Page 2 of Property of my Boss

“Yeah,” she sighs, “but that’s a thing of the past. I can’t do nursing anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

She clicks a button at the top of the coffee maker before sitting in the chair at the front of my desk, folding her long legs over each other before leaning forward just slightly. “I love helping people, but it’s also so much pressure. Getting everyone’s pills to them on time, having to work over because someone was too drunk to come in, always saying the right thing to everyone, it’s… overwhelming. I find I’m much happier when I’m doing something a little more low-key.”

“Well, this is definitely low-key.” My eyes are on her fucking tits again. Jesus Christ, man! Stop looking! She’s nearly two decades younger than you.

“What kinds of things would I be doing?”

“Well, you’d be answering our phones, getting campers checked in, taking payments for what folks buy from the camp store, and relaying any messages to Atlas and I. The hours will vary and it includes weekends.”

“That’s fine. I’m used to that with nursing anyway.”

There was a list of fucking questions I had in my head, though right now all I’m thinking about is the shade of fucking blue in her eyes. How the hell are they so damn bright?

“Have you ever done any front desk work?”

She tilts her head to the side and sighs. “Well, yes. When I was a teenager, I did some work at the library in town, but other than that, no. I know it’s weird that I want this job given my nursing background and all that, but I really love the outdoors, and when I saw this listing, I thought it would be the perfect place to spend my days. It’s beautiful and you’re probably surrounded by happy people on vacation.” She runs her fingers in slow circles over her wrist as she talks. “Do you have a lot of people interviewing for this job?”

Is this the part where I’m supposed to lie? Tell her there’s a line of incoming applicants? Make her grovel?

Lord fucking knows I’d like to see this woman on her knees groveling. Jesus, when did I fucking get like this?

“I’ve seen a few applicants already,” I lie, “but I have a good feeling about you. Are you available to start tomorrow?”

Her face brightens, and the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen lights up the room as the coffee maker drips behind us. “Yes! I can totally start tomorrow! Thank you!” She stands and shuffles towards me, heels clicking, arms outstretched as though she’s going to hug me.

Hug me? Why the hell would she hug me? I’m still questioning it when my body stands and leans into hers like instinct has won over thought.

She tips up onto her toes, her arms wrap around my neck, her breasts press into my chest, and she jumps up and down with the sweetest little squeal in her throat. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m so excited!”

Me too, princess. Me too.

My cock presses against my zipper, so I flood my brain with thoughts of Sunday supper with Grandma to make the ache go away.

“Great.” I pull away quickly and glance down at the mess on my desk. “I’ll, ugh, I’ll have you fill out all the paperwork tomorrow morning. How’s eight sound?”

“Eight is perfect!” She grins wider and tips up onto her toes for yet another quick hug. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I need to get out of my brother’s house so bad! He’s a cop in Whiskey Falls and he comes home every night with these long, boring stories about all the weird shit that happens up there. Yesterday an angry goose barricaded a woman in her cabin, I guess.” She shrugs, and my heart fucking stops. “I don’t know why a town that small even needs a cop. I mean, Rugged Mountain is small, but Whiskey Falls is a fraction of the size.”

My chest tightens as I fumble through my papers, looking for her last name. “Who’s your brother?”

“Oh,” she twists her hair into her index finger, “Sheriff Williams. Sheriff Jack Williams.”

Fuck. Of course, her brother is Sheriff fucking Williams, that piece of shit. He set this up. He sent her here to seduce me and get the answers he needs.

Maybe he’s smarter than I think he is.

I consider sending her away, telling her that this arrangement won’t work, but as I stare toward the woman in the short pink skirt with puffy red lips, blonde hair, and more curves than a country road, I realize two can play at this game.

“Actually,” I rest my hand on her back and guide her toward my chair, “sit here. We should do that paperwork right now.” I hand her a pen and point to where she should start. “After you’re finished here, I’ll put you to work in the camp store. We had a raccoon break in last night and the place is a disaster.”

She glances toward me with narrowed brows. “What?”

“Yeah. It should only take a few hours to clean up.”

“Okay.” She nods and refocuses on the forms, her hair falling into her vision as she works.

If I’m wrong about this, I’m an asshole, but I’m fairly certain she’s the devil in disguise, and I’ve always been good at dancing with the devil.