Paige

PAIGE

Jake looks like he's ready to commit murder for the interruption, although he's trying to play nice. I don't seem able. I remember him being quiet but nice at my dad's house. You know, on the occasion I had to come out of my room for something.

I sit on the edge of my chair, portfolio propped on my knees. Sensing he will appreciate my getting straight to it, I do. "I have three very specific ideas, and I hope to save time by getting equally specific calculations before I plan. I don't want to think too big if I don't have the budget for it."

He narrows his eyes, like I'm playing with him. "I laid out our budget in the meeting."

"Yes, I know, sir." That has the muscle in his jaw twitching again. Calling him sir seems to set him off. For some reason, it makes me want to say it more. Instead, I push on to avoid pissing off one of my new bosses on day one. "But I don't have vast experience with construction prices, and I'm sure you have people you prefer to work with that I could pull realistic quotes from."

Jakes slow blinks at me. Have I sprouted an extra head or something?

I wait, and he snaps out of it with a sharp nod.

"I can provide you with that. The more you can tell me, the better I can help." He doesn't sound so happy to help, but I won't turn down the offer.

Finally, I offer him a small smile. "That I can do."

He thaws the more we get into the nitty-gritty numbers. But every time I drop a sir on him, he bristles, glares at me, and takes a second to reboot. The further I get down my list of budget details, the more he seems to ease—posture not as rigid, the tick in his jaw only flaring occasionally, his voice less cutting.

I've worked with his personality type before, so I plow on and don't take offense to any of his broodiness.

Some of the numbers I expected are way off. I have more leeway for accent pieces if I keep a certain theme for the floors and use carpeting to create the unique experiences and color schemes I want for the redesigned rooms. The bungalows can all have the same basic structure with small variances in not only the decor but in windows and front-facing architecture. Landscaping is another element I can utilize for variety.

Jake has so many ideas that play off of my own. I genuinely appreciate his help because now I have a list of digital catalogs to comb through to accurately judge what we can accomplish.

"Anything else?" He isn't driving me off, but I've gone through everything on my list and more. With this due in the morning, I have to get my first draft done before I go home. I won't have time to do more than review it after Paxton goes to bed tonight, so priorities.

As I poise to stand, I shake my head, unable to help myself. "No. That's all. Thank you, sir."

His jaw clenches and so do my thighs. I stand to cut some of the tension, but it's thick.

" ." His voice rumbles low, dark, and I imagine him punishing me for the insolence. It's an unfortunate thought that has my nipples pinching.

I mean, couldn't these guys have aged a little worse for wear? Did he have to be more attractive than when I was going through puberty and obsessively thinking about the few men who were nice to me? Not like anyone my age had been all too nice. Or interested.

Now, I'm a mom, a college graduate and a project manager. But I still have a dangerous crush on the three men who modeled what I wanted in one.

God, the way he's looking at me. I try for innocence. "Sir?"

I am not so innocent. Too tightly wound from this morning to curb my sass. I have a habit of poking bears. The moment gives me déjà vu of the night I made myself a single mother.

Jake leans back in his chair, fingers pressing together in front of his nose. He stares like he can see right through me.

It's not in my nature to back down, so we stay like this longer than we should. The twist in my gut tightens before Jake clears his throat. "Happy to be of help, Miss Monroe."

I can't cut off the smile quickly enough, but I nod and take my exit before I make this even more awkward.

Marching back toward my office, Henry's assistant, Sabrina, waves for my attention. Weaving to her desk, I share the smile she offers me.

"I'm placing an order for lunch. Silver Diner. What can I get you?" Sabrina's fingers sit poised on her keyboard, back straight. She matches the image of Rockwell International perfectly and I wish I was as put together as her.

With a three-year-old at home, it's never going to happen. My shoulders slump a little, and her nose wrinkles in delight.

"You've never been? It's so good. I only get it when the guys treat."

That perks me up a little. "Why don't you get me whatever your usual is. I'm betting you have superb taste."

Sabrina's cheeks flush, and a confident smile fills out her entire face. Maybe she and I can be friends. I don't have many.

Well, I have Jackie.

"You won't regret it." Then, she leans in conspiratorially. "And you don't have to be scared of Henry. He's a big teddy bear. A sweet and caring boss."

I'm not sure why her saying so strikes me oddly, but it does. I already know not to be scared of him. What I am is embarrassed and pissed the hell off to be in this situation with him. But I nod and say, "Good to know."

I point toward my office awkwardly as a way of saying I need to go, and Sabrina gives me her cute smile again. "I'm gonna?—"

"I'll bring over lunch when it arrives."

"Thanks." And I speed my way to my office before Henry comes to interrupt. I have so much to do yet. Wired from the last few hours, I sit at my new desk and unlock my computer with the username and password HR gave me.

Diving into work comes easy when I have so much buzzing through my brain. It's easy to dump it all out, group things together and process a quick outline for my ideas. And I'm so lost in my work that I don't hear someone coming into my office as much as I smell it.

I look up from my growing document to see Sabrina carrying in a bag.

"Lunch is here. Sorry to interrupt, but you were deep in thought." She places the bag on the table between the guest chairs opposite me, and she pulls out a carton and utensils.

I take it, and she hovers.

"I want to see what you think."

I crack it open with a little unabashed glee. The top of a pie greets me, and the scent of chicken and butter gravy hits me. My first bite is decadent, and I groan, covering my mouth.

Sabrina's laugh is joyous. "Good. You mind if I?" She points to the seat and her own lunch.

"Yes. Please."

She settles, and we share a lot of moans and mouthfuls before either of us slows enough to talk. If I've learned one thing, it's to ask people about themselves. Sabrina has been Henry's administrative assistant for the last six years while she was attending SUNY Stony Brook online, which is impressive.

I get it. Having two full-time jobs is hard as hell.

She talks a lot about how helpful Henry was and mentions Eli and Jake several times by first name, but for some reason, that doesn't feel natural for her. Not that I have anything to say about it though. Being new to the office and all.

When a half hour is up, I close my carton, which she picks up on in an instant.

"Listen to me, talking nonstop. I'm sure you have work to get back to. And I know you don't have an assistant currently, so if you need any help while you adjust, don't be afraid to let me know."

Sabrina is smart, quick to read situational cues, and she trots out before I have a real chance to thank her again.

Insecurities and jealousy aside, I like Sabrina and hope she comes back for lunch with me again. Maybe tomorrow, I can initiate that.

Diving back into work, I'm on it until the moment 5 p.m. hits. My phone chimes, and I pack things up. Head swimming the entire way home, I take notes on my voice-to-text app. Stepping up to my front door, keys in hand, I snap back to myself. It's a switch I learned to make so that I could maintain some kind of work-home balance.

Jackie opens the door for me. "Hey, girl. Glad you are home. Dinner is about done, and I want to hear all about your first day."

I'm ushered inside with so much warmth and love, and I remember why I want to be so present when I'm here with my two boys.

As soon as the front door closes, my mini-man comes barreling out of the bathroom with his arms up, so I swing him easily into my arms.

"I went potty, Momma!"

I gasp. "All by yourself?"

"Yes."

"What a big boy you are! And did you wash your hands?" I pinch him under his arms lightly.

He grabs my face between his hands. "No."

"Gross, Bub. Big time gross." I walk him over to the sink where we wash his hands, and I wash my face when he's done.

Jackie laughs at me the entire time and plates up dinner. Nothing fancy, just mac and cheese and peanut butter fluff sandwiches. Those are Paxton's favorite two things to eat, and it's obvious Jackie didn't want to fight him with me gone all day.

I fill my bestie in on the day as best I can between Paxton's constant babble, but I keep it G-rated while my son's ears are primed. "I need to go over my perspectives again."

"Mmm. I can help. After the monster goes to b-e-d." Jackie gives Paxton the all-knowing look.

My son simply points at Jackie and says his name.

"Yes, you little monster. I am Jackie, your benevolent overseer, and don't you forget it."

My bestie is so good with my son, although he seems to loathe all other kids. I would never have made it without him. Him and my dad. Both of them are so wonderful. For the next two hours, we play and sing and watch endless cartoons until it's Paxton's bedtime.

He needs a little extra mommy time to fall asleep, so it's nine before I get back to Jackie, who has notes on my work. Again, a godsend of a best friend.

My sleep isn't great, but I wake with a pep in my step, get through my morning routine without hiccup, and am at work with a half hour to spare. Really, it's a stroke of luck.

I give a little wave at Sabrina on my way by, but my steps falter as Henry appears in his office doorway. Apparently, he's an earlier bird too. Great.

". In my office, please." And he disappears inside, leaving me with my heart jackhammering in my chest.

I share a look with his assistant, bite my lip, and march inside.

"Close the door," my new boss says from behind his massive desk.

I do as he says and fold my arms over my chest. After a few seconds, he meets my gaze and lifts a brow. I lift mine in return. The way he summoned me is too abrupt, and I'm waiting for him to rip me a new one.

He straightens as if he can read my resentment. "Want to show me what you have?"

"I don't need you to check my work." I refuse to let my arms drop because they will plant on my hips if I do.

"That's my job. To check your work."

"Not before everyone else sees it. I don't need you to pre-check my work to be sure I'm doing it right."

Henry presses his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "That's not why?—"

"That's exactly why. You don't need to keep me from embarrassing myself. It's not going to happen."

Dropping his hand, his jaw works. My hands finally fall to prop on my hips.

"Just…" He waves for me to hand it over.

I stomp closer and put my briefcase on his desk, doing everything in my power not to shove it at him. Henry holds onto it for a few, long seconds before he tosses it on his desk.

"You and I are going to be working closely together on this project. I will be checking and double-checking—triple-checking—every detail of it. You understand that, right?"

I keep myself from pouting, raise my chin, and nod. Like he can see the petulant child wanting to claw its way out, he sighs and grabs his suit jacket.

"We're going to need a team-building exercise before we put together our actual team. Leave your briefcase." Henry rounds the desk as I fumble with my bag, but he smoothly takes it and slides it onto a chair before taking my elbow and leading me to his door.

Sparks fly up my arm before I can yank it away. Stupid school-girl crush. I'm old enough for it to have disappeared by now. Damn it.

He opens the door for me, and I do my best not to stomp out. "Sabrina. Let me know when our CEO arrives please."

She sits up straight, eyes wide as she takes us both in. I can only imagine what we look like. Both annoyed with each other. "Yes, Mr. Walker."

"Thank you. Come, Miss Monroe."

I narrow my eyes at him but follow, catching the hint of a smile from Sabrina as we leave. I'm not sure why it rankles me, but it does.

Once in the elevator with the doors closing, I fold my arms again. "Where are we going?"

"Downstairs. You're going to let me buy you breakfast."

That wasn't what I expected. "Wait. What?"