Undercover Boss

by Hazel Kelly

  “No. You’re right about that, unfortunately.”

  He wiped his napkin down him mouth. “How’s the rest of the staff taking it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Having to go from being buddies to being bossed can be tough.”

  “So far so good, actually.”

  He nodded as he listened.

  “It doesn’t hurt that Mary was such a pain, but everyone’s been really supportive.”

  “Good,” he said, pointing at me. “Make sure you don’t take that for granted.”

  I straightened my back against the chair, taking a moment to gauge how full I was.

  “You can’t succeed if your team isn’t behind you,” he said.

  “Silliest mistake a person can make is failing to recognize when they’ve got good people around them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “That was your mother’s downfall, you know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not seeing what was right in front of her.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean us,” he said. “Me.”

  “She was an addict, Dad.”

  “Shame she wasn’t addicted to love.” He looked out the kitchen window. “She never would’ve left me then.”

  I didn’t want to get into it. The older he got, the softer in the head. How could he use that tone of voice? Like he missed her? Had he forgotten how she used to scream and throw things? How she used to leave us to fend for ourselves at dinnertime because she refused to get out of the bathtub night after night after night?

  “She had bigger and better things planned.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what she said when she left,” he said. “That we were holding her back from realizing her dreams.”

  I scoffed.

  He shrugged. “Maybe she was right.”

  “She wasn’t right.”

  “I thought we were her dreams.” He ate in silence for a while after that, while I just sat there, wishing he hadn’t brought her up.

  “She did love you,” he said eventually. “In her own way.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t one of those dads that took a lot of home movies. Then you’d be able to see for yourself how she used to be with you. How she used to sing to you.”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Dad. If she loved us, she wouldn’t have left. Period.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. It frustrated me to no end when he glorified her like this. Didn’t he know how much it hurt me? Couldn’t he see that he was living in a past that never was?

  Then again, part of me envied him because I couldn’t even imagine how different my life might be if I had more happy memories of her to revisit.

  Besides, maybe it was sweet that their ancient romance still lived on in his mind, that he believed he’d lived to meet the love of his life. I mean, at the very least, my dad was the poster boy for the expression, “It’s better to have loved and lost.”

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d lost Alex…and if I’d ever deserved him in the first place.

  T W E N T Y N I N E

  - Alex -

  “When is tango week?” my mom asked, flipping a glossy pamphlet over in her hand.

  I took the lid off my Starbucks and leaned back in my usual kitchen chair.

  “Shouldn’t it be coming up?”

  I shrugged. “Does it matter? Unless you have a special outfit for tango week…?”

  “For your information, I was going to ask Eddie to accompany me on tango week.”

  My face fell. “Who the hell is Eddie?”

  “The man who just moved in down the street. I told you about him.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Sure I did,” she said, using a napkin to wipe some condensation off her Frappuccino. “The widower. With the nice truck.”

  “I’m sure I would remember something like that.”

  “Whatever.” She waved the air between us. “You haven’t heard anything I’ve said for the last week and a half.”

  “Sorry, did you say something?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

  I took a sip of coffee.

  “I mean it. You’ve been too much in your own head.”

  “Says the woman who’s stalking the singleton down the street.”

  “He has a good chin,” she said. “Figured the least I could do was welcome him to the neighborhood.”

  “I suppose if your heart handled the foxtrot last week, you’re healthy enough for a flirt.”

  “Excuse me for trying to spare you the awkwardness of dancing cheek to cheek with me in front of a room full of smiling dentures.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh please.”

  “What?” She put a hand on her hip, causing her bangles to tumble towards her thin wrist.

  “You’ve never given a rat’s about embarrassing me before. Just admit that you’re demoting me to your second-string dance partner. I can handle the truth.”

  Her thin brows lifted. “You want the truth?”

  I nodded.

  “I want you to invite Gemma to the next class.”

  I choked on my coffee, scorching the inside of my nose.

  Mom handed me a napkin.

  I held it over my face while my eyes watered.

  “It’ll be a double date.”

  I composed myself and met her gaze. “Absolutely not.”

  “Did something happen with you two?” she asked. “You haven’t mentioned her in ages.”

  “Because you don’t need a play by play of my personal relationships.”

  Her lips puckered into a judgmental pout. “Jimmy already warned me of that much.”

  I clenched my jaw. He was fucking always doing this! Ever since we were in junior high he’d been telling my mom stuff just to get me in hot water.

  Then again, it’s not like I told him Gemma and I weren’t really speaking. Well, speaking yes, but ever since she asked me to give her space, I’d been a sulky-ass drama queen, and I knew it. But what else could I do? It was impossible to be near her and not ache for her. Even the way she smelled had become a dreaded torture.

  And I didn’t want her to see me hurting. For better or for worse, I preferred if she thought I was angry.

  “What happened?” my mom asked.

  “Nothing. Stay out of it.”

  Her eyes softened.

  I groaned. “Please don’t make that face.”

  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “All touchy about a woman.”

  I took another sip of my coffee.

  “Do you want some of my cake pop?” she asked, reaching for the paper bag between us.

  “No.”

  “So you’ll ask her, then?” She turned her gaze to the ball of iced dough and spun the stick between her fingertips.

  “It’s not a good time.”

  “Please,” she said. “It will take some of the pressure off me and Eddie.”

  Somehow, my face dropped even further.

  “Plus, I want to go on a double date before I die,” she said. “It’s on my bucket list.”

  “It is not.”

  She laid a hand across her chest. “Are you really going to argue with an old woman about what’s on her bucket list?”

  “Come on, Mom. You’re better than this.”

  “Can’t you at least ask her?”

  I raised a hand and rubbed my eyes.

  “Or give me one good reason why you can’t?”

  I dropped my hand. “On one condition.”

  She took a bite of her cake pop and leaned forward.

  “You have to tell me the truth.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “About what?”

  “About your real motiv
ation for doing this?”

  She sighed.

  “I’m doing it for your karma.”

  I leaned back. “What?!”

  “You get lots of points for entertaining old people.”

  “What points?! I don’t need any points?”

  Her head fell to the side. “You’ll need points if you sell the business.”

  “Jesus, is there any button you won’t push?”

  “Just ask her,” she said, wrapping the bare stick from her cake pop in a napkin. “Do it for a dying woman.”

  I shook my head. “This is an Oscar-worthy performance. It’s a real shame you were never discovered.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe Gemma can help me get a YouTube channel up and running.”

  I forced a smile, but inside my heart was sinking. After all, I doubted I was very high on the list of people she was in a hurry to do favors for right now.

  And, suddenly, a wave of regret hit me like a truck. What was I doing? How did I get to this place where all the things I wanted seemed further away than ever?

  And more importantly, what the hell was I going to do about it?

  T H I R T Y

  - Gemma -

  I’d never felt so crazy, and that was saying a lot.

  After all, there had been times in my life where I thought food was my best friend, times I thought I was in love with an abusive man, and times I wished I had any face but my own.

  But this was a whole new kind of crazy.

  Overnight, I’d 10x-ed my level of responsibility and pushed away the one person who made me feel like I could handle it, the one person who made me feel like I was the woman for the job.

  As a result, it sort of felt like I was faking it without him.

  But that was ridiculous.

  He’d only been in my life a few short weeks.

  So what if he was the first person who ever saw me how I wanted to be? So what if his faith in me had helped me rise to the occasion?

  I groaned and leaned back in my desk chair. It wasn’t like me to shoot myself in the foot like this.

  Or was it?

  Shit. What if self-sabotage was my thing? What if it had always been me that was responsible for destroying my own chance at happiness?

  It was so much easier to blame my bad luck on Colonel Sanders. Or Ray. Or my mom.

  “Come in,” I said, straightening out of my slouch when I heard a knock.

  When Alex’s head popped around the door, I stood up. Why did I do that? Ugh! So pathetic.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I pretended to adjust the paperweight at the far corner of my desk and then sat down again. “What do you want?” Nooooo?! “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way.” Say me. Say you still want me.

  “That’s okay,” he said, closing the door without taking his eyes off me. “I deserved that.”

  I swallowed and gestured at the seat in front of my desk. “What I meant was, is there anything I can do to help you do your job better?”

  He leaned back in the chair, his broad chest muscles shifting under his uniform. “You been watching Ted Talks?”

  I blinked at him.

  “That’s straight out of Simon Sinek’s, isn’t it?”

  My cheeks burst into flames.

  “You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he said. “Everyone thinks you’re a great boss. Makes sense that you’re working at it.”

  I squinted at him. “Why do you know that?”

  “Because the staff talks, you know th—”

  “No,” I said. “The Ted Talk. I didn’t know you bought into all that entrepreneurial motivational stuff.”

  “Eighteen million people have watched that video.”

  And that? Why did he know that? And why was I so surprised? It’s not like I knew him that well. Hell, maybe I didn’t know him at all. I certainly never could’ve predicted how easy it would be for him to blank me for the last ten days, anyway.

  “There is something you can do, actually.”

  I grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip. “What’s that?”

  “You can push your beginner class harder, for one thing,” he said. “Thirty percent of new members enroll if you mention it more than twice while they’re signing up.”

  “Where did you get those numbers?”

  He shrugged. “I asked Shannon and André to try it the last two days.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He cocked his head.

  “Oh right,” I said, smacking my forehead. “Because you’ve been busy blanking me like a child.”

  His face grew stern. “I’ve been blanking you like you asked me to.”

  I stared at him, so pissed I could almost see past how handsome he was.

  “Congratulations, anyway, on the beginner class,” he said. “It’s obviously going to be a big success.”

  “I didn’t ask you to blank me,” I blurted. “I didn’t ask you to give me curt answers every time I spoke to you and for you to not even look at me during the day.”

  “You think I have to look at you to see you?” His eyes held mine. “I see you everywhere. You’re all I fucking see.”

  I swallowed.

  “But I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy, Gemma. So I’m sorry if it’s awkward for you, but I can’t be your friend. Not after…” He stopped himself and stood up.

  “What did you want?” I asked, standing again.

  He looked at me, and once again, I hoped he would say me, that he wanted me. But the desk between us was a reminder that we were dancing on the edge of a line, a line that was feeling more insurmountable with every passing minute.

  “Never mind.” He moved for the door. “It’s not important.”

  “Alex, please.” I miss you, I thought, hoping he would read my mind.

  He looked over his shoulder. “You can say no.”

  I went to cross my arms, but sort of hugged myself instead. God, how I wished my arms were his. “I’m listening.”

  “My mom wants me to ask you to accompany me on a double date with her and the widower that just moved in down the street.”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “You said your mom wants me to come along,” I said, glancing down to find my nerve. “But do you?”

  He sighed. “Yes and no.”

  I curled my toes in my shoes.

  “Yes, because ever since you got promoted, you’ve been like Rapunzel, all locked up far away and refusing to let your hair down.”

  I suppressed a smile. If I was Rapunzel, who did that make him?

  “On the other hand, bringing you to a geriatric dance class isn’t at the top of the list of ways I’d like to impress you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But it would mean a lot to my mom so—”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “I didn’t even tell you when it is yet.”

  Shit.

  “It’s Saturday,” he said, perhaps sensing my embarrassment. “So if you don’t have plans…”

  “I would be honored to meet your mom.”

  His expression lifted slightly. “Thanks, Gemma. I owe you one.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I said, cartwheeling on the inside.

  His eyes smiled. “Bring your dancing shoes.”

  T H I R T Y O N E

  - Alex -

  While I wasn’t exactly looking forward to watching my mom flirt with some shrinking bald guy, I was glad I came as soon as I saw Gemma practice the first step of the rumba. She was a natural, and the swing of her hips in the form-fitting purple dress she was wearing put me in the best mood I’d been in for weeks.

  “All the way to the wrist,” the militant instructor said, clapping in my face. “Even the wrist plays a sensual role in the rumba.”

  “Very seductive,” Gemma said, laughing as I looked dramatically past the ends of my fingertips.

&n
bsp; I rolled my eyes. I felt about as seductive as a dancing lobster.

  “One more time from the top!” the instructor called, counting us down in her thick Eastern European accent.

  Gemma struck a pose across from me, and my eyes fell down her curves.

  “Tighter,” the teacher instructed, smacking my ass as she walked by.

  Gemma bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “I’m glad someone’s having a good time,” I said through gritted teeth.

  When the familiar music began to play, we danced away from each other dramatically. My lips moved as I counted, but I forgot what number I was on when I got to the part where I had to put a hand on Gemma’s lower back and follow her forward, the scent of her swinging hair intoxicating me.

  Gemma spun around and grabbed my hand, preparing for her next spin perfectly.

  I tripped over my feet but managed to hit my mark, supporting her while she spun in place, my fingertips tracing her waist.

  We went through the sequence three more times, and my heart was racing by the end of the short routine when she threw her hands in the air and cast her head to the side. I slid my hands down her ribcage as the music faded, my breath hot against her neck as I savored the moment.

  She turned around to face me when the instructor called for a water break.

  My eyes searched hers, and I worried I’d crossed the line by forgetting the room around us and enjoying myself so much. I hoped I hadn’t made her uncomfortable, but again, it would be a lie to apologize.

  “That was…better,” Gemma said, holding my gaze.

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing off my nerves. “For a second there it felt like I was doing more dancing than counting.”

  Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks when her eyes fell down my shirt buttons.

  “I’m sorry I blanked you.”

  She flicked her eyes back up at me.

  “I only did it to create the illusion that I could be professional around you.”

  She looked around at the other panting class members, all of whom were making their way to their bags around the room’s perimeter so they could “hydrate, hydrate, hydrate” as commanded. “Can I be honest with you?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I kind of miss the unprofessional you.”

  “The unprofessional me or the unprofessional us?”