Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales #1)(4)

“Mine either.” He sat down and lifted the cover from her dinner plate. After setting it down, he picked up the bottle of Clos Du Val pinot noir, and leaned in. Her nose was inches from his, and she watched him with wide eyes. He had the undeniable urge to lean in even more and capture her mouth with his. Of course, he didn’t, but still. The impulse was there. “So let’s be rebellious together, Maggie.”

She let out a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Sure. Why not? Pour the wine, sir.”

“I like a woman who can see the merits of letting loose every once in a while,” he said.

She blinked at him, lowered her head, and straightened her napkin. “I don’t let loose very often.”

“I doubt that’s true.” He lifted a brow. “Surely when you’re at home, with your boyfriend, you—”

She lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I’ll stop you right there. There’s no boyfriend at home. As lame as it might sound, there’s just a cat.”

Satisfaction over her answer punched him in the chest, but he’d ignore that and the reason for it, too, thank you very f*cking much. “I don’t even have that.”

“The boyfriend?” She smiled, looking more at ease. “Or the cat?”

“Either one.” He picked up the wine. “Tell me, how long ago did you move to New York?”

She scrunched her nose, making those freckles dance. “Is it that obvious I’m not a native?”

“Yeah.” He poured her a glass. “Sorry.”

She laughed and blew out a breath. Her bangs fluttered, but fell right back into her sight. “No apologies needed. I’m sure I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“You’re very polite and you apologize too much.” He poured himself a glass, too, and held it up. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

She clinked her glass to his, and took a sip. He lifted his glass just as she muttered, “He says with an apologetic tone…”

Choking on his wine, he set the glass down and swallowed hard. “Did you seriously just narrate our conversation?”

“Um, maybe?” She flushed. “I talk to myself a lot. It’s a bad habit.”

Or a delightful one.

Setting his glass down, he picked up his fork, unable to tear his eyes off of her. Her knee brushed his under the table and she jerked it back right away, shooting a quick glance at him. He didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks, or her quickened breath at the contact, but damn it, he wished he had. Still not f*cking touching her, Gale. “You do?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

Fighting back a grin at her saucy tone, he shook his head. She’d turned his earlier words around on him. He’d always been a sucker for a quick wit, and the fact that she didn’t treat him like he was her boss, or the Beast of Gale, sat well with him. The rest of the workers tiptoed around him as if he might bite their heads off.

They weren’t exactly wrong.

He probably wasn’t the easiest boss in the world, but he didn’t demand anything from anyone that he didn’t ask from himself. “I don’t willingly say this about a lot of people, but I like you, Maggie.”

She flushed even more. “Uh—why?”

“For starters, you’re not afraid of me.” He swallowed a bite of eggplant parmesan. It was perfection. Chef Antoine had outdone himself. “It’s refreshing.”

She raised her brows and cut into her own dinner. “What’s to be afraid of?”

“I guess it’s because I’m a beast.”

She choked on her food, swallowed it, and reached for her wine with a shaking hand. He watched her with amusement as she drank the whole glass. Once finished, she set it down and locked eyes with him. “So, you heard that?”

He nodded once. “I also heard you defend me. Thank you.”

“Oh. That?” She waved a hand. “That was nothing. It’s ridiculous that they gave you that name in the first place. You being a strict boss doesn’t make you scary.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” She licked her lips, and he couldn’t look away from her red, exquisite mouth. Leaning in, she rested a small hand on his arm. Her innocent touch burned through his shirt, searing his skin, and he stiffened. Her nostrils flared slightly, and she held his arm tighter, as if she felt the instant attraction, too. His pulse sped up, and he shifted in his chair to accommodate his increasing hardness. “And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he didn’t. “So, uh, where are you from originally?”

It had been years since he’d been this curious about a woman. She worked so hard. Never complained, and she was beautiful in a quiet and serene kind of way. She was nothing like the women he used to date—not that this was a date, nor was he even thinking about her that way. Okay, well, maybe a bit.

But they were just two people getting to know each other on a Friday night. At the office. He was rewarding her for her efforts. Yes, that’s what this was.

That’s all this was.

“A farm in South Dakota.” She put her fork down and held a hand up. “You’re shocked people actually live there, right?”

He swallowed a laugh. “Well, now that you mention it…”