My (Mostly) Secret Baby: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy(57)



“My bank account will survive. Thanks for the concern. And you, Tia. You’re sure you want to team up with her? She’s more worried about screwing me over than how this turns out for you.”

Tia shrugged. “Maybe next time you’ll be a little smarter when one of your athletes needs a little special attention.”

I sighed. So it was about that? I knew I could go to Trevor and try to prepare him for whatever bullshit Trish and Tia were about to throw his way. Instead, I took Chelsea’s hand and led her toward the large house. I’d planned a date, and I didn’t intend for Trish or Tia to ruin that.

Chelsea looked back as I pulled her away. “That’s all? Aren’t we going to throw down or something?”

“No. They’re not worth it.”

“Is she right, though? Can you afford to lose both Tia and Trevor?”

“So long as Chris keeps his head out of his ass? Yes.”

We headed toward the large house in silence until Chelsea finally spoke. “It’s going to be hard to top that,” she said. “I mean, the surprise appearance from the two wicked bitches of the west was a twist I didn’t see coming. So far, we’ve had sports and drama. What else do you have planned to round out the evening, Mr. Rose?”

I chuckled. She had such a sexy way of saying ‘Mr. Rose,’ and I was almost certain she knew it. “Winning clients is about winning confidence. Start with the heavy guns. It loosens them up and they’ll be more open to persuasion.”

She gave me a funny look. “And what do you do if the agent trying to persuade you is trying to keep you at arm’s length?”

I stopped. We were just outside the front porch of the mansion with giant oak double doors to our side. “Arm’s length?” I wrapped my hand around her waist and pulled her close to me. “If you mean like this…”

“No,” she said, pulling back. “I mean how I feel like I need to know the whole story with this Trish woman. I feel like there’s more than you’re letting on. And I mean, yeah. I’m attracted to you. Yeah, you gave me an awesome job. Yeah, I appreciate everything. But you. I need to know the real you.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what happened with you two.”

“It was complicated.”

“That’s not good enough. I know she screwed you over. She stole your clients. Broke your heart, probably. But I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, and there can’t be any more secrets.”

I walked to a swinging bench and sat down. Chelsea moved beside me, sitting cross legged and turning so she could face me. I heard the laughter of the tennis players and their coaches as they were apparently being charmed by Trish in the distance.

I’d hoped to skip this part. Maybe forever. But Chelsea was right. We couldn’t make a functional relationship on the fact that we liked to sleep together. For me, I didn’t really need to know anything else about her. I knew there were dark corners I’d discover someday—little secrets and fun facts. But I also knew how I felt when I was around her and how different it was than being around anyone else.

“Trish and I weren’t just together. We actually got married. Five years ago. It was the kind where we went to the altar in plain clothes and signed some papers afterwards. I’d been trying to fill a void for so long that she came along and I guess—” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I guess I thought love was the sort of thing you had to build from scratch, like a business.”

“You married her? Wait, you said this was five years ago. How long after we…”

“A month, maybe two.”

Chelsea paused. “What void were you trying to fill, exactly?”

“The one that opened up after you walked out of my life.”

It was true, too. I’d been too stupid to see it at the time, but it was so true it stung. It had always been Chelsea, and I’d burned myself a hundred times trying to find a way to replace the way she’d made me feel.

“You hated me,” she said.

“No. I wanted to hate you. I didn’t want to need anyone or anything. Then you fucked that up, didn’t you?”

Chelsea looked up in thought. “I guess while we’re confessing, I should confess that I thought you were a grumpy, unforgivable asshole from the moment I met you. And I wanted to die when I realized I was going to apply to work for you. And I may have wished once or twice that a lightning bolt would strike you dead while you were on the toilet.”

I frowned. “These aren’t the kinds of confessions I was hoping for.”

“But,” Chelsea said, holding up her index finger. “I also used to tease the boys I liked in school. And I maintained that cooties should’ve been classified as a deadly virus by the CDC until late middle school. So I guess what I’m saying is that you can’t always trust what I say or do when it comes to my feelings.”

“What can I trust, then?”

She gnawed on the inside of her lip, staring down at her hands in her lap. “The fact that I’m here. With you. That my heart is pounding, and my body feels alive. I want this, Damon. Whatever it is. I want it.”

I cupped her cheek, pulling her toward me for a kiss.

I wasn’t the sentimental type, but I discreetly made sure I remembered every fucking sensation I was feeling. I memorized the soft warmth of her cheek against my palm. I focused on the velvety touch of her wet lips and the heat of her tongue. I listened to the insects chittering and the leaves of the trees rustling over our heads. And I thought about how inside—deep inside my chest—there was a void that I’d never quite managed to plug up. Except right now, with my hands on Chelsea, I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even find a trace.

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