Crazy About Her Impossible Boss. Ally Blake
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A freelance journalist, Cat’s life was a case of produce or starve. But it also meant that when Lucinda’s husband had left, deciding marriage and parenthood was all too hard—while Lucinda had been cooking dinner and holding their toddler in her arms, no less—Cat had moved in the next day, more than filling the space Joe had left behind. Making Lucinda realise how little she’d asked of him. How little space she’d taken up herself.
Sonny had been thirteen months old. Earlier that day he’d walked for the first time.
That was nearly seven years ago now.
And it had taken that long for the regular routine, the comfort of home and the warm hum of work success to make room for other hopes and dreams that had begun to flicker at the corner of her mind’s eye.
With a sigh, Lucinda sank into the lounge room chair.
“So,” said Cat, tap-tap-tap. “Did you tell him?”
And, just like that, Lucinda’s contented little bubble burst. “Hmm?”
“Angus. Did you finally tell him about this weekend?”
Lucinda wriggled on her seat, trying to get comfortable. “Yep.”
Cat’s fingers stopped tapping. “Really? Did you say the words, ‘Mr Wolfe, sir, I am taking next weekend off because my man-friend, the estimable heart surgeon Dr Jameson Bancroft-Smythe, and I are going away to a fancy resort for some grown up time’?”
Lucinda’s silence spoke volumes.
Cat snapped her laptop shut. “Seriously?”
“I said I was taking the weekend off. The reason why is none of his business.”
Cat’s nostrils flared. “You forced Angus to stay here, sleeping in your bed while you bunked in with Sonny after he had dental surgery, because the dentist said there was a chance of bleeding overnight. The two of you obsessively text one another through every new episode of that stupid Warlock school show. You both spend way too much time coming up with wilder and-or weirder gifts for one another, just because. Not to mention whatever went down at that crazy office Christmas party a couple of years back. You and I both know the lines are very much blurred between your boss’s business and your own.”
Lucinda’s throat had gone dry at the mention of the office Christmas party. Cat must have been really agitated as she knew better than to bring it up. The events of that night had miraculously remained classified, locked in a vault ever since.
Moving on after a surreptitious swallow, Lucinda said, “What exactly do you want me to say?”
“I want you to admit to me why you didn’t you tell him about Jameson. You didn’t have a problem telling me all about it. If you and Angus are as tight as you claim to be, why not tell him?”
Cat was no idiot. Quite the contrary. She was a shark despite the fact that, modern journalism being what it was, she wrote as many stories about Instagram celebrities as she did about human rights violations. Which was why she said, “I need to hear you say the words.”
Lucinda threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know why! Maybe I’ve enjoyed keeping this part of my life just for me. Maybe it still feels precious, fragile and not quite real, and if I say it out loud it will pop. Maybe I’m slightly concerned if Angus knows then he’ll come over here when Jameson is due to pick me up and answer the door with a shotgun in hand so Jameson knows not to mess with me. Maybe if I tell Angus he’ll ask questions, and poke holes in my logic, and convince me I’m making a huge mistake.”
Cat sighed. Dramatically. “Nobody but you can make you feel anything.”
Lucinda dropped her hands and looked indulgently at her big sister. “I know that. I do. I’m just nervous, okay? I want this weekend to go as smoothly as possible. I need it to. I’ve already put so much effort into keeping things going this far, considering how often we’ve had to cancel our plans with his work and mine. And Angus is right in the middle of this huge account, working for a man he looks up to a great deal. It felt better not distracting him with things that don’t matter.”
Cat snorted, as if she didn’t believe a word of it.
“He’s sensitive,” Lucinda attested. He really was. Highly attuned to people’s needs and wants. It was what made him so good at his work. Judging from the little bits and pieces she’d picked up over the years about his childhood, staying hyper-aware had been the only way he’d survived.
“He’s a man-child,” Cat muttered.
“Cat!”
“He has a driver, a cleaner, someone else who answers his phone. No wonder he hasn’t found his own girl to take away for a serious weekend—none of them could possibly live up to his contingent of carers. And, in that list, I include you.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Lucinda shot back. “Without my part as a cog in the Angus Wolfe wheel, we would never have been able to afford this beautiful little house in which we now sit, all cosy and warm.”
What she didn’t say to Cat was that she didn’t see herself as one of his “contingent of carers”. She was his outlet. His release. In the tough, hard-working, driven life of Angus Wolfe, she was unique.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” Cat asked. “You sell yourself short. And the great and wonderful Angus does too. He so takes you for granted. I could…” Cat stopped. Shook her head. “Tell him. Tomorrow. Or you’ll burst from holding it all in.”
Lucinda left Cat’s comment be. It wasn’t the first time Cat had tried to convince her Angus expected too much. She’d learned to agree to disagree.
She’d been an exhausted, inexperienced mother of a toddler who had no clue if she could do the job, much less commit to the hours required, when she’d interviewed to work for him. But he’d seen something in her nevertheless. Chutzpah, he’d said. A raging desire to pull herself up by the bootstraps that he understood.
He expected her to work hard, but he worked harder. And he’d never made her feel as if he took her for granted. Despite all she’d given up in order to work with him—time with her family, romantic relationships…
She shook her head and settled deeper into the chair.
“What ifs” were never worth the time spent dwelling on them. Life was good. Her family was healthy and happy. She loved her job. She had the security that came with having a roof over her head. What more could she want?
A devilish little voice whispered into her ear. Love. Intimacy. Romance. Someone who puts your needs first.
Hence the dirty weekend.
When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she found herself unsurprised to find a message from Angus.
She glanced at Cat, only to find her back typing at her ancient laptop.
The message asked if she was keen to start watching the final season of Warlock Academy on Netflix—a decade-old schlocky, supernatural teen drama they were both obsessed with. Another part of her job description—find TV shows just soapy enough to engage Angus and brain-numbing enough to let his active mind slow down so he could fall asleep at a reasonable hour.
She messaged back.
You bet.
Then she grabbed the remote, changed the channel, poked her tongue out at Cat when her sister groaned and settled in to watch teenaged witches and demons battle it out at a high school football match.
Though she kept shifting in her seat, unable to find a comfy spot.
For there was no denying that if she had to choose between her upcoming weekend away, with a handsome, eligible doctor who’d made it all too clear how much he liked her, or snuggling at home watching TV with a man who wasn’t even in the room, she’d choose the latter. Every time.
Worse,