My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3)

by Jennifer Peel

  “I did want you,” he scoffed, “but not the way you wanted me to. I wanted to have fun and you always had expectations. Like my wife,” he said quietly.

  “I thought she was the one,” I mocked him.

  He ran his hands through his hair and paced. “She doesn’t have any idea, just like you didn’t, about the pressure.”

  “What pressure?”

  “To provide for a family. I didn’t get to finish college, so it’s hard to find good paying jobs.” He cast me an accusatory look.

  I found it rich he didn’t think I knew how hard it was to provide for a family. What did he think I had been doing for the past twelve years in his absence? “Don’t blame me for that decision. Your dad offered to pay for you to keep going and I supported that. I even offered to work two jobs so you could finish. You’re the one who dropped out, insisting it was a waste of time.”

  He threw his hands up in the air because he knew I was right.

  “Leland, I don’t know what’s going on between you and your wife, but think about this before you decide if you really want to see Chloe. She has expectations of you. Those include you being all the way in. So, if you’re not ready to be present and involved, don’t continue to hurt her. She doesn’t deserve it.” I pointed toward the café. “She’s in there right now scared to see you because she so badly wants you to love her,” I choked out, “but she’s afraid you won’t.”

  “I do love her.” It was the first time I ever heard any real emotion in his voice.

  “Then prove it to her. Even if that means leaving her alone.”

  He stared at me with bulging eyes. His lips parted several times to speak but he never did. He eventually walked off without another word.

  I bent over and tried to catch my breath.

  Miles came rushing out. “Are you all right?”

  I stood up and inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I think I’m going to be.”

  Miles opened his arms.

  All I had to do was nod my acknowledgment and acceptance of what he was silently offering, and like oppositely charged magnets, the force drawing us together was too hard to fight. I found I didn’t want to. In his arms, I felt empowered and safe.

  I sank into him, letting go of all the tension in my body. “You’re the best boss ever,” I laughed against his chest.

  He didn’t laugh with me. Instead, he rested his chin on my head. “We may need to do something about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I felt like there was a weird tension between Miles and me all week after what transpired on Saturday. He wasn’t avoiding me, but our interactions were short and to the point, including dinner and bedtime. He would eat, help clean up Henry, and then go back to work. At bedtime, he would meet me in Henry’s room, read him a story, tuck him in, take the monitor, and say goodnight. He was never curt, always kind to me, but professional. It was as it should be.

  Why did I feel so empty, then?

  I was going to contemplate that question while I drank a glass of wine and binged Broadchurch, a British crime drama I had been meaning to watch on Netflix. Chloe was spending the night at my parents’, so it was a good night to unwind and watch a show I wouldn’t allow her to see. Her soccer game had been canceled due to all the cold rain we had received the last week and chances were high it was going to snow tonight. Hello, October.

  Before I headed for the cottage, I wanted to give Miles the drawing I had completed of Henry and Sophie. I was kind of thinking it could be a ‘thank you’ for being so kind to Chloe and me last week. It meant the world to her that he had come to her soccer game and taken interest in her. Especially in light of Leland failing miserably. He hadn’t contacted me again. I supposed that was his answer. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or devastated. Or pensive. Leland had a way of surprising me in the most unpleasant ways imaginable. For all I knew, he would show up with Kylie one of these days.

  I pulled the newly framed sketch out of my bag while I watched Henry sleep. I should have just given it to Miles before he walked out the door after tucking Henry in, but embarrassment had won out. Maybe I should keep it. Except I had promised Miles I would give it to him.

  I skimmed the glass with my fingers. “What do you think, Sophie?” I whispered to no one but me. I gazed at her sleeping angel. Henry was holding onto George, his teddy, and every once in a while, he smiled in his sleep. Oh, how I loved him. “I hope you don’t mind how much I love your son,” I spoke to Sophie again.

  I stood up, half convinced to go home and put the framed photo in my room, but I swore I heard Sophie say, “They need you.” I froze in place. I never heard voices until I took this job. It was probably all in my head, maybe even wishful thinking. I didn’t want to admit how many times I had thought about the embraces Miles and I had shared last week. The connection I felt with him was both disconcerting and wonderful. I think he felt it too and it was why he was staying away from me. It was the right and smart thing to do. That settled it. I was going to the cottage.

  I kissed Henry’s smooth brow before heading for the door. I was startled when it opened.

  Miles’s hand flew to his chest. Apparently, I’d startled him too. “I didn’t realize you were still here,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry, I was just leaving.” I nonchalantly shoved the frame in my bag. As hard as I tried to be sneaky, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Miles stared at my bag. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Um . . .” I stared at him in the glow of the hall and Henry’s night light. “What do you think it is?” Maybe in the semi-dark, he hadn’t gotten a good look.

  He bent his head as if to wonder if I’d lost my mind. The answer was yes, I had. Working for him had been my undoing.

  “My picture,” he responded.

  “I’m not sure it’s complete.”

  His mouth twitched up. “Then why did you frame it?”

  “To see how it would look,” I said as if it were obvious.

  He held out his hand. “I’d be happy to offer my opinion.”

  I wasn’t ready to give in yet. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  His left brow raised. “I could ask you the same question.”

  He got me there, but I was ready to respond. “I love to watch Henry sleep. It reminds me that there’s good in this world.”

  Miles rested his hand on the door frame, drawing himself closer to me. “Sophie used to say the same thing. And as crazy as it sounds, I’m here because of her. I swore I heard her tell me to check on Henry. I must be going bonkers.”

  Him and me both. “I think it’s sweet. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”

  He gently grabbed my arm. “Not so fast.”

  Yep, his touch still made my body zing.

  His gaze held mine. “You still didn’t give me my picture.”

  I supposed I hadn’t. I resigned myself by reaching into my bag and slowly pulling out the driftwood frame that I thought would go well in his office.

  Miles took it from me, probably afraid I would change my mind and shove it back in my bag. He let go of me and cradled the sketch of his sister rocking her little boy who eternally slumbered in her arms. Miles ran his fingers repeatedly over the glass. “It’s lovely,” there was a hitch in his breath.

  He had me tearing up. “I’m happy you like it. I also wanted to say thank you for being so kind to Chloe and me.”

  His head lifted. “Why would you think you need to thank me for that?”

  I pressed my lips together, not sure what to say. “I don’t know,” I answered, flustered when nothing came to mind. “I’m going to go.”

  “Aspen, please don’t.” He stepped closer, too close. “You don’t need to thank me for treating you how you deserve to be treated. It is I that should be thanking you. Not only for the picture, but for how well you take care of Henry and me.”

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered. “Good night.” I had to leave before I got lost in his eyes. Befo
re I suggested he embrace me to show his thanks. Yes, that’s how much I missed being in his arms.

  “Good night,” he sighed.

  I sidestepped him and walked out the door. Before I made it to the stairs he came after me.

  “Chloe is at your parents’ tonight, correct?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “What are your plans?” he rushed to say.

  “Wine and Netflix,” I admitted.

  “Would you like some company?” He shifted his feet.

  The honest answer was yes, but was it the wise answer?

  “I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc begging to be enjoyed,” he tried to convince me. His white wine was a lot more expensive than the fifteen-dollar bottle I’d been saving for a “special” occasion. “I’ll let you pick the film,” he said, sweetening the deal.

  “I thought you were writing tonight.”

  “I could do with a break.” His gleaming eyes were imploring me to agree to this unexpected plan.

  I was torn. I wanted him to write because I needed that book and he promised me once he was a hundred pages in, I could read it. But admittedly, I’d missed him this week and I was tired of spending Friday nights alone or as the seventh wheel.

  “Okay, but I get to control the remote,” I playfully replied before I realized how flirtatious that sounded.

  Miles walked past me. “Believe me, darling, you are in control.”

  He hadn’t called me darling or love all week. And what did he mean by I was in control? I followed him down the stairs. He headed straight for the kitchen. He stopped and propped the picture up on the island, taking a few seconds to admire it again before he headed to the built-in wine refrigerator.

  “Have a seat.” He pointed at the couch in the great room. “I’ll grab the wine and a couple of glasses. The remote is in the coffee table’s drawer.”

  I stared between the comfortable gray linen couch and the stiff looking cream chair, wondering if I should take the seat for one even though it meant not seeing the TV as well and a sore butt. Sitting on the couch felt more like this was a date. I went with the very end of the couch, like, I was seriously hugging the armrest with a hairy white throw pillow on my lap. Safe and secure.

  Miles chuckled at me when he walked in carrying the wine glasses in one hand and the chilled, uncorked wine in the other. He sat directly in the middle of the couch. While he poured, I pulled up the show on the massive screen above the fireplace. Miles poured a generous amount into each of the larger-than-average wine glasses. Afterward, he jumped up and turned on the gas fireplace before turning down the lights. The firelight flickered and danced in the floor to ceiling windows and wouldn’t you know it, it started to snow. The gentle flecks of white added a hint of magic. In an instant, the room changed from a friendly atmosphere to one inviting romantic entanglements.

  I gripped the pillow tighter, reminding myself I had signed a contract and I’d made Chloe an appointment with an orthodontist. Getting fired wasn’t an option for me.

  Miles sat back down, looking pleased with himself. “That’s better.”

  Better for who?

  Miles handed me a glass. “Relax.”

  I wasn’t sure I should. I took the glass, and deeply partook of the liquid gold. A crisp flavor burst hit me. I had never had anything like it. “Mmm. That’s delicious. Thank you.”

  He held up the bottle. “There’s plenty more.”

  Note to self, do not refill your glass. That’s how tattoos and babies happen. I set my glass on the coffee table and pulled up the show.

  “So, what are we watching?” Miles sat back and sipped his wine as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Well, I was going to watch Broadchurch, but I hear it’s pretty gritty, and the first season is eight episodes long, so we can pick something else.”

  “Broadchurch was an ITV show. It was quite the obsession when it came out. Sophie loved it.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “Not much of a telly watcher.”

  “I can go to the cottage.”

  Miles leaned over, took the remote from me, and clicked play. “I’m yours for the night.”

  I liked the sound of that, but I shouldn’t. I took another sip of my wine before hugging my side of the couch tighter. Miles had inched closer.

  “Ah, Clevedon,” Miles commented on the town setting.

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks quaint.”

  Miles rolled his head my direction. “Do you watch a lot of British shows?”

  “Define a lot.”

  “That many?” He tugged the pillow from me. “Why are you so nervous around me tonight?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar.” He batted me with the pillow.

  I tried relaxing, meaning I wasn’t white knuckling the arm rest. Instead I was gently resting my arm on it. “I’ve never watched a movie with my boss before,” I admitted.

  “Don’t remind me,” he growled.

  I shifted my body in his direction. “Why don’t you like being called my boss?”

  “Please, let’s not talk about it. Tonight, we’re friends.” He hugged the pillow.

  Well, okay. I turned back to watch the show. It wasted no time getting to the gut-wrenching scenes. I stole the pillow from Miles, needing some comfort. I might need a tissue too. The tears were real.

  “Do you want my hand?” Miles held out his.

  Yes, please. “Nope. Nope, I’m good.” The poor pillow was getting the life squeezed out of it.

  Miles kept his hand available in case I changed my mind. So not happening. If I held his hand, I was sure I would want to be entangled.

  “How’s Chloe?” he randomly asked. “Other than her phone case dilemma?”

  I exchanged a knowing look with him. Chloe had been in a tizzy two nights ago at dinner because the wrong phone case was delivered with her phone and it was taking forever, in her opinion, for the right one to be delivered. I wouldn’t let her take her phone to school until it was properly protected. She must have begged me for thirty minutes. She’d even tried to get Miles on her side, which she did. I still didn’t budge.

  “The correct case came today and she’s with my parents, so she’s as happy as can be, well, mostly. She’s bummed because she has to ask my dad to be her date for the daddy-daughter dance next week. I think every year it’s her secret wish that her own dad, if you can call him that, will take her. And with him being in town, I think it hurts more.”

  Even in the dark I could see Miles’s face redden. “The bloke is an arse. I hope he stays the hell away from you and Chloe. He owes you that at least.”

  “I told him he either needed to be all in or all out. Sadly, I don’t know if he’s capable of the first option. Or if he just doesn’t want to try.”

  Miles shifted uncomfortably. “Every man should own up to his limitations and bloody well have the courtesy not to commit to someone if he can’t follow through. And he sure as hell shouldn’t father a child with her.”

  I paused and took a moment to study him before I replied. His response felt more like a self-indictment. Or maybe he was angry about his own father. Or both? “Leland set his own limitations and has used it as an excuse. He wants all the perks without any of the work it takes to make a relationship work. Whether that’s a romantic relationship or a parent-child one. But people can change if they want to. Even me.”

  Miles drummed his fingers against his legs. I had come to recognize that as his way of releasing tension. “What are you trying to change?”

  I curled my legs under me. “I don’t want to be the woman Leland left. I’m trying to forgive her. Maybe in the process, I can figure out what a real relationship is.”

  Miles’s finger ceased drumming. His gaze intensified. “Are you looking for a relationship?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not swearing them off anymore. But I still reserve my right to think most men are douche bags.” I gr
inned.

  “You’d be right.” He sat up and took a long sip of his wine.

  We each turned our attention back to the show. We watched for several minutes in silence, but I could tell Miles was restless. He kept inching closer and looking my way. No wonder he never watched TV; he couldn’t sit still and enjoy it. I finally paused the show and turned toward him. “Would you rather talk?”

  “I thought you would never ask.” He scooted closer.

  I had nowhere else to go so I shifted the pillow to be between us. This didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes were laughing at me.

  “Do you have something on your mind?” I asked.

  He nodded slowly and deliberately. Yeah, that was kind of sexy. We really needed to turn a light on. Or maybe Henry could wake up and need me. Anything to save me from entangling.

  “Your mother said something in her report about Silent Stones that bothered me.”

  Great. I knew I should have wrestled that thing away from her. “What did she say?” I grimaced.

  “She said my kissing scenes were pathetic.”

  I rubbed my lips together, trying not to smile. “Well . . .”

  He sat up straight with his jaw dropped. “You agree with her, don’t you? My biggest fan thinks I can’t write a bloody kissing scene.”

  “When did I become your biggest fan?”

  “Don’t try and change the subject,” he teased. “Tell me why you think that? Better yet, tell me how to fix it.”

  “I don’t know that I’m qualified to do that. You’re the writer.” And surely the man had more experience than me in that department. By his own admission, he was a generous lover. I believed him.

  “I write thrillers, darling, not romance.”

  “Given my life situation, I haven’t read a lot of romance novels either. And the only romance I’ve experienced in the last several years has come from watching every period romance the BBC and Masterpiece Theater has ever produced.”

  He ripped the pillow away from me. “That’s excellent material. Show me what you’ve learned.”

  “What?” I spluttered.

  “Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

  “Don’t you mean tell you?”