Boss Me

by Claire Adams

  Todd was still living his life just as carefree as he could, and I was chained to a company I didn’t know shit about.

  I walked through the doors of my house and went straight to my refrigerator. I stood in front of my mother’s letter, scanning it with my eyes again as I reminded myself why I was doing this. Everything in my body wanted to hand this company over to Stella. I had no passion for running it, I had no passion for improving it, and I had no desire to be chained to it.

  But, every single time my eyes read that one sentence, it would remind me of why I was doing this.

  “Please forgive me, my sweet baby boy. I never meant to stunt you in any way.”

  “You didn’t stunt me, Momma,” I said as I ran my fingers over the letter.

  I wasn’t there for my mother when she was alive. I didn’t work hard enough to prove to her that her parenting tactics worked. I was ungrateful about everything she gave me, and I was lazy because I knew she would continue to give it to me, no matter what. Instead of growing into a man who took care of his mother, I grew into a man who took advantage of her.

  I couldn't be there for her when she was alive, but I sure as hell could do it now that she was dead.

  “I will do this for you,” I said aloud. “And you’ll be proud of me. I promise.”

  And as I backed away from the letter, sitting my ass on my kitchen counter, I felt tears rise to my eyes as I thought about the emotional state she must’ve been in when she wrote this letter.

  “I’m so sorry, Momma,” I whispered. “Please forgive me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Stella

  Bagel in hand, I walked through the doors of the offices only to be met by Christian. I looked down at my watch, realizing it wasn’t quite 8 yet, and I honestly had to say I was impressed. To my knowledge, Christian had never taken a job that required him to be anywhere before noon, but he was still wearing that goofy-looking suit.

  And he was holding two cups of coffee.

  “Care for some caffeine?” he asked.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “So, I’d like to start off today with a little meeting between the two of us,” he said.

  “Alright. What’s up?” I asked.

  “Come on into my office.”

  I watched him turn around and wondered where in the world this was going. Christian wasn’t one to take the initiative, so the mere fact that he was commanding me to do something was well beyond him. I followed him into the office he had outfitted for himself, and he beckoned for me to sit on the couch in the corner with him.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I know you’re not happy about me handling the company, but I want you to understand that I’m taking this very seriously,” he said.

  “Alright.”

  “There’s a meeting we have on Friday with a potential client,” he said.

  “Oh, really? And who is this client?” I asked.

  “It’s a doctor that has moved into town and is opening her own practice. I think it would be good if you came with me. I think she might feel better discussing things with a woman, and you are still more knowledgeable about the products around here than I am,” he said.

  “I take it they’ll be needing the basics? Regular orders of gauze, needles, that sort of thing?” I asked.

  “Yep. She admires the reputation Harte To Heart has in the community and rallies around the charities your father donated to. I told her we could meet with her Friday to solidify things as well as answer any questions she might have. I would also like to prepare her a ‘welcome to the family’ sort of box with things she’ll need right from the get-go.”

  “Like gauze, trial medications, canes to display in her office, things like that,” I said.

  “Yeah. I thought that might be another good incentive the company could start doing. You know, to attract more regular clients. Oh, and I wanted to know what you thought about warehouse-to-doctor shipping. It would enable us to take on more clients without having to house all the inventory. Plus, we could start offering more of the bigger items, which would bring us more profit faster,” he said.

  It was like I was looking at an entirely different person. Christian was no longer the idiotic, bobble-headed boy I’d always seen growing up. He had somehow become knowledgeable enough about running a business to know about these kinds of things, which told me he must have worked on this over the weekend.

  Suddenly, his baby blue eyes were looking out from the face of a man instead of a child.

  “If you could reach out to the warehouse contacts and get them on board, we could even start offering a few purchases online. As a test run. We’d have to hire a web developer to set up the store for us, and possibly revamp the website, but the upfront cost would be worth it in the long run. I had a few of the employees shoot me suggestions to my email over the weekend.”

  “Wait, you reached out to the employees?” I asked.

  “Yep. I sent them all a follow-up email detailing the points of that first meeting, just in case they didn’t make it. At the end, I told them to hit me up with any suggestions they might have for the company,” he said.

  “You didn’t say ‘hit me up’ in the email, did you?” I asked, grinning.

  “No,” he said, chuckling. “But, that was the biggest suggestion: an online store for those who find it difficult to get into our physical location.”

  “Those are actually good ideas.”

  I couldn’t believe I had said that. I couldn’t believe I was agreeing with my airheaded stepbrother on everything that just flew out of his mouth. Who the hell was this and what did they do with the Christian I knew?

  This was the type of thinking and planning that could help this company thrive. He was displaying the kind of work ethic and dedication the company needed to keep progressing into the future.

  I noticed Christian’s strong jawline and broad shoulders. Those strong features would serve him well in meetings like this. It would give people the idea that he knew what he was talking about. The slope of his nose and how it stopped just above a perfect set of lips would keep them entranced with what he had to say, and if he could turn on the intelligence like he was right now, he’d be unstoppable.

  “We would need to get you another suit,” I said. “You look ridiculous right now.”

  “Yeah. It’s the only one I own. I figured I’d have to go shopping sometime this week before the meeting,” he said.

  “Do you know how a suit is supposed to fit?” I asked.

  “I’m a man, Stella. Of course I know how a suit is supposed to fit,” he said.

  “Alright. Then where is the leg cuff of a suit supposed to hit a man on his legs?” I asked.

  “At his ankle?” he asked.

  “It’s supposed to grace the tongue of his shoe without breaking down to his heel,” I said.

  “Who the fuck made that rule?” he asked.

  “A gentleman who knew what a good suit looked like on a man. I’ll take you shopping Wednesday.”

  “You’re going shopping with me,” he said.

  “Yes. Wednesday afternoon. We’ll get to work early in the morning, then take a long lunch. You’ll only need one for now, and once you see how the process works, you can take it from there.”

  “Alright. But, I’m not wearing any funky colored suits. No reds, no oranges, and no whites.”

  “What the fuck kind of suits have you seen all your life?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” he said, chuckling.

  I sat there staring into his eyes while I lost myself in the conversation we just had. My grip tightened around my coffee before I brought it to my lips, and I couldn’t help but watch him as he took a sip of his.

  “Holy shit, this coffee is phenomenal,” I said.

  “It’s Todd’s latest creation,” he said. “Elderberry and some other shit.”

  “Elderberry and some other shit. Sounds tasty,” I said, winking.

  “He s
hould open his own place. He’s excellent at what he does.”

  “And it seems he wouldn’t be the only person who qualified that statement,” I said.

  I watched his eyes light up before a small grin tugged at the sides of his lips. Where the hell did that statement just come from?

  “Well, I’ve got some phone calls to make and some numbers to run for projects and such. I’ll get back to you when I have those numbers,” I said as I hopped up off his couch.

  “And don’t forget to ask them about the warehouse-to-doctor shipping,” he said.

  “I won’t!”

  I practically ran to my office before I shut the door behind me. What the hell was happening? My goofy stepbrother wasn’t a dimwitted little boy, but a mature businessman whom I had just told was doing a good job of running the company. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I tried to settle my racing pulse, but the only thing I could see were those beautiful blue eyes.

  My eyes flew open before I tossed my coffee cup into the trash. I grabbed my purse and slung it onto the coffee table before I dug for my phone so I could make phone calls.

  There was no way I could regard my stepbrother as anything but goofy and boyish. He could not be a man. Nowhere near it.

  He could not be the attractive man my mind apparently thought he was. That was ridiculous. He was my stepbrother, and that was a boundary I was not about to breach.

  I dialed the number of the first warehouse I needed to call and started asking them questions about the products they were producing. My father had developed a new type of adhesive doctors could use for suturing people who were allergic to the sterilization process used on suture string. But, this kind of glue could also be used deep within the body for things like open heart surgeries and cesarean sections. It had a powerful suction and adhesive component that wasn’t available on the market yet, and hospitals everywhere were clamoring for something like it.

  Then, I had to call the warehouse that shipped us all the small things we kept in our store. They supplied us with our gauzes, tapes, small joint braces, canes, and bandages. I spoke with them about reordering a few items that were picking up in demand as well as get some quotes on what they would charge us for diabetic supplies. The warehouse currently helping us obtain those items was going out of business, and I needed to find a very quick replacement without dropping the quality of the products we kept in our store.

  Then, I had to call the two warehouses that supplied us with the bulk of our other products. They would be the businesses Christian would probably want to use for this warehouse-to-doctor idea, and I needed to get a sense of how that operated, what we would need to do, what it would cost us, and what all they would be willing to ship. They were American-based warehouses, so they were a bit more expensive, but they were the two most reliable warehouses we worked with.

  That, and it resonated with our customers that we used American-made products.

  By the time I had all the information I needed, it was almost lunchtime. I sighed, sinking into the couch, and closed my eyes just for a second. I needed to get this information typed up and over to Christian’s office before the end of the day today, but that’s not where my focus currently was.

  Even though I had spent almost four hours on the phone with different warehouses, I still couldn’t get my mind off of what it might feel like to run my hands through Christian’s hair.

  And I groaned before I stood to my feet and strode out of my office.

  I needed to take a fucking walk.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Christian

  “I didn’t even know this place existed,” I said.

  “Yeah, well. You probably get all your clothes at the thrift store anyway,” Stella said.

  “Ouch. That hurts. Sorry if I like my T-shirts and jeans,” I said.

  “Well, it’s time to move into the world of professionalism. You want to run a company? You need to look the part,” she said.

  I opened the door for her, and we walked into an upscale store in the middle of downtown San Diego. It was lined wall-to-wall with suits in all different colors and styles, and I was suddenly very glad she was here with me. I had no idea there were so many differently-shaped suit coats and collars, and I found myself lost in an unfamiliar world.

  However, Stella was walking down the lines of clothing and feeling the fabrics as if she knew exactly what she was looking at.

  “Can I help you?” a well-dressed man with a name badge came up and asked her.

  “Yes, my stepbrother over there needs a perfectly tailored suit for a meeting Friday. Is that possible here?” she asked.

  “We could have it tailored and ready by tomorrow. Any particular style?” he asked.

  “One that screams business owner,” she said.

  “My suit’s going to be screaming at me?” I asked.

  “If you rock it right, the ladies will be screaming at you, too,” she said, winking.

  “She’s right. A tailored suit on a gentleman is like well-made lingerie on a woman,” the stylist said.

  “I’m down for anything that’ll make me more appealing to women,” I said.

  “I’m sure you don’t struggle in that department, Christian,” she said.

  I looked over at my stepsister, who was fondling a pitch-black suit jacket, and I studied her intently. I looked for anything that could’ve signaled the fact that she was making a joke at my expense or throwing out some sort of covert insult, but all I saw was the softness of her features. Her fingers, light and nimble, wandered over the buttons of the jacket, and I watched as she plucked it from the rack and held it up for me to see.

  “What do you think about this color black?” she asked.

  “There’s more than one color black?” I asked.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” the stylist said. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Stella handed the suit coat to the man before he led me back to the changing rooms, but all I wanted to do was crane my neck back and keep looking at Stella. In all my life, I’d never seen her this relaxed. She seemed happy. Content. In her element in a way I never would have suspected.

  “First, I’ll get your measurements, then you’ll try this coat on. We’ll fool with the fit later. Right now, I want to learn what colors look best on you,” the stylist said.

  I held my arms out while he took measurements, and I looked at myself in the mirror while he jotted things down. He took my measurements three separate times, having me stand in three different positions, and by the time he was done be looked satisfied.

  “I’m going to go see what your lovely friend has picked out for you, and we’ll nail down some colors that will go wonderfully with that dirty blond hair of yours.”

  “Here, I’ll come with you,” I said. “She’ll pick out ridiculous stuff for me if I don’t monitor her.”

  “Oh, we’re just going for color. Not style right now,” the stylist said.

  But I was already pushing past him to get back to Stella. By the time I rounded the corner, Stella was coming around as well, and we ran into one another. It caused the coats she had picked out to fall to the floor, but the sound that fell from her lips was not the one I expected.

  The Stella I knew would’ve gotten angry. She would’ve scolded me or told me to watch where I was going. The Stella I grew up with would’ve chided me for not being more careful or watchful of others.

  But this Stella laughed. She bent down and picked up the suit coats with a sparkle of happiness in her eye, and that’s when I realized how light green her eyes were. Usually, people with green eyes had those stormy, raging green eyes that held mystery and caution. But, Stella’s green eyes were light and playful, sparkling with her smile while I helped her pick up the coats.

  “I’m so sorry, Stella,” I said.

  “Oh, it’s not a problem. You know, you’ve never watched where you’re going. I should’ve been keeping an eye out for you,” she said.

  Our fingers tou
ched picking up the last coat, and I felt a shock of electricity jump up my arm. I was painfully aware of how glistening black Stella’s hair was and how soft and supple the tips of her fingers had felt against my hand. I ripped mine back, allowing her to pick the last suit up off the ground before we headed back to the dressing room, but all I could do was take steady breaths in an attempt to calm my racing mind.

  What the fuck was going on?

  “Let’s try these colors on first to get an idea,” Stella said as she handed the coats to the stylist. “If there’s a style that looks especially dapper on him, clock it. Otherwise, just stick to what looks good with the undertones of his skin.”

  “Undertones of my skin?” I asked. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “It means you’re going to look hot in whatever suit you walk out of here with,” Stella said.

  I caught her gaze as a grin slowly brushed her cheeks. She tapped the door before she shut it, closing me in with the stylist, and he held up a dark red coat to my body while we analyzed what looked the best.

  “Not good on your skin,” the stylist said. “How do you feel about dark blue or black?”

  “No blues. I’m always in blue because of my eyes,” I said. “But, let’s try the black.”

  He held it up to my body, and both of us took a second to process it. I didn’t know what he was looking at, but all I was looking at was the glistening black buttons of the coat. They were smooth and shining, just like the fabric of the suit itself, and it reminded me of Stella’s hair.

  Why the hell did it matter if it reminded me of Stella’s hair?

  “I kind of like this one,” the stylist said. “What do you think?”

  “I like it. Are there pants in this same color and fabric? Maybe with a light green tie or something?”