“Good morning. How’s the hand?” Hailey asked as I set my backpack next to her desk. “You can sit at Bossman’s desk. I have a bunch of invoices for you to sort through today. Just set his shit in a pile on the floor.”

“My hand is fine. Thanks.” I gathered the papers and blueprints on his desk and set them on the floor in the corner. “Have you seen him this morning?” I asked.

“Not yet. I assumed you two would be riding together.”

“He had a date last night.” I poured myself a cup of coffee. “I don’t think he came home.”

“Oh …” She lifted her eyebrows and grinned. “Go, Fisher, go.”

No. Why did she say that? Maybe because she had sexual fantasies about other men, not her boss. I envied her. It’s not like I wanted to pine for Fisher like a pathetic teenager.

Teenager.

Oh my gosh … it wasn’t until the word popped into my brain that I realized I had let the whole “adult” thing go to my head. Sure. Eighteen was legally adulthood, but I was eighteen which meant I was a still a teenager.

That seemed so wrong, to be a teenaged adult. Like an oxymoron.

Fisher got laid by a real woman. A non-teenaged adult woman. What was I thinking? And why couldn’t I stop?

“Yay, Fisher,” I said, lacking all enthusiasm just like the fake smile I tossed in Hailey’s direction as I carried my coffee to Fisher’s desk.

“I wonder if it was the orthodontist? Meghan or … Keegan? I can’t remember, but if it’s Jason’s friend from high school, then it’s the orthodontist.”

An orthodontist. How was I supposed to compete with that? Highly educated, self-sufficient, real adult orthodontist. Or … teenaged adult who cried because she scraped her knees and got a little nail prick?

“Think you can hold things down for thirty minutes while I run a quick errand?”

My head snapped up at Hailey, and I nodded quickly. “Um … sure.”

“Cool. So here are the invoices. Just sort them by distributer then alphabetize them. They’ve all been scanned and saved on the computer, but Fisher likes hardcopy backups to everything.”

“Got it.”

“Can I get you anything while I’m out? A bagel? Better coffee?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Twenty minutes into sorting invoices, the office door opened and Bossman sauntered inside carrying a to-go cup of coffee. “That’s my desk.”

“How was your date?” I kept sorting, refusing to look at him.

No need to see his messy hair, unfairly sexy body in dark jeans, boots, and a black tee with his construction logo on the back. I didn’t care about his square jaw and sinful smile.

Nope.

I had stuff to sort.

“Fine. Where’s Hailey? Where’s my stuff?”

“On the floor.” My hands kept sorting papers, but I stopped focusing on any sort of alphabetical order.