My alarm. I knew I was forgetting to do something last night. Focused on my anger toward Ian, I completely forgot to turn it on. I blame him. He knew he was pushing my buttons. He knew I would get upset. He probably even suspected that if he got me distracted enough, I would forget to set my alarm.

Well played, asshole.

The only thing he didn’t count on was his alarm going off just after six o’clock this morning, waking me up as well.

Hauling ass, I’m smiling at Helen a little over an hour later.

“Good morning, Miss Emerson,” she greets me as I step off the elevator. Before I can reply, she sits back down, disappearing from view.

“Is he here already?” I ask, rounding her desk and taking a seat on the corner, carefully tucking my skirt under my butt.

“He’s in with Mr. Dixon already.”

Looking down the hall toward Herman Dixon’s office, I find the door and blinds are both closed. Have the blinds ever been closed before? I don’t think they have since I’ve been here.

“I guess I’m going to grab a cup of coffee, then. Would you like one?” I ask Helen, bouncing off the edge of her desk as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. Who else would be here this early?

Looking over my shoulder, I watch as Hunter and Tyler Dixon walk off the elevator, engrossed in conversation. The two oldest Dixon brothers. Both turn and say hello to Helen. Hunter ignores me completely while Tyler smiles, giving me a wave as Hunter continues talking to him.

Hunter is the spitting image of his father. At least, what his father used to look like. There’s a wedding photo of Herman and Margaret Dixon in his office, on the edge of his desk. I accidentally knocked it over during my interview. Not my finest moment.

Just slightly over six feet tall, Hunter is the oldest of the three Dixon brothers. His jet-black hair is a complete contradiction of his light, sandy-brown eyes. He keeps his hair cut short, and he’s always dressed in a black suit with a stark white shirt. The only color he wears comes from his tie. Most of the time red or blue, but today it’s green.

The few times I’ve interacted with Hunter, he’s been nothing short of professional. His focus is work, building the company and their brand. He keeps everyone in line, on task, and moving forward. This includes his little brother Tyler.

Tyler Dixon, the middle child, is the wild card. His hair and eyes mirror Hunter’s in color and shape. A few inches shorter than his brother, he’s cut just as lean. It’s his hair that gives me the impression he writes is own rules from time to time. It grazes the tops of his shoulders when he doesn’t have it pulled back.

The wild side is what attracted Angela to him. She’s a bit of a wild child herself. Since moving home, I’ve talked to him maybe five times. Once outside of work, and that was only the third time we had ever met. He seems nice and genuine. You can tell he adores Angela and that’s really all that matters to me.

When it comes to work, he is the opposite of Hunter. He’s more casual, creating a relaxed work environment. Things still get accomplished; he just removes the pressure.

Watching Tyler and Hunter walk into their father’s office, it makes me wonder what their little brother will be like. Will he be a mix of the two or completely different? Casual yet demanding? Laid back or strictly professional at all times?

Does he look like their father as well or more like his mom? She’s a gorgeous woman. Sandy-brown hair and amazing vibrant blue eyes. I’m sure he’s going to be as attractive as the rest of his family. Hopefully not in a distracting way since I’ll be working for him directly.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to get us coffee?” Helen asks, poking me in the side.

“Coffee. Yeah. On my way,” I reply, my eyes still trained on Herman’s office door as I call the elevator.

Safely inside, I relax against the back wall and try not to let my imagination run wild with thoughts of my boss. I might hate him or hate working for him even if he is attractive. He could be rude and demanding. Or, he might be ugly as sin, the opposite of the rest of his family. The black sheep. That would be better, actually. Less distracting.

Why do I even care? This job is my opportunity to prove myself. That’s what I need to focus on. Not Ryder Dixon.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.

The line at the cafe in the lobby is long. It’s the magic hour. People are rushing to their offices to begin the workday. Even though there look to be five or six people working, it still takes me almost twenty-five minutes to get two coffees and make it back to the office.

When I return, Helen smiles at me apologetically as I hand her her cup.

“What?” I ask, pulling her coffee out of reach.

“You missed him again. He was asking for you too. I covered, told him I sent you on an errand. He’ll be back after lunch, but only for a minute. He left you a few things on your desk to keep you busy.”

“Seriously?” I ask, the defeat in my voice evident. He probably walked right past me when I was waiting for our order. I hand Helen her coffee. “Here. I should get started I guess. I don’t want to make a worse first impression than I already have.”

“I wouldn’t worry much about Mr. Ryder, Emerson. He’s focused on other things right now.”

Helen seems to know a lot. She talks to everyone, sees everything. She’s the hub of the office. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s already aware of what’s going on. If Allison knew, Helen probably heard about it first.

“Thanks, Helen,” I reply, pulling the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder.

A few things to work on. She should have said a towering stack. It’s leaning to one side so I carefully split it in two and get settled. I have meetings to schedule, artwork to upload, and marketing materials to package and send. The list is never ending.

Two weeks’ worth of work to catch up on in the next four hours.

Canceling my plans with Angela, I work straight through lunch in hopes I don’t miss Ryder again. I accomplish more than I thought possible. Aside from taking packages to the mail room, I’ve finished almost everything. His calendar is full for the next two weeks. I hope he doesn’t mind eating on the go because I barely left him a break for lunch some days.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the elevator doors slide open, and Helen stands to greet the visitor.

It’s him.

It has to be.

He towers over Helen as he pulls her in for a hug. If Hunter is tall, Ryder is a giant.

Turning toward me, our eyes meet, and I confirm that he’s a Dixon brother. Those eyes, light-sandy-brown in color. His hair is lighter, dark brown instead of black, gelled back in place, and looks long enough to run your fingers, maybe even grip onto, but cut cleanly above his ears.

Standing, I take in the full view.

His suit jacket is neatly folded over his arm, leaving him in only a white, button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled almost to his elbows. The shirt is either too small or he’s that defined because I can see the outline of his chest through the fabric as it stretches in an attempt to accommodate him.

I wondered if he would be a mix of his older brothers and now I don’t have to guess. He’s a happy medium, only sexier. Dangerously sexy. One look at him and my pulse is racing, my palms beginning to sweat. No wonder Ian didn’t want me working for him.

Ian.

Shit. I’m ogling my boss, noticeably, and I have a boyfriend. It’s not like I’m going to act on the sexual desires that are building as he walks closer to me, a sly grin on his face, causing a small dimple to appear on his left cheek.

Nope.

Can’t act on those needs.

That would be wrong.

For so many reasons.

“You must be Emerson,” he says, extending his hand as he approaches.

Wiping my hand down the front of my shirt to make sure I don’t have sweaty palms, I shake his hand and say “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dixon. You can call me Em.”

“And you can call me Ryder. Mr. Dixon is my father.”

Exactly like his brothers. They all want to be called by their first name. Even Hunter, which still surprises me. I guess it’s the only way to differentiate who you’re talking to or about with so many of them.

“Sure, Ryder.”

“Why don’t you come in my office and we can chat a bit. I have a meeting soon, but you already know that, don’t you?”

“That’s all you have this afternoon, sir,” I say, reaching behind me to pick up his calendar, knocking over the stack of boxes I need to take to the mail room in the process. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath and I crouch down to pick them up.

“Here,” Ryder says, handing me two boxes and pushing the others under my desk with his foot. “We can get those later.”

“Thanks.”

Pushing open the door to his office, he motions for me to follow him, a sympathetic smile on his face.

Great first impression, Emerson. Now he thinks you’re a klutz.

Straightening my shoulders, I walk past Ryder and into his office with my head held high. I’m sure he can see right through the facade. I’m not as confident as I’m trying to appear. In fact, I’m the exact opposite of confident. His mere presence has knocked me on my ass.

I wasn’t expecting to be attracted to him. Not that I expected him to be heinous, I’ve seen his brothers. He’s just… more. Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even begin to describe him. He has a magnetic pull to him. I want to get closer, to be closer, yet I can also see he’s dangerous. He probably rides the fine line between cautious and carefree, jumping across it depending on how he feels that day.

He’s sinful. In looks and mannerisms.

Like right now.

I’m openly staring at him from across his desk. He’s patiently waiting for me to say something, but the things on my mind right now shouldn’t be shared. Never out loud and especially not with him.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Emerson,” he says, his eyes shifting toward the chair next to me.

Slowly lowering myself, I tuck my shirt under my ass and pray that I don’t accidentally flash him. With how things are going so far, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Thank you for cleaning up my office, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“It was a nice surprise. Vacation was somewhat of a last-minute thing,” he explains, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “So, tell me about yourself,” he says, breaking eye contact.

“What would you like to know?” I ask, carefully selecting my words in an attempt to sound professional.

“Where are you from for starters?” he asks as he begins shuffling papers around on his desk, in search of something.

“This is my home. Born and raised in Sunnyside.”

“College?”

This is my chance to shine. My opportunity to show him that I’m qualified to be more than his executive assistant.

“I earned my Bachelor’s degree in Advertising from Michigan State University.”

Looking up, he squints his eye and studies me for a moment. What’s he thinking about, I wonder just as he resumes his paper shuffling.

“What brought you back to Sunnyside?”

This question. I knew it would come up. I’m going to sound like a lost little girl if I tell him the truth. A million lies have crossed my mind, but I’m not a liar. Never have been. Never plan to be. And I suck at it.

“My boyfriend was offered a job here, so we both moved back.”

That got his attention. Sitting up, he relaxes back into his chair and forms a temple with his fingers, studying me. He suddenly appears more comfortable than he’s been since meeting me.

“What does your boyfriend do?”

“He works in advertising as well.”

“For who?”

“Perregrine.”

“Ah, my favorite rival firm,” he replies, his signature dimple appearing alongside a devious grin. “Why not here? Did he apply?”

In lieu of an answer, or in this case a lie, I shrug my shoulders. My guess would be that he did, but I’m not sure either way. It’s been almost eighteen months since Ian was offered the job at Perregrine and a year since he started. I know he applied at a few other firms and there aren’t that many here in the city.

“Well, if he didn’t, he should have. How does he like it over there?”

“He’s happy.”

“And why aren’t you working for them?”

“Oh, I applied, but they didn’t have any positions available.”

“Where else did you apply?”

“A few places in Lansing before I moved back here.”

“And you decided that being an executive assistant was a better gig?”

His question catches me off guard. Is he judging me? I get that enough at home. I don’t need it from him too.

“No, it was my only option,” I reply, clearly irritated. “No one seems to be hiring at the moment.”

“What are your goals, then?” he asks, sitting up in his chair, my irritation with his line of questioning causing him to become uncomfortable.

“To move up. I’ll prove my worth to the company, and hopefully there will be a place for me here in the future.”

“I’m sure you will,” he replies, a knowing look on his face.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I notice the time. “You have an appointment in ten minutes. Is there anything I can get for you before it starts?”

“Always focused on work. That will benefit you, I promise. No, Emerson. That won’t be necessary. My lawyer is a bit of a prick, so I try not to be too nice to him. He tends to work faster so he doesn’t have to deal with me.”

His lawyer. Does that mean the rumors about the divorce are true as well? Probably, but no matter what, it’s none of my business. It doesn’t affect me one way or the other.

Letting myself out, I close the door behind me but not before sneaking one more glance at Ryder. That turns out to be a bad idea. He was watching me.