Page 11 of Unmoored: How to Fail at Hating the Boss

“It’s true. I won’t do it in good conscience and have a cake looking like a crime scene out there with my name attached to it.”

It’s not like it’s the end of the world if it does, but I can see Evelyn is not going to budge on this.

Reef looks from Evelyn to me and nods. “You want your flag cake, we’ll make your flag cake.”

“How?” I ask. “I don’t bake.”

“It’s not like it’s rocket science,” he says. “Well, go get a box mix from Robin’s and whatever else you need.”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that so I don’t get offended,” Evelyn says.

The slightest smile pulls at Reef’s lips. “And we’ll take two summer berry tarts to go, Evelyn,” he says.

I watch him pay for the tarts before I can approach with my wallet. It’s like he’s ignoring me. Never mind that he didn’t ask what I wanted, but the berry tarts are my favorite at Four and Twenty Bakery.

Reef balances the white pastry box carefully in his hands as we step out into the warm evening air. I hold the door open and follow him around the building into the small alleyway. The party lights strung between the buildings are not yet on as the sun begins to set behind the ridge.

By the time we reach the weathered bench by the mural wall, the bustle of the street seems distant. Reef sets the tarts between us.

We eat our berry tarts in awkward silence at first. At least it’s awkward for me, as I watch the sun set over the western ridge. The sky is flooded with pink and purple hues.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say.

“This is dessert,” he says.

“Speak for yourself,” I say through a mouthful of lemon custard and berries.

Reef shakes his head. “Do you need a proper meal?”

“I’m too used to shoving food in my face and moving on with whatever I need to do next. Besides, it gets me out of having to monitor the school cafeteria if I make sure my schedule is packed full.”

He laughs appreciatively, then says, “What else do you need for this party?”

Am I crazy, or is this man coming around to my way of thinking? That may be too much to hope for.

I tell Reef that I was planning to hit Robin’s Supermarket for party decorations and sparklers after this.

“You weren’t planning on spending your own money on all of that?” Reef’s brow furrows in concern, and it’s so cute I want to touch those deep grooves.

“Yes.” Who else’s money would I be spending?

“I have an expense account for parties and such. I’ve never even touched it. I’m surprised you didn’t ask.”

“Why?”

“Well, you have a way of getting what you want,” he says.

So he noticed.

“I’m also a teacher,’ I explain. “And I’m used to people above me saying no. Spending my own money for work stuff is pretty much the way it goes.”

And now he’s just blinking at me, and I don’t know where to look.

I thank heaven for the buzzing of the horny cicadas in the trees, so loud it chases away extraneous thoughts. Thoughts like who may be seeing me eating tarts with my boss at 7 p.m., or what my hair must look like after being tied up in a sweaty bun all day at work.

I’m definitely not thinking about how I look eating a fruit tart with my hands.

My only thought is that I’m hungry, and that watching Reef eat a blackberry and raspberry tart is the single most filthy thing I’ve ever seen. He makes pornographic, appreciative noises when he eats. Again, I’m clenching my thighs together.