Page 36 of Maid for My Billionaire Boss
“Yeah, we broke up.” Answering this question felt annoying to me. It was a waste of my time to even talk about Tonya.
“I don’t blame her because she was too good for you anyway.”
“Thanks. I know who to call when I need a confidence boost.”
“No prob.”
“So, is that why you don’t want me to meet your maid?”
“I don’t . . . w-what?” Stuttering like a school kid who had been called out for sleeping in class, I wondered if he could tell I had feelings for Atalie. Not that there was anything wrong with them, but she didn’t know about them. I sure didn’t want her to find out through stupid Evan. I played cool. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I mean, if you want it to make sense . . . It could. It could be a really cute Hallmark movie.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I ended my call, feeling like I had almost been caught doing something illegal and I was about to put my phone down, but a new text message flashed on my screen.
Tonya:I’m in town, getting the last of the things from my apartment. I found some sentimental things of yours you might want back—like your high school chess club T-shirt and your autographed Yoda baby doll.
Me:It’s not a doll. It’s a collector’s item so get that straight.
Tonya:Right. Well anyway, would you like to meet for lunch, and I can give you these things?
Me:Sure. Does noon work? I can meet you at the Thai restaurant around the corner from your place.
Tonya:Sure. See you.
Me:Confirmed.
Setting my phone down on my desk, I thought about how odd it was that I hadn't missed Tonya. Sure, some songs had come on the radio and tossed a memory of her back in my mind, but I wasn’t pining for her. I did have a box of her stuff I had cleaned out, and thought we might as well get together to do the tradeoff.
One of the perks about working from home was I worked in a T-shirt and jeans on most days, but today I was still in my sweatpants. I didn’t want her to think I had gone over the deep end and stopped showering since we’d broken up, so I headed upstairs to clean up. After a quick shower, shave, and clothes that didn't look slept in, I stood in the mirror, wrestling with some stubborn hair gel when I felt someone looking at me.
Atalie was in the doorway, holding a stack of fresh towels. It was the first time I had seen her since I’d surprised her. Even though I had thought about her every other second of every day, I tried to play it cool. She held her hand up in a soft nonmoving wave.
I mimicked her wave while still holding the bottle. Instead of looking smooth, I came out looking like I was auditioning for a commercial to sell hair gel. I fumbled for a second, setting the gel on the counter. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”
“We were quiet, and I saw your office was empty, so I cleaned it.” She held up the towels. “And I got a load of towels washed already.”
“Thanks.” I took them from her and turned to put them in the linen closet. “How was your time off?”
“I can proudly say we hit up almost every drive-through within a twenty-mile radius. And . . .” She paused, her lashes lowered, hooding her eyes before continuing in a soft voice, “I thought about how I acted at the school, and I felt bad. I was confused but I wanted you to know I do appreciate the offer of sending Josiah to school.” She raised her eyes back to mine. “I can’t ever repay you but thank you. If the offer still stands, he would love to go to school there.”
Suddenly my palms felt tacky, even though I had just gotten out of the shower. “Of course, the offer stands and no need to repay, and you’re welcome,” I tried to echo her soft tone, but I started to get the vibe that the expression she had for me heldmorethan a thank you.
Or maybe I was just hoping it was.
Because that would be neat.
Her eyes drifted to the top of my head. “Are you gelling your hair?”
“Ah, yeah, I don’t normally, but I’ve been too busy to get a haircut. I had a weird spikey thing going on in the front. I thought it might help tame it.” Her body being so close to me had this disabling power and I was unable to think of anything normal to say. Not wanting her to leave, I struggled to converse more, and felt stupid words tumble out, “What do you think about hair gel?”
Her forehead puckered, but her eyes stayed on the bottle. “Are you asking for my opinion on your hair?”
“Yeah,” I deadpanned, unsure where I was going with the conversation, but if it kept Atalie near me, I was going to try it out.
