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Chapter Eight

Liam

“So Elisabetta, tell me what you like to do for fun.” She blinks at me as we walk down the street. “Did you not hear me?” I ask her, looking over at her slowly.

“I heard you, but this isn’t a date,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Why should I tell you what I like to do for fun?”

“Maybe because I'm trying to get to know you better as someone who’s your boss.”

“Um, I may not have worked before, but I don't think bosses generally care what their employees do, but who knows? Maybe I just don’t understand the working world like you do.” She pauses. “Tell me, Liam.”

“Yes?” I say, thinking she’s going to ask me what I like to do for fun.

“What do your other employees like to do for fun?” she says, and I start laughing because she’s right.

“I never inquired about any of my other employees’ extracurricular activities because, frankly, I don't really care.

“You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Make what easy on you?” She shakes her head. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”

“We’re going to go to a place I call The Watermelon Hole.”

“The Watermelon Hole?” She looks confused. “Why have I never heard of it before?”

“Maybe because you don’t like watermelon?”

“I love watermelon. What is that, like a watermelon bar?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Have you ever heard of a watermelon bar before?”

“No, I haven’t, but I've never heard of this place. Why would it be called The Watermelon Hole if it doesn’t have something to do with watermelons?”

“Well, wouldn’t you just like to know?”

She rolls her eyes.

“So, Liam.”

“Yes?”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

I cackle then."I like to make love and?—”

“Oh, my gosh. Can we have one conversation that isn’t dominated by sexual talk?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a conversation with me that wasn’t dominated by sexual talk,” I say.

“Well, I do. I mean, yeah, you think you’re cute, and yeah, I know I’m cute, but if this”—she waves her hands back and forth—“working relationship is to work at all, then we need to have some common ground, and that common ground is not going to be how many words per minute I write, and it's not going to be when or if we actually do the dirty.”

“Well, okay, then. I like to read,” I say, surprising myself because I don't normally tell people that.

“You do?” She looks surprised.

“I do.”

“What do you like to read? Oh, wait, don’t tell me… steamy romance?” I stare at her for a couple of seconds, and she burstsout laughing. “Okay, I'm joking. I don't actually think you read steamy romance, but I have heard that it helps guys like you.”