The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Read Free Book Online Page A

life I’ve been wet.” She shot me a look under her lashes, then sighed and hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “Okay. Just a ride to the train.”
    I intended to drive her all the way home, but that inevitable fight could wait a few more minutes. Why have all my fun at once?
    We walked down to the parking garage in silence. The building was nearly tomb-quiet, but I knew the cameras were still going. Whatever Violet thought about us walking out together, the fact remained was that we certainly didn’t appear to have engaged in intimate contact recently. Grace stayed as far away from me as she possibly could, walking stiffly in those seductive shoes that made her ass sway. I wished I could walk behind her to get the entire effect, but other than opening doors for her, that probably would’ve been a bit obvious.
    I led her to my Land Rover and she got inside, buckling up in silence. I’d begun to think she wouldn’t speak at all until we were miles from the home address she’d listed in Marblehead on her employment form. I knew the area well, since I owned several properties there—including my latest acquisition, which was far more important than all the rest—and the street she’d indicated didn’t ring a bell. The town proper wasn’t large, but it had a few streets that were strictly zoned commercial, though there were a few residential buildings scattered among the businesses.
    “Stop here,” she said once we were a couple of blocks from the address I’d memorized.
    I frowned, glancing around. “We’re not on—”
    “There’s a new all-night coffee shop on the corner. I spend my evenings there before I go home.” She tugged a small generic-brand tablet out of her bag and waved it, along with a stylus. “I’m into those coloring apps.”
    “A coloring app? What the hell is that?”
    She shook her head as if I was impossibly daft. Perhaps I was. “It’s just what it sounds like. It’s an app where you color onscreen using your stylus or your finger. It’s not quite as satisfying as holding a colored pencil, but it’s still fun.”
    “Or eating a crayon,” I mused.
    She laughed as I swung to the curb near the coffee place. “What? You eat crayons?”
    “Ate. Turquoise tasted the best. Of course this was back in kindergarten, so they’ve most likely changed all the colors now. They’re probably all girly.”
    “Because turquoise is so manly.”
    “Hmph.” I hit the button to unlock the car and glanced around at the hushed, water-logged streets, uncomfortable with leaving her there even if her street was close by. But the coffee shop looked inviting inside, with low lights and people clustered around tables. “I can join you, wait until you’re ready to go.”
    Her safety wasn’t my only consideration. Marblehead wasn’t exactly a dangerous environment. I was also curious about this app she’d mentioned, I had to admit.
    And perhaps I was in no hurry at all to return to my own quiet, empty house.
    “I’ll be here for hours. Surely you have better things to do with your time than play footsy with me.”
    “Play footsy?” That was an intriguing idea. Almost as intriguing as not worrying about being caught on camera. I was known in this town and in much of this area, but still, Marblehead offered me a slice of sanctuary I’d found nowhere else.
    Which was why when my dream home had entered the market, I’d snapped it up. Annabelle Stuart’s place was a home, because she’d made it so. I’d yet to go inside it since her death, because I wasn’t ready to face the reality of that house—of the world—without her in it.
    How did Grace, I wondered, and nearly asked her until I remembered the lines that divided us weren’t only boss and employee. She didn’t know who I was, not really. Not like I knew her.
    The sound of old swings echoed in my mind, that endless creak. The scuff of sneakers dragging against the ground as she achieved liftoff. Long blond braids, a plaid skirt and