Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(8)

“Sorry,” he said, giving Caldwell his best innocent look. “Go on!”

“Your job is pretty easy as far as jobs go,” Caldwell said.

Right. That’s why your PA had a nervous breakdown.

“You will book and arrange travel, transport and accommodation. You will manage databases and filing systems. It will be your responsibility to make sure that the suits I keep in my office”—Caldwell motioned toward the door that presumably led to the closet—“are clean and unwrinkled. You will accompany me to meetings and take notes.” Caldwell paused, looking at him, as if daring Miles to say that there were apps that could do that, too.

Miles kept his mouth shut, his lips tightly pursed to stop him from smiling.

“There are hundreds of other small tasks you will have to perform. I have neither the time nor the desire to recite them for you. You job is to make my life easier; that’s all you need to remember. Your job is to follow my orders, as quickly as possible. You will do everything I say, exactly as I say.”

Miles nodded, hoping he looked appropriately serious and earnest.

Judging by Caldwell’s narrow-eyed gaze, he hadn’t entirely managed to hide his mirth.

“Am I amusing to you?” Caldwell said.

“Not at all,” Miles said honestly. “But the situation kind of is.”

Caldwell raised an eyebrow.

Miles was impressed. He could never manage to raise a single eyebrow without looking constipated and ridiculous: he knew it because he had practiced the expression in front of the mirror but ended up laughing at himself every time. People who could do it and make it look effortless must be some kind of freaks.

“The situation?” Caldwell repeated.

Running a hand through his hair, Miles nodded with a sheepish smile. “I kind of came to America to take a break from my bossy eldest brother, but now I have a boss who can give him a run for his money. It’s pretty ironic, isn’t it?”

Caldwell stared at him strangely, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of him. “You’re very odd.”

Miles laughed. “Thanks. I think.” At least odd was better than boring.

Caldwell was still staring at him.

“Um,” Miles said with a small smile. “So, am I hired?”

“Yes.” Caldwell’s gaze finally moved away from him. He stared at his computer, but Miles got the strangest impression that he wasn’t really looking at it.

Miles cleared his throat. “So, do you want me to do something for you right now, Mr. Caldwell?”

Caldwell shook his head to himself before returning his gaze to Miles—and staring again.

It was starting to really weird Miles out.

He moistened his dry lips with his tongue, unsure what the hell was going on.

Caldwell looked away again, something irritated about him. “Make me coffee,” he said testily, nodding toward the unobtrusive door to the right. “Black, no sugar. You do know how to make coffee, right?”

“Of course not,” Miles said with a straight face. “It’s illegal to drink anything other than tea in England.”

Caldwell gave him an unimpressed look. “Then let’s hope you’re a quick learner. I want my coffee within ten minutes.”

“Sure.” Striding toward the door, Miles rolled his eyes. The guy needed to lighten up.

“Rolling your eyes at your employer is a fireable offense, Miles.”

Miles froze, confused, before realizing that there was a mirror on the wall and Caldwell must have been watching him through it.

“Creep,” Miles muttered under his breath.

“Calling your employer names when he can’t hear you is a fireable offense, too,” Caldwell said, his voice very dry.

Miles looked over his shoulder and smiled. “You should fire me, then.”

Caldwell’s narrow-eyed gaze was the last thing Miles saw before he closed the door behind himself.

He looked around the small room. It had a red couch, a table, a fridge, and a coffeemaker. A very fancy coffeemaker.

Miles eyed it warily.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and opened Google. He would be damned if he proved Caldwell right.

He was going to make the best coffee that prick had ever tasted.





Chapter 4


A week later, Miles was at his wits’ end.

“I hate him!” he complained to Sofia, flopping down into the chair by her desk with a frustrated groan.

She shot him a sympathetic, if somewhat amused, look. “What did he do now?” she said quietly, shooting a wary look at the closed door into the Monster’s Lair.

Miles scowled at it. Now he understood why Caldwell’s PA had suffered a nervous breakdown. At this rate, he would, too. “He drives me crazy, Sofia. There’s no pleasing him, I always get something wrong, but he still refuses to fire me and get a real PA! At this point, I’ll be ecstatic to get fired.” He’d never considered himself an easily frustrated person, but Ian Caldwell was proving him wrong.

“If it’s so unbearable, you can always quit, Miles,” she said, clicking her tongue.

“I can’t,” Miles said.

For one thing, there was his promise to the Rutledges to keep an eye on Caldwell.

For another, he was pretty sure Caldwell wouldn’t let him quit.