EXCERPT

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I gasped.

Brock’s eyes widened and then he threw back his head, laughing loudly and freely. “Ms. Lima, language.”

My face turned blood red. Did he seriously just say that to me?

Andre’s smile was a bit sly as he eyed the both of us, and I knew—I just knew—he was fully aware of the fact I had no idea Brock was going to be here. Just like my mother had to have known and just like my father had failed to mention.

My family was a bunch of assholes.

“Okay, I’m going to go—uh, pretend to do something,” Andre said.

Brock’s brown eyes were trained on me as he stepped aside and clapped the shorter man on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” Andre said to him, and my hands balled into fists.

The half-grin appeared on Brock’s mouth and he waited until Andre had disappeared. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word ‘fuck’ before.” His gaze flipped to the ceiling. “Well, there was the one time you tripped over your own feet and banged your knees off the pool deck. Pretty sure you yelled ‘fuck’ then.”

“This is not happening,” I murmured, heart thumping heavily in my chest.

“Actually, I think you yelled ‘fuck’ when your uncle Julio caught you trying to sneak out of the house. You remember that, right? You were trying to follow me—”

“You can stop,” I snapped, “with the walk down Fuck Lane.”

That grin increased, spreading into a full smile that caused my stomach to dip. I placed steadying hands on my desk. “Please tell me I’m dreaming right now.”

“If you were dreaming, I’d hope we’d both have less clothes on.”

“What?” My jaw hit the top of the table. Was he flirting with me? Not entirely surprising. If you looked up “flirt” on the internet, I was sure it had a picture of him grinning the panties right off of some chick, so I guessed a fiancée wasn’t going to change that.

Chuckling, Brock leaned against the door and folded his arms across his broad chest, stretching the material of his white button-down. My gaze dropped. Yep. He was wearing the damn Chucks. “You’re not dreaming, Jillian. I’m the new General Manager and you’re my assistant manager.”

“There is no way,” I said dumbly.

He glanced around, arching a brow. “Is it really that surprising?”

I wanted to scream yes, but I should’ve guessed it the moment I saw Brock Friday night. Anger swept through me. Not only did I feel incredibly stupid for not figuring out Brock was my new boss, I was extremely pissed everyone in my family had basically set me up.

Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Can you give me a second? Please?”

Brock didn’t move for a moment and then he unfolded his arms. “Your wish is my command.”

My fingers curled around the edge of the desk to stop myself from throwing something at him. The moment he stepped out of my office, I hurried to the door and closed it behind him. Storming back to the desk, I pulled my cellphone out of the little slip inside my purse and jabbed my finger on my father’s contact.

He answered on the third ring, his accented voice way too cheery for this time of the morning. “Jillian, my baby girl, are you—”

“Brock is the new General Manager?” I whispered-yelled into the phone.

“You’re at the office already? It’s not even eight-fifteen— Wait, Brock is already there too?” He laughed. “That is surprising.”

“That’s not really important right now.” I took a deep, calming breath. “Brock really is…he’s the GM?”

“I don’t think you really need to ask that question,” he responded. “Especially when you know the answer to it.”

Closing my eyes, I held the phone so tightly I was surprised it didn’t shatter into a million pieces. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have a made a difference?” he asked.

Yes. A thousand times yes, but I didn’t say that. I refused to admit that. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re going to have to ask him that.” There was a pause. “I didn’t offer you this job because I thought you couldn’t handle working with him or that you would be calling me on your first day, thirty minutes before you should even be there.”

Ouch.

“And I’m not saying that to hurt you, hon. You know that. Hurting you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.” There was another gap of silence while I contemplated knocking the computer off my desk with a ninja kick, and then Dad said, “You can do this.”

Then he hung up on me.

What in the hell?