Page 6 of Hot for the Boss

“I know, but do you have to move near them? They’re all recently married and getting ready to have babies. Will being around a bunch of expectant newlyweds really make you feel less alone?” When I frown, she holds up her hands. “Sorry. I said too much. Of course, they’re your family, and it’s your call.”

“I understand the move seems sudden to you. But my mind is set.”

She nods, not exactly thrilled but accepting. “What I should say is, if you decide you’d work better with me in Hawaii, then when you move, I’ll go, too. I know you said I don’t have to relocate, but…”

I didn’t ask because she has a life here. Because she was always involved with someone. Because it didn’t seem necessary. And maybe because Becca always insisted I’d benefit from a more experienced assistant. Whatever the reason, I’m now rethinking my decision to leave Nia behind.

“Just putting it out there,” she says, staring into her wineglass. “I mean, since you’re taking Sebastian⁠—”

“I couldn’t have stopped him from coming if I tried. He hates the gray and the rain here.” And I suspect I’ll miss them. They suit me, especially these last six months.

“Yeah, he’s been vocal about that.”

“Thanks for volunteering to come along. I’ll give that some serious thought.”

“Whatever works for you.” She shrugs. “I don’t have any family or specific reason to stay, so…why not?”

We finish dinner, sharing the rest of the bottle and some comfortable business conversation. By the time we push away from the table, it’s shortly after nine. The moon hangs like a big silver orb over my insane view of the Space Needle and Elliott Bay. I’ll miss this scenery, but I’m confident that Maxon and Griff, my two half brothers who are successful Realtors in Maui, will find me something equally stunning.

Nia begins to clear the table, and I follow suit, helping her stack everything in the sink. She puts the lid on the pot of gumbo and shoves it in the refrigerator. “There’s enough leftovers for you to eat another meal or two. I’m going to let you do the dishes so you can practice your new skills.”

I know it’s good for me, but… “Am I supposed to appreciate that?”

She laughs, and I’m struck by the glow of the moonlight on her dark, gleaming skin. By the flash of white teeth against her rosy lips, by the fall of her fat, loose curls cascading over her shoulders and toward the plump breasts I never really realized she had before this moment.

Shit. I have to stop thinking about those. About her. I’m her boss; our interaction can’t be personal.

“I know you won’t, but think of this as tough love,” she joked. “Now…do I even want to know the last time you changed your sheets?”

Her question makes me freeze. I’m sure I look somewhere between lost and ashamed. The truth is, Becca changed them two days before she died, and I’ve never had the gumption to take them off. I thought about it, but every time I tried, I felt like I was ripping another reminder of her out of my life. Even months after her death, Becca can still inspire guilt in my technically geared heart.

“Don’t ask,” I admit finally.

“Do you know how?”

Vaguely. “Yes.”

Nia cocks her head as if she’s reading me. After three years as my “work wife,” I have a terrible feeling she actually can. “Do you want me to do it?”

I swallow, then nod. Becca is gone and she isn’t coming back. Keeping her sheets on the bed won’t change that. “Please. I’ll find a clean set.”

“All right.” She follows me down the hall. “I’ll stick the dirty ones in the washer before I go.”

“Trash them.” I don’t want to see them again. And I won’t be taking them to Hawaii.

Everything there will be new, never touched by Becca.

“If you’re sure… What about the rest of your laundry?”

I’m surprisingly embarrassed to admit that I’ve been ordering new pairs of underwear and socks every week. Most everything else goes to the dry cleaners. “If you’ll show me how to work the washer and dryer, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll get you started,” she assures softly as we reach the bedroom I once shared with my wife and flip on the light. “Whoa.”

Yeah, spread across the room is a jungle of shoes, neckties, socks, and T-shirts. “It’s a disaster. I know.”

This used to be my haven, my favorite spot to read one last report before bed or watch TV on the weekends. Now, I hate to come in here. Every time I do, Becca haunts me. Tonight, the sensation is strong. I feel guilty for being so eager to leave this place behind.

“Well, the good news is, it’s fixable.”