Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

“Hi, Mrs. G. We didn’t mean to upset Millie. We thought you’d be upstairs and didn’t know who was in Abby’s apartment, so we just...took precautions?” I flash her an awkward smile.

“Oh, hi there, hon. About time. I’ve been waiting to hear from somebody. After those boys with badges pawed through the place for a few hours, I had to make sure it was still in one piece. Plus, the baby has all of her toys here. Is Abby all right?”

I tense, feeling whacked between the eyes with the question.

“She’s fine! It’s a crazy mix-up, that’s all. I mean...they didn’t find anything, did they?” I force the world’s most awkward smile. The less said, the better.

Mrs. Gamlin shakes her head.

Relief whooshes out my lungs.

“Well, thanks for watching Millie. Abby called and uh, I’ll take it from here.” I’m butchering this, but I just want to get the kid and go.

Mrs. Gamlin makes no effort to unblock Abby’s doorway. “Not to be nosy, but where is Abby?”

Millie shuffles up to the door behind her.

“Mrs. Gamwin, Lalaloopsey no play!” Then the bumblebee moves her face, spots me, and leaps onto my leg. “Auntie Reese!”

I scoop her up in my arms. There’s no way I can answer Mrs. Gamlin’s question about Abby now. I’m not scarring Millie for life with a crying fit.

I take my sweet time bouncing her against my chest, while Nick looks on warmly and Gamlin stares impatiently.

“Something came up,” I say. “Last-minute temp job like you know she gets sometimes. Abby won’t be home tonight,” I tell Mrs. Gamlin, hoping like hell it works.

“Ah, finally back to work! That’s good news because she’s a week overdue on rent, and after these cops showed up, I was starting to wonder. I’m not trying to be a b—” She stops and looks at Millie, then softens her voice. “Witch, dear, but I do need groceries. Social Security checks don’t cut it.”

Great. Now I have to deal with this, too.

Nick pulls out his wallet. “How much does she owe?”

“Two fifty even,” Mrs. Gamlin says quickly.

“Nick, no!” I protest.

He takes out several crisp bills and hands them to Mrs. Gamlin. “Here’s three hundred. Thanks for all your trouble.”

The woman raises both eyebrows high and whistles. Then she gives him a head-to-toe eye-scraping. “Thank you, young man. You need me to babysit again, honey, you know where I am.” She clasps the money in her fist and walks out of Abby’s apartment, beaming like the sun.

Yep. This is my life.

I’m desperate, scared, and indebted to my boss, and I sure as hell don’t want to be.

“Take it from my next paycheck,” I whisper.

“Hmm.” He strokes his chin, considering my request, and then turns those emerald eyes on me like knives. “No.”

His follow-up glare says this is not the time.

Ugh.

Too tired to argue back, I carry Millie into the apartment. Nick follows us in.

“Since you’re so big on favors tonight, could you take the car back to the office for me? I’ll have to stay here with Millie until I figure out what’s happening.”

His eyes dart to the broken window covered in aluminum foil. Maintenance was supposed to fix it weeks ago.

“Here? I’m not liking that idea,” he rumbles, his face tightening as he scans the shoebox living room.

For some ungodly reason, I put my hands on his shoulders. “Look, I know what this looks like. This tiny run-down apartment isn’t your style, but it’s plenty safe. Go enjoy your penthouse.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he growls, clearing his throat. “If you need a place to stay for the night—”

“Stop,” I cut in. No freaking way is he putting us up in some fancy hotel. “Fine. I’ll soothe your worries, gather up her things, and take her to my place.”

Not that the Chateau Reese is a huge improvement over Abby’s digs, but I keep that to myself. I’m trying to compromise.

“You could let me help,” he says, as if I’m oblivious.

I smile when I really want to flip him off.

“In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been letting you help. You’ve gone above and beyond tonight, boss. I’ll always appreciate it, but...I can take it from here.”

He nods, bends down, and picks up a book from the floor. It’s There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.

“You a big reader, Millie?” he asks, the familiar Brandt boy charm polishing his voice.

She looks at Nick shyly and gives him a crooked smile.

“Uh-huh, mister.” Then she turns to me. “We spending the night, Auntie Reese?”

“Sure are, bumblebee,” I say.

Her smile slips. Then comes the question I’ve been dreading.

“Where’s Mommy?”

“Working! Late-night job,” I try to say cheerfully. “She’s out making money so she can get you more toys.”

“You smile funny, Auntie Reese.” Millie smiles, showing a dimple in each cheek.

Damn. Nothing about this is easy.

Nick chuckles, covering his face with his hand to hide it. Not fast enough.