Instead of any of those things, what came blurting out of my mouth was, “Are you seeing someone?”
Though I did a better job of hiding it, I was just as surprised as she was. I’d been wanting to know the answer to that since I first spotted her in the hallway by the break room, but I didn’t have any intention of asking until I got some sort of sign that she was interested. Or at least until I had made a decision to pursue her or not.
Mallory shifted in her seat and shook her head. Her cheeks darkened with a hint of pink and I was delighted by the tiny smile I saw on her lips.
She wasn’t uncomfortable. She was embarrassed, yes—but she was also flattered.
I could work with that.
“No? I find that hard to believe.”
We were in dangerous territory and the uncertain look she directed my way told me that she knew it too, and yet she responded anyways.
“I don’t date much to begin with and this being a new city and all...” she trailed off with a half-smile and a shrug, as if that should explain it.
“How do you get to work?”
Mallory was thrown, her voice faltering a little as she said, “The bus?”
“I bet if you walked, ten men would stop you on the street to ask for your number,” I told her heatedly, smirking when her eyes widened. “The new city excuse doesn’t work for a woman as beautiful as you.”
It might have been pushing it, but it was well worth the flabbergasted smile and red cheeks. Whether I had come to a decision or not, my attraction was definitely known now.
I had no idea what exactly I was expecting to happen, but it certainly wasn’t for her to stumble over her words as she forced an excuse to cut out. I frowned as I stood up, nodding politely when she thanked me for her check and feeling the frown return as I watched her practically run from the office.
That was... not the reaction I was hoping for.
I flopped back into my seat and scrubbed my palm against my jaw, trying to figure out what the fuck I wanted from her. When I failed to figure it out by seven o’clock, I flicked the lights out and went home for another lonely weekend.
5
Mallory
I was pretty sure that running from Mr. Wolfe’s office right after he called me beautiful officially made me insane.
But what the hell was I supposed to do? I didn’t think it’d be very appropriate to ask what his weekend plans were and try to subtly insert myself into whatever he was doing. He was my boss, after all. Not a potential suitor.
Or was he both?
Was asking about my personal life and calling me beautiful just a pleasantry, or was he possibly interested in me as well? I spent the whole bus ride home considering the possibility. Was it really that crazy to consider? I knew I wasn’t an unattractive woman.
I just didn’t know why a man like Mr. Wolfe would be interested in me. Surely he had a harem of glamorous women already.
There was too much going on in my head to even fathom the idea of a shower when I first got home, so I plopped on my couch and tapped my fingernail against the screen of my cell phone.
What I really needed was an outsider’s perspective. Since I was lacking in the friends department, I called the one person who I knew would give me an unbiased opinion.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie! How was your day? Did you get your first paycheck?”
“Yeah. But I… I called because there’s a problem.”
“With the check? I don’t think I can—”
“It’s not the check,” I interrupted with a heavy sigh. “It’s me. I… I have a crush on my boss.”
After she finished the initial round of scolding, Mom began to grill me for details about Mr. Wolfe. When she found the information lacking, she started questioning our interactions thus far, curious about how I managed to develop a crush on someone I hardly knew.
I revealed enough snippets to satisfy her while also keeping some parts—like the various physical reactions I had whenever he was near—to myself.
When she finally had a clearer picture, all she did was let out a curious hum and ask, “Do you think he might be the one?”
I knew she didn’t mean the love of my life. She wouldn’t even ask that—it was way too soon. But she was very aware of the fact that I was waiting and looking for love, regardless of the length it may last for.
“Maybe,” I responded.
Part of me wished I never replied because I was gifted with a refresher course of the birds and the bees talk we had when I was a teenager. She thankfully didn’t chide me about his age—I suppose because my father was a decade older than her—but she did vaguely express concerns about what a man his age might expect.