Misbehaving Curves: A Boss Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  Ah, so he was going for straight up denial. Got it. “Lies? What exactly did I lie about?”

  “I don’t have a sister. We don’t have a sister.” And they didn’t have use for one, based on his angry tone.

  “Half-sister would be accurate, yes. It’s the truth, whether you accept it or not.” Rejection was bad enough, but to be called a liar on top of it was just insulting.

  “Liar!” Nate’s deep voice roared in anger and there was nowhere else for me to go so I turned and picked up the pizza, determined not to let fear get the better of me.

  It was my second rejection this week, so there was no need to get all weepy about it. I nodded and took a step forward. Then another. “Fine, I get it. You don’t care and don’t want to know me, message received. If I’ve messed up anything in your life, I apologize.” That was all I could do and all I was willing to do.

  “No, you don’t get off that easy.” He took another step forward and I raised my free arm, the one that held the pepper spray.

  “Back off. I got your message and I apologized, there is nothing more I can do. So. Back. Off.” I lifted my hand higher, the threat clear.

  Jase stepped forward and gave his brother, his actual brother, a push backwards. “What makes you so sure about this, Joss?”

  I sighed and shook my head. “Does it really matter at this point? You want nothing to do with me, and honestly, with this greeting, I feel the same. You won’t hear from me again, I swear.”

  “No. You invaded my life and told my wife about a sister I never knew about, so here I am. Tell your lies and we can be done with it.”

  “Fine.” Whatever. “My mama met James Callahan at a sales convention in Mississippi. They had a brief fling and when she found herself pregnant with me, he told her he was married. He came and went a few times, I have some memories of him, and then he left for good.”

  “Familiar story,” Nate snorted without any hint of compassion.

  “Anyway, Mom died almost three years ago and when I was going through her things, I learned I had, that my father had sons. Since I was all alone and always wanted siblings, I thought…anyway that’s it.” There was no way I would share anymore than that.

  Nate shook his head, clearly disgusted by the fact that I even existed. “I’m not interested in having a sister.”

  “Obviously,” I shot back as the sting of tears burned behind my eyes. “I understand. I’m just sorry it only occurred to me that you’d feel that way, once I landed on your doorstep. I really am sorry,” I told him as my voice broke. Embarrassed at my display of emotions, I pushed pass them both in my hurry to get on the other side of my front door, but I had a pizza in one hand and pepper spray in the other.

  “Let me help,” Jase offered kindly, but I couldn’t handle kindness. Not now.

  “I can do it,” I told him and set the pizza down, unlocking the door roughly and kicking it open so I could just pick up the box and disappear inside, which I did.

  A gentle knock sounded just as I kicked off my sneakers and I shook my head, wiped my tears and opened the door like nothing had happened. “Yes?”

  It was Jase, looking sweet and contrite, which only pissed me off. “Nate is protective of Mikki, especially after her second difficult pregnancy, but he’s also just Nate. Gruff and short, but I love him anyway.” The affection he had for his brother spoke volumes, and jealousy churned in my gut. “If you really want to get to know us, you can call or email me.”

  A soft sob escaped at his kind offer, and I shook my head even as I accepted the scrap of paper. “Thank you, Jase, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’ want to cause any problems with your family.” Of which I was clearly not a part, at least not in any way that mattered. They were a family and I was, well I was alone.

  “I’ve been handling Nate since I was a kid, Joss. Let me worry about him.” His smile came easy and playful, and I wondered if that was something he’d inherited from our father. That thought only made me want to cry harder because I was clear I would never get the answer.

  “Thank you,” I whispered before I closed and locked the door, this time for real.

  After that unexpected encounter with Nate and Jase, because I could no longer think of them as my brothers, I wasn’t in the mood to eat and shoved the pizza in the fridge before I jumped into a hot shower and fell into bed and cried myself to sleep.

  At least I would be well rested for the game tomorrow.

  Ben

  I’d spent a few hours at The Mayflower with Xander and Liam after last night’s football game in hopes that I might run into Joss and cross that apology off my list. She didn’t show up, and I’d indulged in a few too many beers in an effort to forget that constant look of hurt in her blue eyes, which I now regretted as I stood on the metal bleachers assigned to the away team for the girl’s soccer playoffs.

  I didn’t need to show up for the game since it wasn’t technically part of my job as principal, but the girl’s team hadn’t made it this far into the season in five seasons and the boy’s soccer team still hadn’t enjoyed a winning season after seven years. I wanted to support these girls, and sure it helped that the woman coaching them was the one currently stuck inside my head.

  I showed up to support the team, and in hopes of getting a moment alone with Joss.

  Her blond hair was pulled into a familiar high ponytail and her skin was so pale that her blue eyes looked like giant jewels from where I stood. She had on what I liked to call her coaching uniform, a PHS Girls Soccer windbreaker with the school mascot, a cartoon pirate, with matching pants and bright green and pink sneakers. Thick pink lines circled her eyes, giving off the impression she’d been crying recently, a thought that was like a kick in the stomach. I wasn’t arrogant enough to assume it was because of me, but the thought had crossed my mind.

  More than once.

  My spot in the stands gave me the perfect chance to observe her, to watch the way she interacted with the players, treating them like the young adults they were without losing her position of authority. It had taken me a long time to get used to that part of working with high schoolers, but it came naturally to Joss.

  When sadness swamped her she would physically shake it off, paste on a smile and clap her hands to refocus her attention back to the players and the game, which only made me wonder what, or who, had put that sadness in her eyes. After a missed goal, Joss wrapped an arm around the girl, said something that made the girl smile and then hold up an expectant fist.

  “There we go. Shake it off and do it better the next time, yeah?”

  The girl nodded and flashed a bigger smile. “Yeah. Thanks Coach Callahan.”

  Joss encouraged each girl every step of the way, giving advice I wished I could hear to keep their heads in the game. And when they pulled ahead during the last few minutes for a 3-2 victory, she flashed a brilliant smile as she fist-bumped each girl before wrapping her in a congratulatory hug. I felt a tug of envy that those teenagers were on the receiving end of her genuine smile, that they got to be up close and personal with her husky laugh and pink-cheeked cheer.

  I watched as she offered up kind words to the opposing team, congratulating the goalie on a thwarted goal attempt, and I realized that Joss was one amazing woman. It really was too bad she worked for me, dammit, because the more I knew of the woman, the more I wanted her. The more tempted I was to say screw my own self-imposed rule and make her mine. Which, of course, was a joke because I couldn’t even get the woman to look at me or speak to me. Never mind spend time with me when she wasn’t required to for work.

  But I’m not giving up. The field and the stands had cleared and I made my way back to the parking lot where the long blue bus idled in the back, PHS emblazoned across the side in big white letters, a cocky pirate painted on the side. Perfect. I took my time, because I needed to ready myself to see Joss again, this time up close and with eyes full of hate. I didn’t see her at first, but the girls milled about, noticeable due the school
colors they all wore.

  “Great game, girls!”

  Their chatter stopped and all eyes focused on me, some annoyed and some surprised. “Mr. Rutherford, what are you doing here?”

  “You think I’d miss last year’s champs starting to defend their title?”

  “Everyone else does, what makes you so special?” I wasn’t offended by Shelly’s sarcasm because she was right. Partly.

  “To start, I’m the principal and I’m proud of you girls. Not only are you kicking butt out on the soccer field, but you’re all maintaining better than average grades.” It was something every school struggled with, balancing athletics and academics, but these girls were doing it successfully.

  “Thanks for showing us some love, Mr. R. Poor Coach Callahan’s gonna go hoarse as our one-woman cheering squad.” A bunch of the girls laughed and agreed with Tanisha’s assessment of Joss.

  “It was my pleasure. Why aren’t you speeding out of here to celebrate your victory?”

  Shelly shrugged. “Coach C is trying to see if she can get us a reservation at that fancy pizza place right off the highway to celebrate.”

  “Oh man, I hope she can get us in, because I saw online that they let you put lobster on your pizza. And fried chicken!” That started another round of conversation about what kinds of pizzas each girl wanted.

  “You comin’, Mr. R?”

  I wanted to say yes right away, but this was Joss’ victory and if I wanted her forgiveness, I couldn’t just force my presence on her. Could I? “Is that an official invite?”

  “Can’t very well let the principal starve, now can we?” Joss’ voice sounded behind me and a smile crossed my face as I turned to face her.

  “You sure?”

  She folded her arms and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. But you’re buying your own pizza.”

  “Deal.” I couldn’t stop smiling as I made my way to the other end of the parking lot. It wasn’t actually progress since Joss hadn’t technically invited me, the team had, but she could have come up with an excuse. Yet she hadn’t.

  Because you’re her boss. I ignored that voice and pressed down on the gas a little harder, eager to get to Pizzamore. When I walked through the doors of the kitschy restaurant, the team was already there, loud and boisterous, and taking up a large table right in the middle of the place.

  “Mr. R, over here!” Tanisha waved me over and took my time, scanning the table in search of an empty seat. There was just one spot available, and I couldn’t help but feel like the girls had orchestrated it that way. “We saved you a seat.”

  “Thanks. What did I miss?” I should have known what a minefield that question could be.

  “Principal Rutherford can help,” Mira, the goalie, proudly proclaimed. “So, you’re a guy, right?”

  “Last I checked, I was.”

  “Okay so, what does it mean if you’re, you know, making out with a guy and he wants to, ah-,”

  “Girls,” Joss interrupted with a low growl. “If you can’t even say the words, you probably shouldn’t be doing the deeds.” Tanisha opened her mouth, a mischievous smile on her face when Joss pointed at her. “All of you, not just Tanisha.”

  “Fine,” Tanisha said with a groan. “If a woman wears something short or tight, or short and tight, does that means she’s broadcasting that she’s easy?”

  I frowned. “Absolutely not. It means she feels confident in her skin, enough to show off a body she works hard to keep in shape.”

  “Okay,” another girl chimed in. “What about if a guy wants you to put your mouth on his-,”

  “Girls! He’s the principal, not the sex ed teacher. If you have so many questions, ask Mr. Benson.”

  They all laughed. “Mr. Benson is more afraid to talk about sex than we are, and he’s like fifty.”

  He was thirty-five, but I had a feeling that was the same thing to these girls. Luckily, a twenty-something waiter with boy band hair came to take our drinks and promptly stole their attention. And a few hearts.

  “Thanks for the save.” I leaned over to whisper in Joss’ ear and her scent caught in my nostrils.

  “It wasn’t for you, listening to teenaged girl problems gets tiresome after awhile, and with a fresh perspective, things might have gotten very graphic.”

  I looked around the table at the girls that made up the varsity soccer team and laughed. “With these girls?”

  “These girls are young women. Most of them are seventeen and college bound, they talk about things like blowjobs, third base, sexy lingerie and my personal favorite, fingerbanging.” The way she said the word told me that it was her least favorite topic of conversation.

  I was so caught off guard by her words that my gaze was glued to her mouth and my own mouth was glued shut.

  “See? It wasn’t for you, it was for my sanity.”

  “Well, thank you anyway.” She shrugged off the gratitude and kept the table focused enough to place their orders before one of them offered to marry the waiter.

  Ten minutes later we had our drinks and the girls were whispering and texting, giving me the perfect time to talk to Joss. “Are you all right, Joss?”

  “I’m fine, Principal Rutherford. Why do you ask?”

  Principal Rutherford. Again. “You can call me Ben, you know?”

  “We’ve already been over this. I’m fine. Thank you for supporting the girls, they won’t say it, but it means a lot to them.”

  “Like I told them, it was my pleasure. I wished all the teams could have the support that football and baseball do, but I can’t force attendance at extracurricular activities.” All I could do was show them that I noticed their hard work. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  She shook her head quickly. Too quickly to be believable. “I’m fine, like I told you. Just a little sleep deprived.”

  “Hot date?” It was an asinine thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “That is none of your business. Let’s just stick to PHS and soccer.” That’s what her mouth said, but that little pulse in her throat told me otherwise.

  “What if I want to know more about you, Joss?”

  She shrugged. “I’d say we should keep things professional. That’s the appropriate way to go, isn’t’ it?”

  “Dammit, Joss. Why won’t you just let me apologize?”

  She turned to me, her blue eyes magnificent as they glared angrily at me. “Why won’t you just let it go? What’s with the need to force a meaningless apology on me? Ego? Guilt? Workplace cohesion?” I blinked, stunned by her words, and even more stunned that I didn’t have a response. “You don’t even know,” she grumbled and smacked her hands on the wooden table before she stood and walked away.

  “Ooooh,” Tanisha sang. “Was that a lover’s spat? Please tell me that was a lover’s spat, because Matt and Lara are so boring.”

  “It wasn’t a lover’s spat,” I denied to an eager audience.

  “Bummer,” they groaned, almost collectively while my gaze searched, in vain, for Joss.

  Now I owed the woman two apologies. This was getting out of hand.

  Joss

  Game days were long days in general, but post-season games always left me feeling completely exhausted. By the time we finished our celebratory dinner—with Principal Rutherford—and made the ninety minute drive back to Pilgrim, I felt totally drained and in desperate need of self-care.

  Self-care. It sounded like such a luxury, and it wasn’t something I let myself indulge in too often, not with the voice of my perfectly practical mama in my head, reminding me that working women didn’t have time for such indulgences. Today, I ignored that voice and made use of the spa kit Olive had given me as part of our Secret Santa exchange last year. It was a great little kit, filled with bath bombs, tea candles, a bath pillow and even shatter-proof glasses for the wine I didn’t drink, but I was happy to fill it with bourbon as the tub filled with steaming, bubbling water.

  Sinking into the hot water, I willed away negative thoughts
that invaded my mind with every moment of silence. Of peace. Ben and his stupid, half-assed apology meant to make sure things didn’t get too tense at the office. I didn’t want to think of the man who had vaguely, yet somehow soundly, rejected me. The same way I didn’t want to think of the two other men who’d rejected me. My brothers. Half-brothers.

  I took tiny sips of bourbon whenever those thoughts invaded and sent my shoulders up to my ears. This was my time to relax, to unwind after a long week of work and tension and non-stop running around. Before I knew it, glass number one was empty and I’d made my way halfway through glass number two of bourbon.

  Dad would be proud. According to my mama, he loved nothing more than a stiff drink at the end of each day and grinned, at least we shared that much in common. That and two half brothers who wanted nothing to do with you either.

  That was a tough thought to accept, and I took another sip, maybe it was a gulp, after a while it didn’t matter. Bourbon and hot water was the perfect combination for forgetting one’s worries, or least for shoving one’s worries down so deep that it was the same as if they were forgotten.

  Non-existent.

  A knock sounded in the distance in an attempt to interrupt my relaxation, but I ignored it, assuming the neighbors were having a party. Or something. It was after ten in Pilgrim, not exactly a time for unexpected visitors, so I sank deeper into the tub and let the hot water do its thing on my stiff, aching muscles.

  The knock sounded again, louder this time. And the knocking didn’t stop, it grew louder and more insistent until I couldn’t deny that it was my door. My unexpected visitor.

  “Are you kidding me!” It wasn’t a question because it didn’t’ require an answer, more like an apology from the universe for interrupting a brief moment of peace.

  I stepped from the tub, soaking wet, and yanked my robe from the hook on the back of the door, angry as I stomped down the stairs and looked through the peephole, groaning at the identity of the incessant knocker. After two deep breaths that I exhaled slowly, I opened the door about a foot wide, just enough to interact with the unwanted guest. “Principal Rutherford, what are you doing here?”