Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

Fucking Aye.

When she moves away, I hold her closer. She tucks her face into my chest, pale blue eyes riled, looking up at me.

She’s so fragile, and she’s counting on me. That’s the only earthly reason I’m able to rip myself away.

“Are you tired?” I whisper.

“No.”

“Grab your coat. We’ll sit outside on the balcony.”

I grab a blanket from the hall closet while she walks away. When we go outside, I crank up the fire pit against the morning chill.

We sit on the couch in front of the leaping fire and I spread the blanket over us.

“What’s the plan?” she asks. “Besides revealing you’re a total sweetheart with kids?”

I snort. “We’ll sit out here and talk until you’re tired.”

“And if I never get tired?”

“I’ll sit out here and talk to you until we watch the sunrise.”

She pulls my arm around her, brushing her hair against me.

“I’m cold. Keep me warm,” she pleads.

“Temptress,” I grind out, tugging her closer.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever watched a sunrise intentionally before,” she says, smiling at me.

I level a stare at her. “If you’ve never watched a sunrise, then you haven’t had a good enough reason to stay up all night.”

She smiles back. “That could change.”

I like that idea.

“I heard what you told Millie.”

“I just hope it sinks in,” I say, raking my beard against the top of her head. “She was afraid people would think she’s bad because her mom made a mistake.”

“What? That’s terrible. I’ll have to make sure she understands it’s not her fault, but I liked what you told her. What happens after mistakes is what matters.”

“Right.”

“Do you believe it?” She turns her eyes up in question. “Because I think you could benefit from that advice.”

Her words echo my own thoughts from earlier.

“Are you and Roland Osprey friends?” she whispers.

“What? Fuck no,” I growl back, hating to have that asshole’s name caught in our moment.

“Are you close to any of the half-wits who read his blog?”

“A lot of employees read that blog, unfortunately. And not all of them are stupid,” I say with a sigh.

“Well, if it’s anyone you’re not personally acquainted with, they need you. You don’t need them. The people who make the decisions that run the company are in your suite.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We rely on a lot of talent to keep things going,” I tell her. “What are you saying?”

“The people who matter in your life know you—the real you, Nick. They don’t care what the Tea says. You made mistakes. Everyone does. Guess what?” She pauses. “The other things you do matter. When your grandma got sick, you were there for her every day, sometimes more than Ward.”

“To be fair, he ran half the company and managed the Winthrope deal the most. He also had the added complication of faking an engagement...” I chuckle at the memory.

“Yeah. That was a mistake. I thought Paige was going to rip his head off.”

“Was it?” I challenge. “He didn’t lie to her. She knew what she was getting into.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

“Either way, I bet they both wish he’d handled it a little better.”

“What difference does it make? They got their happily ever after,” I say.

She looks up, a pointed light in those baby-blue eyes. “Exactly. So what difference do your fake dates and internet scandals make? You can still be happy. Ward may have had a lot on his plate, but somebody needed to be with Beatrice while she was recovering, and more often than not it was you. You sign fat bonuses anytime you hear about an employee with a problem—”

“How did you know that?” I ask, cutting in.

She pulls the blanket closer to her chin and squeezes in closer to me. “It’s cold.”

“We can go inside.” I hug her tighter, trying to keep her warm.

“No, this is wonderful. Also, people talk.”

“Huh?” I blink at her.

“I’ve been in the break room and heard people talking about how you made sure this person or that got an extra bonus after pulling through whatever crisis.” She pauses and smiles with all the warmth I need tonight. “Everyone knows it’s you. Ward’s too aloof to be that good with people, and Paige isn’t in the office enough anymore to tip him off.”

“He doesn’t object when he looks over accounting. He’d do it if he knew,” I tell her.

“But you know. It’s okay that you’re not perfect. You have a good heart.”

I wish it was all that easy.

“You should be a shrink,” I tell her.

“No way. I’ll stick with driving. When do I get to take the Maserati for a spin?”

I bring my hands to her face, gingerly tilting her head back until we’re eye to eye.

“It’s Saturday now. Later today, if you want.”

“Oh, crap. I didn’t realize it was already tomorrow.”

We settle into the twilight hours, her head on my chest, my arms firmly fixed around her. Every now and then, I run my fingers through her silky hair, trying to ignore how good it would feel to take it in a lust-driven fist.