So was I.

“You look way too happy to be at work right now.” I turn to see a sullen Kendra standing there, glaring at me.

“Guess I’m in a good mood,” I offer with a little shrug. No need to tell her any of my personal—or professional—business.

“I hate it here.” She takes a few steps toward me. “It’s always so busy.”

“’Tis the season,” I say, trying to keep it light.

“And people are so grumpy,” she continues.

“Not everyone.”

“Most everyone,” she stresses, her gaze narrowing as she studies me. “You’re always in a good mood, though.”

“Funny how if you’re in a good mood, so is everyone else around you,” I tell her, hoping she takes those words to heart. I start to walk, but she grabs hold of my arm, keeping me from leaving her.

“Hey, you want to get together tonight? Go out for a few drinks?” She smiles encouragingly.

I frown. “Are you even old enough to get into a bar?”

She rolls her eyes. “I have a fake ID.”

Great. Not about to go out with her when she’s flashing that. “No thanks.”

Kendra clings to my arm tighter. “No thanks? Seriously? I thought you liked me.”

“I don’t even know you,” I tell her, trying to shake her off, but she clings to me as if she’s never going to let go.

“We could get to know each other better.” Her voice is low, I guess in an attempt to be sexy, but it’s doing nothing for me.

As in, this woman does nothing for me.

“Don’t you have to get back to work?” I finally extract my arm from her grip, ready to make a run for it.

“I’m on break,” she practically whines. “Come on. Take me out to dinner tonight. I can show you a good time. You and me? We’re a lot alike. I get that you think you’re a big shot since you’re close to the boss, but he’s just using you, you know.”

Unease fills me at what she’s implying. “He’s not using me. I’m his employee. He’s our boss. I work for him.”

“Right, but you think you two are all buddy-buddy, when we all know it’s for show. He’s not your friend,” she says with the faintest sneer. Her expression switches up in a flash, and she’s smiling again, her gaze heavy lidded. Like she’s trying to flirt. “You don’t need anyone else when you could have me. I’ll make you forget all about your worries, Jonesie. I’m good at that. Let me show you.”

Her desperation is totally off-putting. And I don’t like the fact she just called me Jonesie, though most everyone around here still does, unfortunately.

“No thanks. I’ve got a girl,” I say. “Sorry.”

Her body stiffens and her eyes narrow. Clearly that’s not the answer she’s looking for.

“Huh. You’ve got a girl? I’ve never heard you talk about her before,” she says in a huff.

“Not like you and I talk much,” I throw back at her just as I start to walk away.