The Hookup Handbook(15)

“You heard me say that he’s my boss, right? He’s strictly off-limits.”

“So? It’s not like this is your permanent job. After this summer, he won’t even be your boss anymore. But sex like that? You’ll remember that for a lifetime.”

After I shut her down a few more times, Allison eventually drops the topic, and the conversation moves on to other things. But as we finish our drinks and hug good-bye, she can’t resist bringing it up one last time.

“Just think about what I said, okay?” she says, squeezing my arm before heading to her car.

But she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I haven’t been able to shake the thought all night. The whole drive back to the apartment is dedicated to trying to dismiss the thought as even an option.

A summer fling with my boss is the definition of a recipe for disaster. So, why does the thought make my inner thighs twitch with excitement? I know he knows what he’s doing. I’ve been reading about it all week.

Back at the apartment, I’m greeted by Ryder’s soft snoring, paired with the low rumbling chatter of an infomercial. The back-to-back appointments almost every day this week must have caught up to him. Seeing him with the remote in hand and splayed across the couch with his mouth wide open, I have to resist the urge to take a picture for potential blackmail purposes. Since he let me move in, I’ll spare him this time.

I slip off my shoes, carrying them by the heels as I pad across the hardwood on tiptoe. If Ryder wakes up, I’ll have to face the “how was your day” conversation. Oh, it was fine. I just sat on the boss’s bed and played nurse for him all day.

Ryder would be beyond pissed. I think. Or he wouldn’t think anything of it. Maybe Allison’s crazy suggestion just has me reading into everything too much. Luckily for me, I can head to bed without finding out. For tonight, I’ll let sleeping dogs lie. Or sleeping brothers, in this case.

Once my teeth are brushed and my face is scrubbed, I slide on a pair of pajama shorts and then go straight to bed after making a quick pit stop to grab my phone out of my purse on the way. As luck would have it, I have a notification—a text from Case.

What is he doing texting me this late? If he’s half as sick as he was earlier, he should be sound asleep.

Pulling my comforter up to my nose, I take a deep breath and open the text.

Hey, you have an interview at the ballet studio I told you about the other day. Monday morning.

I do a double, maybe even a triple take. Is this for real?

Jolting up, I press on Case’s contact, then hold the phone to my ear. We’re not talking about this tomorrow; we’re talking about this right now.

There’s barely half a ring before he picks up. “Kind of late for you to be calling me, Ms. Johnson. Did you forget how sick I am?”

“You’re the one who texted me.” I’m moderately annoyed by his sass, but I don’t have time to be annoyed right now. I need details, stat. “Care to explain what that text is supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake Ryder.

“What is there to explain? You have an interview at the dance studio. They’re looking to fill a teaching position for their preschool ballet classes, and you fit the bill. I told you, I know the owner very well.”

I try to suppress a shudder. “Did you . . . is she a client?”

Case snickers. “No, not a client. Just an old family friend. We had a phone call to discuss my contribution for the year, and I put in a good word for you. I didn’t know they were hiring, but one thing led to another, and I told her you’d be a good fit. She’s expecting you at nine on Monday morning.”

A tight knot forms in my stomach. “Damn it. I can’t. Maybe you forgot, but I have another job that is expecting me at nine on Monday morning.”

“Maybe you forgot, but I’m your boss, and I say you have the morning off.”

Something about his tone brings back that twitch in my inner thighs again. Goddamn it.

He follows his domineering comment with a much softer one. “It’s a job I think you’d actually like. I wouldn’t let you miss this for the world, Sienna.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Just okay?” There’s disappointment in his tone that I’ve never heard before.

I know that he wants me to be excited, but am I supposed to act like this special treatment is normal? I let out a long breath, my thighs relaxing. I’m too tired to argue with him about it right now.

“More than okay. This is incredible. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday after your interview. Now, let me go to sleep. My nurse today told me to get lots of rest and only worry about getting better.”

“Oh. Well, feel better then.”

I swear I can hear his smug smile through the phone. “Good night, Sienna.”

“Good night, Case.”

I wait for him to hang up before tucking my phone away in my nightstand drawer, eliminating the temptation to text him.

I don’t know what’s harder for me to believe—that I just had a midnight phone call in bed with my boss, or that I just landed an interview to teach ballet. All of it feels so surreal.

Part of me wants to turn down the opportunity, to refuse this special treatment, but working at a ballet studio would make all my childhood dreams come true. And it would solve the issue of figuring out what I’m doing with my life, because teaching ballet sounds a million times better than grad school.