The Wrong Attachment

The office was buzzing with shockwaves. Edmund Lynch, the boss, had just dropped a bombshell.

[Clock out, and take an extra three days off.]

"Is Mr. Lynch off his rocker?" Janice Carter, my desk neighbor, could not stop refreshing her phone.

I clutched my phone, my mind a whirlwind of confusion.

What about the vacation days I had earned by quitting?

Was that just my rotten luck? I could not help but think.

"The economy's tanking. Maybe Mr. Lynch can't afford our paychecks anymore, and this is his way of feeling us out?"

"It's got to be a prelude to layoffs!"

"You got it. I was in his office with a proposal today, and layoffs were all he talked about. Looks like it's a done deal!"

...

A chill ran through me.

If they were cutting jobs, I could have cashed in on a sweet severance deal!

Could I still pull back my resignation? I wondered silently.

…

Too late or not, I found myself in Edmund's office.

I should not be thinking that, but the man was a looker.

Broad shoulders.

Narrow waist.

His backside...

Did not get a glimpse of it today.

However, from what I had seen before, it would probably feel nice to the touch.

"Ahem."

His cough snapped me back to the present.

"Need something?"

Edmund did not even glance up, just kept thumbing through his papers.

I buttered him up a bit, "Mr. Lynch, about the letter I submitted today, did you get a chance to look at it..."

"I did." His voice was cool, the words slipping out effortlessly.

I was on edge, but tried to keep it cool. "I was just thinking..."

"Thinking what?" He snapped the file shut and straightened the gold-rimmed glasses I had not noticed before.

He was quick to respond.

Obviously, I was thinking about pulling my resignation.

He would do the layoffs, and then I would walk away with a hefty severance check! Could I really be daydreaming about how rock-hard your abs are under that shirt, or how your backside seems to defy gravity in that chair?

What a ridiculous thought. I chided myself.

"Haven't I told you I'd think it over?" Edmund finally raised his eyes to mine, his look heavy with unspoken words. "Are you that desperate?"

"Yes!" The word flew out of my mouth.

I stepped closer, narrowing the space between us.

With earnest eyes, I drove the point home. "Mr. Lynch, I'm truly in a bind."

Edmund paused, a hint of red creeping up his ears. "Alright, I understand. I'll give it some more thought."

I softened my voice. "Mr. Lynch, there's no need to ponder anymore."

From that proximity, I caught the quick bob of Edmund's throat.

That infuriating allure.

"What now?"

His voice lifted, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I've changed my mind.

"That was just a silly thing I wrote, didn't mean to send it your way.

"I never meant any of it."

In a flash, his brow crinkled.

Just look at him.

He had dragged his feet on my request, followed me to the office, and still he talked of 'thinking it over.'

Then, as I talked about pulling back my resignation, the tension I had been carrying lifted.

If that wasn’t him being unwilling to let me go, then what was it?

What a shame, though.

Sure, working for him had been a breeze. The perks had been plenty, and he had been maddeningly handsome. That had been the highlight.

However, the problem was me.

Lately, I had been burning the midnight oil, writing away, and my health had taken a hit.

With what I made from my writing, I could already support myself.

So, I just wanted to quit and take some time to recover at home.