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I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that.
Honest, I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

Grayson Richmond needs some positivity.
Have you seen how grumpy he is?
Disgustingly wealthy and unfairly hot, the man wears an arrogant snarl almost as well as he wears a suit.
Drool!

The word tyrant doesn’t do him justice, though, when he has me dragged into his office to be reprimanded.
Just FYI, the exact wrong thing to do in that situation is to tell him you’re the one who’s been leaving notes of positive affirmation in his underwear drawer.
As the lowly assistant of the assistant to the secretary of Mr. Grumpy Pants himself, what else do you expect me to do while I’m in his swanky penthouse dropping off the dry cleaning and rehoming Grayson’s food?

No, I am not making a mockery of this company or of him. Believe me, my credit card debt and I are very happy to have this job.
And to have a chance to sprinkle a little joy in Grayson’s life.