Falling for Her Boss

“That’s quite a combination,” Tessa managed to reply without giving away her amusement. “What’s your favorite part?”

“Pudding,” Poppy replied without hesitation.

“Mine probably will be, too,” Tessa confided.

The kitchen was homey, warm, filled with the quiet current of voices. Dorothy and Alvin stood by the sink, shoulders leaned in, touching. Just a simple gesture, but it told of a deep connection.

“Can I do anything to help?” Tessa offered.

Dorothy turned her head. “Everything’s already done. It’s nothing fancy, not like what you’re used to in the city.”

Tessa laughed without mirth. “I practically live on coffee when I’m working, so you’re right, this isn’t what I’m used to.” She sniffed the enticing aroma of freshly cooked fish, but she still couldn’t work up an appetite.

Four place settings were on the table. Dorothy inclined her head in their direction. “When we eat in the kitchen we keep it casual.”

Tessa interpreted that to mean when Morgan didn’t join them. She wondered if he ever got lonely eating on his own. Silly thought, she chastised herself. Men who ran entire companies didn’t lack for company.

Fresh iced tea filled the glasses and a large bowl of crisp salad sat beside the platter of fish. Local catfish, Alvin had informed her.

“Store-bought rolls,” Dorothy muttered. “Means I’m getting old. Never used to buy them, always made my own.”

“I like bakeries,” Tessa confessed. She used to love buying pastries on weekend mornings to share with Karl. Seemed ridiculous that she had believed all was fine in those days.

Alvin dried his hands. “Dorothy makes the best bread in the county. Won the blue ribbon for that and her cinnamon rolls five years straight at the county fair. But the town bakery’s okay. They bake fresh every day.”

Dorothy looked a tad embarrassed at the praise. “Poppy likes their cookies. They make all kinds of fancy cartoon shapes.”

“But Dorothy’s taste goodest,” Poppy declared. “And she lets me help.”

“You’re probably the best part,” Tessa told her as they shared a smile.

The back door opened and they all turned toward it. Morgan entered, his unguarded face weary.

“Daddy!” Poppy exclaimed happily.

For a moment pure love eclipsed the fatigue in Morgan’s face. “Hey, you.”

Hopping down, she ran to him, visibly delighted when he swept her up and nuzzled her cheek. “How’s my girl?”

“Hungry,” she replied cheerfully. Then she leaned even closer. “And we’re having pudding,” she added in a loud whisper.

He pretended delighted surprise. “But what will we have for dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy!” She giggled and he swung her up again.

Morgan looked reluctant when he set her back down.

But Poppy immediately tugged at his hand, chasing away any possibility of escape. “You have to sit by me.”

Just then he looked up, seeming to notice Tessa for the first time. Unconsciously she straightened, then smiled tentatively.

His gaze gave nothing away and she couldn’t tell if he was displeased by her presence. No one had mentioned whether she would be taking her lunches with the family. Dorothy had insisted the first day and she had continued coming to the kitchen for lunch, but now Tessa wondered if she was intruding. Standing, she pushed back her chair.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asked.

“Well, you’re here now and I know Poppy wants to sit with you and—”

“There’s plenty of room and from what I hear, plenty of pudding.” He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plate. Dorothy had already collected another setting of silverware.

“You can sit by Daddy, too,” Poppy informed her. “I get to sit on this side.” The child indicated her favorite spot.

Tessa felt like the last pickling cucumber being shoved into an overstuffed jar. Not that the table was small, but it had already been set up to serve four. An extra setting put it out of balance. The thought barely formed when Poppy tugged Morgan to the middle seat between herself and Tessa.

Proximity immediately changed. Tiny Poppy hadn’t taken up much space in her chair. But Morgan, tall with broad shoulders, filled the area. Tessa hugged her elbows to her sides, trying to minimize contact. Instead of making her less visible, her tactic caused Morgan to glance her way. Feeling like a fool, she straightened again, accidentally brushing her arm against his. Startled, she almost withdrew, reconsidered and tried to look unaffected. Glancing across the table at Dorothy and Alvin, Tessa immediately saw from their expressions that she had failed miserably.

“Pudding?” Morgan asked, extending the salad bowl. He leaned close, his voice low. “Poppy has decreed all courses include pudding.”

“I...I love pudding.” Tessa sought to make her voice sound bright as she reached for the tongs.

He looked at the tiny serving she scooped out and frowned. “Not your favorite flavor?”

“I want to save room for all the courses,” she improvised, knowing she wouldn’t finish even the small amount of food she would put on her plate.

To her relief, Morgan didn’t pursue it, instead turning to his daughter. “Extra olives?”

“Yes, please.”

He carefully plucked a generous helping of black olives from the bowl along with a portion of the greens and tomatoes. Tessa guessed Dorothy had loaded the salad with Poppy’s favorites.

She wasn’t sure how or why, but Morgan’s presence had changed the entire dynamic of their little gathering. Poppy was aglow, her connection to Morgan deep and visible. Alvin and Dorothy seemed more content somehow. And she...she wasn’t sure what she was. It was no longer easy and light. Tessa realized she was being silly, that she had eaten more business lunches with employers than she could count. No need to be nervous.

“Daddy, you promised to take me to ride Cornflake,” Poppy pleaded.

Morgan paused, his fork midair. “Today?”

The child’s head bobbed up and down as though attached to a string.

Tessa was tempted to offer to cover for him for the afternoon if he needed the time with his daughter, but she wasn’t sure how the gesture would be taken. And, in truth, she didn’t know enough about Harper Petroleum to cover for him.

Morgan glanced her way. “Cornflake is Poppy’s pony.”

“Ah,” she replied, picturing the cute child on an equally cute pony.

“All work and no play,” Dorothy mused, passing the platter of fish.

The forces had gathered. Graciously, Morgan bowed to them. “After lunch. That doesn’t mean we skip the fish, either.”

Poppy’s face crinkled, her plan apparently quashed.