Her Intern / Double Dare You. Anne Marsh

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       CHAPTER SIX

      Lola

      MAPLE AND I are having sad desk salads for lunch. She’s on some sort of mason jar salad kick this month, so she’s brought us each a glass jar crammed with more fiber and vegetables than I usually face in a week. Nellie flops by my feet, disappointed that it’s not bacon cheeseburger day.

      Frankly, I’m voting with Nellie. When Maple hands me my jar, my first thought is ooh, super pretty. The greens and vegetables are layered inside like a healthy version of three-bean party dip. I unscrew the lid and poke my fork inside.

      Maple aims hers at me. “How is Pretty Boy?”

      She thinks it’s hilarious that my summer intern is none other than Hot Lap Guy. She asked how he took finding out I’d be his boss for the summer, but I wasn’t sure what to tell her. I tried to apologize, he announced he wasn’t pro second chances, and then he stayed anyhow. I think that means he’s decided we can work together. Yes, I’ve felt his penis up through his pants and he’s had his hand on my knee, but no one has seen anyone naked and there’s been no tongue (which is slightly disappointing, if I’m being honest).

      I chew before confessing. “He’s a grumpy bastard.”

      “A grumpy, gorgeous bastard?” Maple beams at me.

      “He thinks I’m an idiot.” I wrestle with a cherry tomato that’s gotten wedged beneath a chunk of walnut.

      “You’re crushing on him.” Maple doesn’t bother making it a question. I’m always crushing on someone, probably because it’s the safe kind of fun—I don’t have to actually do anything besides lurk on the sidelines and watch. This makes me sound like a creepy voyeur, when it’s more that if I ever actually had a real-life relationship, I’d want it to be a spectacular success. I hate failing.

      “I’m not discussing my intern with you.” I shovel far too much salad into my mouth just in case she wears me down. Anything I say now will be garbled by arugula.

      “So there’s something to discuss?”

      “No!” I choke-swallow.

      “But you wish there was.” She daintily spears her own cherry tomato. “You’ve imagined it.”

      “It wouldn’t be professional.”

      She sighs and screws the top back onto her mason jar. “You should go for it.”

      “I don’t think we’re compatible. He’s gorgeous, but he insists on talking. Or barking orders. You’d think he was the company founder. I gave him a Burger King crown last week and he recycled it.”

      “So not Prince Charming?”

      I make a face. “Think troll living under the bridge. He’s cranky and he likes to jump out at people when they’re least expecting it and make ridiculous demands.”

      “So shut him down.” Maple waves her hand for emphasis. Unfortunately, it’s the hand holding her fork and a piece of spinach crash-lands on my shirt.

      “He’s useful.” I pick the spinach off my shirt, consider eating it, but opt for the mature route and instead deposit it in the trash can. “He organized the kitchen last week. He owns a label maker—do you think he qualifies as a psychopath?”

      He’d tackled the kitchen because he was bored. Unfortunately, he had good reason to be. I’d code-checked the code he’d written for Calla and he could have sold it on the open market. He’d also finished in forty-three hours. When I’d questioned how he’d found the time, he’d yawned and said he had chronic insomnia and therefore more than enough spare time to knock out my stupid project. Then he’d proceeded to explain—in unnecessary detail—why my original request was flawed, which had led to yet another flaming row between us.

      Maple groans. “Neither of you is crazy, okay? He’s just super organized and you’re—not.”

      “I could learn to be.” My jaw is sending distress signals to my brain, demanding we go on chewing strike. I give up on the salad and make a mental note to hit the taco truck.

      Maple snorts. “Or you could just keep driving him nuts.”

      I eye her doubtfully. “I either babble or go mute when he shows up. I don’t think he’s exactly struck dumb with lust by my sexy person.”

      Maple pats my shoulder. “Just sit on his lap again and it’ll all work out.”

      Dev

      Two weeks into my “internship,” I have a workable morning routine. I get up at the crack of dawn and power through whatever King Me requires before heading over to Calla. I’ve been putting out feelers, doing the social engineering thing, but so far none of my new office mates seem aware that their e-commerce software is pirated. And since their network СКАЧАТЬ