The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(23)

Her smile seemed to say you’ll see. “Well, have a good weekend with your brick wall.”

“Give Mateo kisses from Auntie Cam,” I said.

“I will.”

Brandy left and I turned my attention back to my computer. My stomach rumbled—when had I last eaten?—but I needed to check a few more things off my list before I went home. Thankfully I had Nicholas’s cooking to look forward to when I got there. Fridays were one of his days off, but he meal-prepped for me, so there was always something ready to go.

A message popped up on the corner of my screen.

Jude: Check in. Departure time?

Me: Not much longer. Do you have plans tonight?

Jude: Just walking you to your car.

Me: I meant after that.

Jude: No.

Funny, my ass. But now I was curious. What did Jude Ellis do on his own time?

Me: What about this weekend?

Jude: I keep my schedule clear when I have a client.

Me: That sounds like a pain. No wonder you keep trying to retire.

Jude: The hours are terrible.

Okay, maybe a little bit funny.

Me: I won’t be long.

Jude: Take your time.





Eight o’clock Saturday morning and I’d already had two cups of coffee, been tortured by Inda in my home gym, reviewed data from R&D, and answered thirty-two emails. Sleeping in didn’t exist in my world.

Except when the girls and I declared a Fuck-It Friday, cleared our schedules for twenty-four hours, shut ourselves in one of our houses, and gorged on terrible-for-you food and booze until we passed out. Although it had been a long time since we’d done that. Our lives seemed to keep getting busier and busier.

Feeling restless, I got up from my desk and wandered over to the window. My home office overlooked part of Bluewater. Palm trees. Bright green vegetation and colorful flowers. Someone was driving a golf cart along a trail—it was the preferred method of transportation in Bluewater—and a small plane took off from the airfield in the distance.

I could see Emily’s house and I wondered if she and Derek were enjoying a lazy Saturday morning together. They were probably dressed in matching bathrobes, feeding each other bites of breakfast out on the terrace.

It was possible I was a tiny bit jealous of my friend.

Not in a destructive, make-me-bitter-and-ruin-our-friendship way. I was beyond happy for her. But my no-longer-single friend reminded me of how single I was.

My phone buzzed, so I went back to my desk and checked. Another message from Noelle. She was upset about the financials. With a heavy sigh, I sat back down. That woman questioned everything I did. I wasted so much time typing diplomatic replies to her semi-aggressive emails. But I knew if I wasn’t careful with every word, she’d find a way to use them against me.

Half an hour later, I hit send on what I hoped was a sufficiently mollifying email. Not ten seconds later, my phone vibrated again, buzzing against the surface of my desk. I was almost afraid to look, but thankfully it wasn’t an instant angry reply from Noelle.

Brandy: How many hours have you worked today?

Me: Why are you checking up on me?

Brandy: Because you need a day off.

Me: Since when is nagging me about my schedule on a Saturday in your job description?

Brandy: Stop replying with questions. There’s nothing pressing on your calendar and it’s been a while since that happened. Get out of your office and go do something.

Me: I have a lot of work to do.

Brandy: It can wait.

Me: Why am I arguing with you?

Brandy: Because you’re stubborn. You know you need to get out of the house. Just call him. It’s his job.

I sighed. Brandy knew me too well. It made her amazing at her job, but she also had a knack for calling me out.

I did want to get out of the house—out of Bluewater. I was unsettled and I knew exactly what that feeling meant. I’d been working too much. For nearly three years, my relationship with Aldrich had provided a natural defense against burnout. Dating him had forced me to have a life outside the office.

Of course, he hadn’t respected the fact that my job was just as important as his. But that was another issue. And one of the reasons we were no longer together.

Since our breakup, I’d focused the vast majority of my time and energy on work—even more than usual. Six months of that and I was starting to feel the effects. Add to that the usual aggravation of dealing with Noelle, plus the parking garage incident, and I was like a rubber band being pulled too tight.

But now I felt a bit like a kid who’d been grounded. I knew it was irrational. No one was keeping me from leaving my house. But it irritated me that I couldn’t just go somewhere on a whim. Get in my car and go shopping by myself for a few hours.

Although, when was the last time I’d actually done that? I had a personal shopper because I was always too busy. And she was fabulous. But damn it, I wanted to go try on some shoes in a store.

Me: Fine, you’re probably right. But don’t get cocky about it.

Brandy sent a gif of a rooster strutting down a sidewalk.

I pulled up Jude’s number and sent him a text.

Me: I’m leaving the enclave and could use a big guy who doesn’t talk much to follow me around. Know anyone?

Jude: I have a guy for that. He’s good.

Okay fine, he was funny.

Me: Meet me at my house in an hour?