My (Mostly) Secret Baby: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy(8)

I pushed off the wall and walked a circle with my hands on my hips. She had no idea how much money was at stake in there. She had no idea how much thought I’d put into this transition in my brother’s career—and by extension, my career. “I want you out of my life.”

“In that case, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

I shook my head, pointing to the security that was finally coming down the hall. “No. You probably shouldn’t. Why don’t you go back to being irrelevant?”

I knew I had to be imagining things, but her eyes looked almost watery. She licked her lips, paused, then nodded. “Suit yourself. I hope you have a horrible life, cockmuncher.”

I scrunched my eyebrows together. Where the hell did this woman come from? I almost wondered if my brother had fed information to her on how to most efficiently get under my skin.

Security took her by the arms and led her away, but not before she could shout one last thing over her shoulder to me. “You’re not even that hot. You have chicken wing shoulder blades!”

I let out a long sigh through my nose, but before I stepped back into the conference room, I tried to adjust my posture. Chicken wing shoulder blades? What the fuck did that even mean?

It didn’t matter. By tomorrow, I’d forget all about Chelsea Cross and her brief but fiery interruption of my life. That’s all she was. Like an asteroid burning up in the atmosphere before it could touch ground. Distracting, bright, oddly fascinating to look at, but ultimately meaningless.





Chelsea





Five Years Later





Somebody once told me to make a list of the things I’d give up my life for. Take a look at that list, they said, and you’d have your compass to live by. You’d know exactly what you valued. What was worth giving everything up for.

Call me a bad child if you wanted, but I wouldn’t die for my parents without question. Would I risk my life to save them? Sure. Would I take a bullet for them? Sure. Maybe even two bullets if they were a low caliber.

My dad might only get one bullet from me, because I swore when I was fifteen, I’d never forgive him for smashing my phone. Call me a woman of my word.

But there was something in my life I’d die for without question. That little something was currently snarling at me from the backseat of my car.

I tipped my rearview while we waited at a red light so I could see her. She had dark hair and the most stunning blue eyes I’d ever seen. She was quick with a smile and just as quick with her temper.

“I’m gonna knock you out, momma.”

I quirked an eyebrow into the mirror. “I’d like to see that, considering you’re strapped into a carseat. Tough guy.”

She curled her lip and made a fierce show of struggling against her harness. “For now.”

I choked on my water, laughing. “Who even are you?”

She snarled again. “A monster. A big one.”

I may have been stuck in traffic. I may have been struggling to keep a roof over our heads. I may have been trying and failing to do the whole single mom thing with grace. But it was the little moments that reminded me why she was worth everything.

That was Luna. She was the only thing on my list. The little package I’d close my eyes and step off the roof for without an ounce of regret.

In a lot of ways, I guess I’d already sacrificed one part of my life for her. Deciding to keep her had been one of the harder decisions of my life, and it had certainly cost me. It cost me my budding tennis career. It cost me relationships, namely with my parents, who thought I shouldn’t keep a kid when the dad wasn’t in the picture.

It had also cost me a few tough lessons. When she was born, I’d made the mistake of thinking I could still date men like I used to. It only took a few bad experiences to show me that I wasn’t just dating for me anymore. I was dating for both of us. I couldn’t settle for the bad boy with a disregard for authority anymore. I couldn’t enjoy a few months with the hot mess that doesn’t have his life together but makes me smile.

I needed responsible. I needed good. I needed stability, and so far, that was about as likely as finding a bra I didn’t want to strip off and light up with a machine gun by the end of my day.

I pulled up to my brother’s apartment. I parked on the street and bent to get Luna out of her carseat, except she’d apparently figured out how to do that herself. She curled her little fingers, hissed, and swiped at me. I barely dodged in time, laughing. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Uncle Grant taught me.” She wiggled her eyebrows like she was the coolest person on the planet. “I’m bodini.”

I grinned. “Houdini. And yes, you are.”

My brother ambled down the steps of his stoop, tickling my sides from behind. I straightened and made an undignified sound, then turned to swing at him. He easily bobbed and weaved my attempts, then play slapped me on the side of the head before pulling me in for a hug.

Before his life went off the rails, Grant was on track to be a mixed martial artist. But one thing led to another, and now we found ourselves here. He wasn’t the buff, athletic older brother I’d grown up knowing. Now he was thin as a rail and gaunt in the cheeks with pink rims around his eyes.

I still trusted him with Luna. Grant was only a danger to himself, and he’d always been fiercely loyal to everyone he loved.