Arrogant Boss

My protests had all been shot down. It wouldn’t be uncomfortable, he promised. He would make sure to take all the necessary precautions against bears. And, as he pointed out, I was a disgrace if I had lived all my life in Northern California and never had visited Yosemite.Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

I had to give it to the man-he was persuasive.

But I also had to admit to not being particularly difficult to persuade. Since our reconciliation, all I wanted to do was spend time with him. Turner was more than OK with me being gone for a weekend, and to my surprise, he announced he was going bowling with some of the coders from Hunt.

Life was good.

During my lunch break, I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea Michael had told me recently about franchising his restaurant. It wasn’t a bad idea, and his food could most definitely be sold in more places around Northern California. Fresh, Italian food… possibly packaged for lunches. He had the ambition and drive to see it through.

Sasha slipped into the seat next to me in the break room and saw my sketches.

“Is that a grapevine? And… pasta?”

I closed my sketchpad. “Yeah, just something I’ve been working on.”

“Is Hunt branching out into the food business?”

I smiled. “Not unless I’ve missed something entirely. Are those machines invented now? The ones where you press a few buttons and get whatever meal you want?”

“I wish,” she said, waving her PB&J sandwich in front of me. “I don’t have time to run out and buy food and this was all I had at home. Josef needs me for a client meeting in ten.”

I pushed over the other half of my baguette. “Have some of mine. I’m full.”

She smiled gratefully at me and nodded back down at my sketchpad. “So, what’s that for? Or is it a secret?”

“No. It’s something I’m working on for a friend. Early stages so far.”

“Cool, cool,” Sasha nodded and tapped her fingers against the table. “Look, I feel like I should apologize for the whole Burn situation at drinks last week. I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know neither you or Rachel meant any harm. I should just have said right away that I’m dating someone, but it was early days and I didn’t want to talk about it yet.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow, really? That’s great! We would totally have understood.”

“I’m sure you would have.” I shook my head. “It was more my own hang-up.”

“Who is he?”

I took a sip from my bottle of ice tea. “I think I’ll keep him to myself for a little while longer.”

Sasha smiled. “So secretive.”

“That’s me,” I said, winking as I stood. “But I’ll tell you as soon as it’s official.”

“Alright, alright. I’m intrigued. See you later?”

“On Monday, actually. I’m heading out of the office a bit earlier today.”

“Oh?””Family thing.” I shrugged. “Have a nice weekend!”

“Yeah, you too!”

I grabbed my notepad and headed back into my office, where my overnight bag was standing prepped and ready against my desk. Its bright colors and striped strings beckoned. Why was athletic gear always so garish? Did neon scare off bears? Was nylon mesh more ergonomic? Some questions just had no answers.

Several hours later, I opened the passenger door to Julian’s Jeep and jumped inside. He grinned as he glanced down at my outfit-dark blue jeans, combat boots, and a fleece jacket.

“Very rural,” he commented.

“Don’t worry,” I said primly. “I packed a down jacket as well. And yes, I know I’m the poster child of sexiness right now. Victoria Secret could basically use me as an ad.”

Julian laughed and reached over to rest his hand on my thigh as he backed out of the parking lot. He did the whole thing single-handedly, long fingers gripping around the steering wheel. Even such a small thing made my skin tingle.

“You are incredibly sexy in this getup. Did you bring a flannel and an ax as well?”

“Have a thing for lumberjacks, do you?”

“I think I might.” He squeezed my leg. “Or perhaps it’s just lumber-Emilys.”

I groaned. “You’re not a dad, but you’ve already nailed the lame jokes.”

He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the intersection ahead, and a terrible notion crossed my mind. “You’re not, are you? Is this the part where you confess that you’ve fathered five sweet but illegitimate children?”

Julian laughed. In his button-down and rugged blue jeans, he looked every bit the relaxed mountain man from my innermost fantasies. Damn.

“No, I don’t have any kids. Promise.”

“Phew,” I said, and pretended to relax against the seat. He laughed again at my dramatics and I smiled at the sound. I had no idea why this beautiful man was with me, but I’d do anything to keep him. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

He glanced over. “If you have any secret kids? I’m fairly certain on that front.”

“Maybe, or maybe I’m leading a secret double life. You can never be too sure.”

Julian’s hand tightened again on my leg, and while his eyes stayed on the road, I heard the warmth in his voice when he replied. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

As the city around us gave way to open landscapes, our conversation grew into a companionable silence. Julian kept his hand somewhere near or on me for nearly the entire three-and-a-half-hour trip to Yosemite.

Being with him was a new experience entirely for me. There was nothing in him that I could relate to my ex-boyfriend, or to any of the occasional dates I’d been on. There hadn’t been anyone who made me laugh or cry like him, or made my heart swell the way it did. And there had definitely never been anyone who touched me like him.

I peeked over at him several times, wondering if dating someone seriously was a common occurrence for him.

“You’re thinking,” he said. “I can hear the neurons firing from over here.”

“Well, you’re not very far away.”

He smiled. “That’s true. Why don’t you share?”

I’d slipped off my shoes and crossed my legs, looking at the red, dusty landscape around us. We might as well be on Mars-left to fend to ourselves like the astronaut in that space movie. California was dry this time of year.

There was absolutely no way to ask what I wanted to ask tactfully, so I tried to turn it into a joke. “Have you really been with, like, a thousand models?”