Pregnant By My Boss

“Of course.” Honestly, there’s nothing I’d rather do less than go out to where Trent is, but I can’t not help out when I came here tonight to do just that.

I grab an empty tray and hoist it onto my shoulder. I worked my way through college as a waitress, and this isn’t the first time I’ve assisted my staff with cleanup. Lizzy’s right—getting the cleanup done quickly means getting home earlier. No one want to stay at a venue longer than necessary.

Unless they happen to be naked in bed with the best lover they’ve ever had.

I shake the thought from my head and scurry into the kitchen. Our cleanup strategy is always to take the furthest tables first and work our way toward the middle. I find the table farthest from the kitchen that has yet to be cleared and start loading my tray with empty plates, bowls, and glasses. Once I’ve stacked the entire table’s worth of dirty dishes onto my tray, I lift it back onto my shoulder and walk carefully to the kitchen.

This action is repeated six more times without incident. I’m a little out of shape, not having done any heavy lifting beyond taking Trentie out of his crib for the last several months. Even so, I’m able to keep up with the other members of my crew. I’m running mostly on adrenaline and the excitement of getting home to kiss my son’s little head.

I glance at my watch on my way to my next table and bump into someone. Immediately, I look up to apologize to the guest. “I’m so sor—” I freeze, finding myself face to face with Trent Moore.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says coolly. His handsome face has barely changed since the last time I saw him over a year ago. The only difference is that he doesn’t have stubble tonight, which makes him actually look younger, but just as hot. I want to run my hands down his clean-shaven jaw and kiss that smirk off his face, but resist the urge.

“I’m busy,” I tell him, forcing my voice to stay calm. “We need to get this cleaned up quickly so we can get out of here.”

I start to grab a plate, but Trent places a gentle hand on mine, and I hate that his touch sends thrills down my spine. “It can wait, or your staff can handle this.”

“I don’t want to speak to you,” I tell him, trying to curb my anger.

“Well, I think I deserve an explanation.”

“Explanation?” My voice is quiet. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. I look up at him and I see the same anger in his eyes that I feel right now. “Why the hell would you deserve an explanation, you self-centered, big-headed, asshole!”

Luckily, there are no guests left in the room to hear my outburst. My employees are staring at me though, frozen in shock and awkwardness. They’ve never seen me like this before. I take a deep breath and shoot them a fake smile.

“Nothing to see here, guys. Sorry about that outburst.”

It takes a few seconds, but they get back to their respective jobs in silence. I sense their eyes still firmly on me as they clean up the tables, but at least they’re moving now. I look back at Trent, who’s staring at me, those blue eyes ripping me apart. I don’t let him in. If I do, I know I’ll crumble and fall to pieces.

“I need to work,” I tell him calmly. “Please leave. You don’t need to be here for the cleanup. Your guests are gone, and you’re free to go.”

Trent barks a bitter laugh. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I repeat, not letting him get to me.

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but I’d like to know why.”

I stare at him, now intrigued. Is he trying to say it’s my fault we haven’t been in touch since our amazing encounter? He’s even more of an asshole than I thought. For the first time, I’m glad he doesn’t know we have a child together.

“Please leave, Trent.”

“Not until we talk,” he says, his voice harsh. I meet his eyes and see something there. Confusion. Fear. Lust. I see the same things in myself when I look in the mirror, thinking of him.

As much as I hate it, my resistance fades away. Curiosity and a morbid desire to end up in Trent’s bed again lead me to my decision.

“Fine,” I say, resigned. “Let’s talk. But not here.”

I walk ahead of him despite his long strides, leading us to the entryway of the venue. We stop in the hallway, out of earshot from my employees, and away from anyone else who might listen in on our conversation. This is a conversation I don’t want another soul to hear.