“Ha-ha, very funny. My backside is at least worth a couple twenties.” My slight smile turns to a frown. “Shit. I have a meeting in an hour with Sulley O’Shea about a potential endorsement deal. I can’t meet her with my ass hanging out.”
“Oh, the basketball player? I just love her. You know, if you were wearing festive underwear, you could totally pull it off as a fashion choice,” Mom adds helpfully, tapping a well-manicured finger against her smirking lips. I give her my best evil eye. Antonio is still laughing, the fucker.
“Why don’t you put on your coat to cover your…situationand go home to change pants?” Mindy suggests.
I nod. “Good idea.” Backing into my office to get my coat, I call, “Thanks for your help, Mom.”
“No problem, honey. Try not to flash anyone else today.”
If she weren't my mother, I would flip her the bird.
I make it back to the office with intact pants and time to spare.
“Hello, Your Mooniness,” Mindy says when I enter.
I sigh. “Are you keeping up with all the names you call me every day?”
“No, but I should probably start a spreadsheet or something. Just so I can go back and read them all for my own amusement.”
Stopping at her desk, I rest my hip on the edge. “Can I ask you a question?”
She looks up at me curiously, and I want to tell her how damn pretty her eyes are. “Sure.”
“What happened to your mother?”
Her lips turn down at the corners. “It was stage-four pancreatic cancer. By the time she was diagnosed, it was too late to do much.”
“Ooh,” I wince. “I’m so sorry, Mindy. I had a friend in college who lost his dad to pancreatic cancer. He said the same about the prognosis.”
“They gave her less than six months, but she managed to hold out for eight,” she says, rolling her pen absently back and forth across her desk.
“How long ago was it?”
““It will be seven years in January.”
I count the months backward in my head. “So your mom was diagnosed in May?”
She swallows hard. “Yes, it was actually the week after…” She waggles a finger between the two of us.
“The week after our night together?” I ask quietly, and she nods, averting her eyes to her hand still rolling that pen across the desk. I stop the movement, taking her small hand in mine. Her gaze lifts to my face in question. “I’m really sorry about your mom, and… and I’m here if you ever need anyone to talk to.”
The tiniest of smiles crests her red-painted lips. “Thanks. I guess you’re a pretty okay boss when you’re not trying to fire me.”
Though I don’t want to, I force myself to release her hand and stand up. “And I guess you’re a pretty okay executive assistant. When you’re not calling me Your Mooniness.”
She giggles, and I love the sound. “I guess you should probably keep me around then,” she suggests.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” I say, making my legs carry me into my office.
Because I’d love nothing more than to keep her around. The problem? My reasons aren’t altogether professional.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The terrible, brilliant plan
Mindy
“Holy hell, that’s cold,”I squeak, stepping into my shower on Wednesday morning. Aunt Lorraine is picking me up soon, and we’ll be making the hour-long drive down to Galveston for Thanksgiving.