Page 57 of The Boss I Can't Stand

“That was fast,” Sierra said, rushing to answer it, clearly hungrier than she was letting on. I followed her to the door, finding not only a dining cart but also the bag with the clothes and toiletries I’d requested Brenna track down earlier.

“What’s all that?” Sierra asked as I plopped it down on the bed.

“I had Brenna gather the essentials from the condo when she stopped by to feed Lord Meowington.”

“Oh, thank God!” Sierra said, unzipping the bag to find the pair of sweats she liked to wear as pajamas. “I love that woman! She needs a raise.”

“I pay her very well,” I assured her, collecting my own things from the bag.

“Pay her more,” Sierra said, hugging the sweats to her chest. “For these. And for dealing with your grumpy cat.”

“He’s not grumpy.”

“He takes after his father.”

I rolled my eyes but understood her reaction to the simple home comforts. I certainly had no desire to sleep in my suit. I checked my watch. The fabric could be expected anytime. Was there even a point in going to sleep? We’d have to get up again frustratingly soon. But I supposed even an hour of rest was better than nothing.

Sierra poked around at the dining cart while I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Umm…”

“What’s wrong?” I turned around to find her standing behind two steaming plates of macaroni.

“I think they forgot the salmon.”

I swallowed down my groan. If I’d had the energy to be more frustrated, I would have called down to the front desk and lectured them at great length on the incompetence of not being able to take a simple order, but the truth was, Ididn’thave the energy for that.

“Will you survive without all your omega-3 fatty acids?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” I quipped. “Especially if Shaw keeps throwing costumes into the washer.”

“She felt awful about it,” Sierra said.

“I know. I thought she was going to have a breakdown, and that’s the last thing I need.” Seeing Shaw crouched down by the washer in tears, I’d had momentary flashbacks to my mother—younger, distraught, inconsolable.

And that was perhaps why I hadn’t completely lost my temper in the moment. Even though the image had been like stepping back into the past, one thing that past-me and present-me had in common was the ability to jump straight into damage control mode.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine by the time she shows up to set today,” Sierra said. “I think it was just a shock.”

“To all of us.” I picked up my fork and sampled a bite of the pasta.

“Well?” Sierra asked, already on her third bite.

“It’s not…horrible.”

She smirked. “That’s what you get for trying to be all healthy in the middle of the night. Sometimes the universe knows you need some good old-fashioned comfort food.”

“Real comfort food would have been grilled cheese and tomato soup,” I said. Sierra tilted her head, clearly waiting for me to explain.

“Growing up, my younger brother Connor did a lot of the cooking. Grilled cheese was the first thing he mastered. So we had alotof grilled cheese.”

I cleared my throat, plowing on before she could ask questions about that. “Anyway, I should have ordered us both salmon to combat all the RevX you drink.”

She hummed, half-amused. “I think I overdid it tonight. Feels like my blood is buzzing.”

“I’m going to wean you off of those,” I said seriously.

She smirked. “You can pry RevX from my cold, dead hands.”

I snorted. “I’d prefer not. Death by energy drink is not a story I want to have to sell to the tabloids.”