Misadventures with the Boss (Misadventures #12)(15)

An hour later, I headed back to my office and stopped short, looking around in confusion. Had I been so distracted that I’d gone to the wrong floor or something? I peered around the door to find Piper there in the corner with a sticky note in hand.

Okay, so, definitely my office, but it had been altered.

Completely.

Rather than facing the door, my desk was now focused on the one wall that wasn’t glass. On that white wall hung four matching bulletin boards, each of which looked important and organized. My desk was completely cleared, save my computer and three boxes marked In, Pending, and Out, and the bar cart in the corner nearest the window had been replaced with a mini coffee maker.

Piper hovered near a board that had been marked off into three sections. She was thumbtacking a Post-it to it when I closed the door behind me. She looked up with a nod.

“Hi there.”

“What the hell did you do?” I demanded, still in shock as I took one cautious step toward my desk.

“A few things, actually. First of all, studies show the workplace tends to be happier if there is fresh air and sunlight, so I adjusted the layout of the office to maximize productivity and mood.”

I blinked. I guess I couldn’t exactly argue with that. Still, though…

“What’s all this, then?” I motioned to the boards.

“These are your new lifelines.” She made a flourishing motion like she was Vanna White. “This”—she motioned to the board beside her—“is your Kanban board. Are you familiar with it?”

I’d heard of it, but I shook my head, waiting for her to continue.

“So, we have three sections. Things that need to be done, things you are doing, and things that have been done. This way, your to-do list doesn’t clog up your brain. Beneath it, I’ve made another Kanban board of things you’d like me to do, so rather than sending emails and forgetting whether you’ve told me things, they’ll all be directly visible to both of us.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” I said somewhat grudgingly. “And everything else?”

“Your calendar.” She moved to the next board. “That’s been color-coded based on who you’re meeting with. Personal matters are in black for quick reference, but I posted a key for everything else.” She smiled. “You also have a digital version on your computer now that will remind you of events the day and hour before.”

“And my bar cart?” I asked. I knew I was being an asshole, because so far everything she said made perfect sense, but change and I were like oil and water, and I was still reeling from the unapproved total office renovation.

She’d said she wanted to move things around a little, not change everything.

“It says in your manual that you drink five cups of coffee a day and hardly ever drink in the office. Makes no sense to have a bar cart where there could be a hot, fresh cup of coffee at arm’s length.”

Even now, my mouth watered for a fresh mug, but that wasn’t the point. “The champagne—”

“Is for clients.” She nodded. “So I’ve put it in the executive break room and will fetch it on request. Which, as far as I can tell, happens like twice a month. This way, we can chill the bottles on ice before clients arrive. I’ve set up a system.”

“That’s an understatement,” I said, glancing around. “But if you’ve set up all this stuff for me to do myself, then what are you going to do?”

“Help you with all the other stuff you have to do,” she said with a strained smile. “That’s what you hired me for.”

“Right.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and then settled into my chair. “Thank you. Will you please—”

“Lunch is already ordered.”

I shook my head. “How did you know?”

“Same time every day.” She shrugged. “Says so in the manual. I had your Meals-to-Go login, so I’ve gotten you the usual at Sal’s Deli. It should be here right on schedule.”

“I hope you ordered something for yourself,” I said, though in truth I felt lost for words.

She nodded, her tone clipped and businesslike. “Yep, you gave me a very generous allowance for lunches, and I appreciate it.”

Without a word, she turned on her heel and strolled toward the door. When it clicked shut behind her, I stared after her, wondering what the hell had just happened.

In the history of all my assistants, the first few days were nothing more than handholding and making sure they remembered how I liked my coffee. Never—not once—had anyone walked in and taken control like Piper. Nobody had ever been so thoughtful, so attentive.

Which, of course, made my life that much harder.

After all, I couldn’t exactly get rid of a perfectly good assistant when it had taken me months to find someone like her. But then, even when she’d been explaining her perfectly color-coded system, I’d been half imagining unbuttoning that staid little shirt of hers and getting another look at what lay underneath.

A lethal combination of feelings, there was no doubt about it.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I gripped the arms of my chair, propelled myself up, and walked toward my square of neat bulletin boards. Maybe she’d missed something—some detail that would ruin everything if I hadn’t caught it myself. That would give me a reason to let her go with a clear conscience. After all, organization was good, but not at the cost of business.