Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(24)

Plus, this was the guy who had asked me about the Jolly Ranchers in my pocket. I couldn’t have pictured it before today. In my head, Brad was a tough working/dating machine. Today was the first time I had seen him a little softer, with less edge. I guessed his nieces did that to him.

My phone buzzed next to me, and I groaned. “It’s your uncle. Hurry, eat faster.”

I started shoveling rice into my mouth like there was a shortage, and Sarah followed suit. When we lifted our heads from our plate, our eyes would meet, and we’d laugh.

“It’s like he knew we were talking about him.” Her cheeks puffed out, overfilled from rice.

I let the phone ring three times before I picked up. “Hello?” I crumpled the tin wrapper that had once held my taco and tossed it in my empty bowl of rice.

“You left without me.” His voice was accusatory, as though I’d committed a crime.

“Sarah’s a growing girl, and she needs sustenance. You wouldn’t want to be the sole reason that her growth is stunted.” I winked at Sarah. “Plus, I get hangry and need to eat on time.” I reached for Sarah’s napkins and tin wrapper where her burrito had once been in and tossed it in my tray.

“Where are you?” he asked.

The buzz of cars echoed around him. The honking of horns blared in the background, indicating he was already out of the office.

“I told you we were going to Gomez’s Burritos.” I stuffed a nacho chip into my mouth. “It’s fine. We are just about done here. I e-mailed you.”

“Where is that place?”

“It’s on a side street. You’ll never find it.”

Sarah eyed my nachos, and I pushed it toward her.

“Never mind. I’ll find you. I’ll track Sarah’s phone.” Then, he hung up.

I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. I hated that he had done that. It annoyed the crap out of me.

“He’s coming.” I dropped my phone and dipped my chip into the most wonderful glop of salsa. “Someone should really teach your uncle some manners.”

“Uncle Brad?” She snorted. “Yeah, maybe you should be the one to do that. It’s funny how you give it to him right back. I’ve never seen anyone do that—well, besides Uncle Mason.”

“That’s kind of our relationship.” I reached for another chip.

If I wasn’t snippy, he’d flirt. I’d seen how he acted with the other women in the office. It was his natural demeanor. I’d bet he had been born a flirt. So, I was rude, showed I wasn’t interested, and he left me alone and kept it strictly professional. For the past two years, that was how it had always been. I just prayed that our deal—my invitation to this wedding—wouldn’t change the dynamic between us.

Ten minutes later, Brad strolled into the restaurant. Two women sitting in the booth next to us dropped their tacos midair, and their eyes followed Brad, in his crisp navy-blue Armani suit. A suit I’d specifically picked up at the cleaners three days ago.

He swaggered toward us, tie neatly in place, suit jacket and pants pressed to perfection. One would never guess his morning had gone sideways, except for maybe the scowl on his face.

“Thomas McCloskey is an a—ape.” He undid his tie, glanced at Sarah, and then plopped down in the booth next to me. “He’s not a very nice person.”

He meant asshole. I’d worked with this man long enough that I could finish his sentences, which was pretty sad.

“Where’s my food?” He frowned at the crumbled-up foil on my tray and the half-eaten chips.

“I was going to pick up your regular—an Italian sandwich—on the way back. I don’t know what type of Mexican food you like.”

He had picky tastes. I could guess his everyday sandwich and his black morning coffee. Anything out of his routine, I was at a loss.

I pointed to the mile-long line in front of us. “The line starts there.”

He could boss me around during work hours, but my lunch was my time, my small reprieve from his tyranny.

“I thought you were gonna get me lunch.” His scowl grew deeper.

“Yes, on my way back to the office, like I always do.” I couldn’t remember the last time Brad and I’d had lunch together outside the office. Never. Never in all the time I’d been working for him.

He took in the booths, the swarm of people standing and eating, the concrete floor, exposed walls, and workers crowded behind the tiny kitchen counter. I knew exactly what he was going to say next, so I beat him to it before he could insult my favorite place to eat in the whole downtown Chicago area.

“You’ll love this food; trust me.”

But my comment could not stop his snotty one. “Are you sure this place is up to code with the Board of Health?”

“It’s no three Michelin star place, but it’s more than fine.” I pulled off my glasses, blew hot breaths on the lenses, and cleaned it off with my sleeve. “If you want to go, we can go.”

“Uncle Brad …” Sarah started. “It’s one of the best tacos I’ve ever had. Just try it.”

I stood, ready to leave, but Brad motioned me back to my seat and stood himself.

“I’m going to get some tacos. Do you guys want anything else?”

“I’m about to go. Did you want to stay with your uncle, Sarah?”