by Nikki Bloom
Boss’s Accidental Baby
A Billionaire Small Town Second Chance Romance
Nikki Bloom
© Copyright 2021 by Nikki Bloom. All rights reserved.
No portion of this document may be reproduced, duplicated, or transmitted in either electronic means or in printed format. This includes, but is not limited to photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher, except as permitted by copyright law. For permissions please contact [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are fictitious products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
1. Kit
2. Acacia
3. Kit
4. Kit
5. Acacia
6. Kit
7. Acacia
8. Acacia
9. Kit
10. Acacia
11. Kit
12. Acacia
13. Kit
14. Acacia
15. Kit
16. Acacia
17. Kit
18. Acacia
19. Kit
20. Acacia
21. Acacia
22. Kit
23. Acacia
24. Kit
25. Kit
26. Acacia
Epilogue
Mechanic’s Home Run SNEAK PEEK
Prologue
1. Thorin
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Prologue
Acacia
As I entered the kitchen, my mouth watered. The heavenly scent of my mother's cooking on the stove and the sight of her tossing bacon and apple farro salad at the island made my stomach grumble. She smiled warmly when I sat in the bar stool opposite her, her nimble hands pausing temporarily to offer me an apple slice. I gratefully took it from her and bit into it.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted, chuckling, busying herself once more.
I chewed and swallowed before greeting her. “Lunch smells really good, vegetable ramen, right?”
“Mhm, I know how much you like it. Besides, it's your last time coming home from college. Tradition is tradition, after all,” she teased, setting another apple slice in front of me.
I smiled at her fondly. “Are Patrick and Dad joining us for lunch?”
She nodded, sliding the chopped ingredients into the bowl. “Your dad went out to grab a few things from the store and Patrick is in the den, playing those games of his again. I think he wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I'll go see what he wants and get him off the games; family time is important,” I told her as I hopped off the barstool. I then went around the island, kissed her cheek, and stole a piece of bacon –to her protest– before going to the den.
Sure enough, Patrick was sitting in the lounge chair in front of the flat screen. His focus was airtight as sounds of gunfire and tactical information floated through the headset he wore. Feeling devious, I crept up on him – remaining silent, even though it wasn't necessary with noise-canceling headphones doing the work for me. I took my hands, curling them into the shape of his shoulders, and slammed them down while calling out 'boo!'
He jumped, knocking the headphones from his head, and spun around with a surprised look on his face. But when he saw me, Patrick set the controller down and stood up to embrace me tightly, his arms swallowing my small frame as he lifted me from the floor and swung me around happily.
“Can't breathe,” I laughed and squeaked when he took the breath from my lungs.
“Don't care,” he murmured, hugging me tighter.
I continued to laugh as I made an attempt to pat his back with my arms pinned to my side in his bear hug.
Patrick released me a few moments later, but only enough to get a good look at me. “Wow, look at you, Acacia. All grown up and a college graduate! It feels like just yesterday I watched you get your high school diploma.”
I waved my hand modestly, smiling warmly. “It isn't that impressive.”
He clicked his tongue. “Don't diminish your accomplishments. We are all very proud of you. Especially Dad.”
“Mom said you wanted to talk to me about something?” I asked him, changing the topic as we parted and took our respective seats in the den.
He snapped his fingers as if he'd just remembered something and beamed at me. “So, you remember how I started dating Genevieve last year?”
“Mhm.”
“Well, our one-year anniversary is coming up and I could really use a woman's perspective on how to celebrate it. I love this woman, immensely, and it has to be perfect. Do you think you could help me?” he gushed, the identical green of his eyes –the same green reflected in mine– shone brightly.
“Of course! Maybe we can start planning tonight when I get back from job searching.” I agreed, shifting my hair from one side of my shoulders to the other as the front door opened and shut.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the tail end of my father's figure rounding the corner into the kitchen and bolted from my seat. I found him standing across the island speaking to my mother as she dished up bowls. His once thick, dark locks were peppered with grey and had been cut shorter than I'd remembered. The worn-down leather jacket he always wore had a few new holes, though he'd never replaced it – due to the sentimental value that it held. Even in his accelerated age, my father seemed to be just as young and energetic as a twenty-year-old boy, teasing my mother as he always had growing up. I watched for a moment as he tossed various vegetables from the salad prep at her, and smiled when she halfheartedly told him to knock it off but smiled brightly, her eyes creasing at the edges.
“Hey, sweetie, did you find out what Patrick wanted?” my mother asked when our eyes met across the kitchen.
I nodded as my father turned around and beamed when he saw me.
He held his arms out to me with a warm smile, the way he had always done when I made my way home. I crossed the kitchen quickly and exhaled in comfort when his arms wrapped around me. He smelled the same as he always did, of that cologne he loved so much, sandalwood with a hint of mint. I had come to associate that smell with home and whenever I caught a whiff of it out in the world, I always smiled thinking of him.
“How are you, baby girl?” he asked once we'd parted, holding me at arm's length as we gazed at each other.
I beamed at him. “I'm good, Papa. Maybe a little jet-lagged. Remind me to never fly with that airline again. It was awful.”
“Aw, what happened?” he asked, tucking a stray lock of hair from my face.
I sighed heavily. “Well, instead of being a direct flight, I had several layovers and our plane was delayed two hours when we finally got here. Not to mention that I was stuck between two very heavy sleepers and a crying baby the whole time.”
He chuckled softly. “Unfortunately, that is how most flights go. When I was traveling a lot, I constantly had to deal with crying babies and heavy sleepers, not to mention I got stuck in the window seat more often than I'd like.”
I laughed, holding my hands up. “Okay, fair enough. At least I won't have to get on a plane for a long time.”
&nb
sp; “Lunch is ready, guys. Acacia, can you go grab your brother, please?” Mom asked, setting bowls down on the kitchen table.
The air outside had been chilly as I walked through my hometown, inhaling the fresh scent of the rain that had fallen early that morning and running my fingertips across the tall sunflowers planted along the sidewalk. Normally, I'd be wearing a pair of sneakers and whatever I happened upon in my closet, but today I had to look professional. And so, a simple walk through town was made a hassle by the thin heels of my ankle boots. I should've taken Mom up on her offer to use the car, I thought as my internal compass guided my steps toward downtown.
Downtown was made up of several streets, most of which had been remodeled after I left for college the first time. Something about upping property values to attract more people to our small town and keep the small businesses running. It had created a lot of work for my father, who worked in construction with my brother Patrick. And as I walked the streets, I could point out which restaurants and stores they had worked on. Including the restaurant I was about to walk into, Valori familiari forti. An Italian restaurant hiring multiple positions, and with good pay, too.
It was loud when I stepped inside, bustling with business, families, friends, and lovers alike dining. Immediately upon walking in the front door, you are met with a section for waiting, a sign posted that read, wait time between 25 minutes and 30, please be patient with our waitstaff and thank you for your service, with a little smiley face. I took in the rest of the décor, noting that it stuck true to the theme of an Italian restaurant with ornate designs in the molding, large portraits, landscape paintings, and Italian phrases written in calligraphy along the beige walls. Every detail screamed good taste and high-end service, as even the servers were dressed in fancy attire.
While off in my own world, a petite blonde woman had walked up to the podium and begun speaking to me. I had missed her initial question but smiled kindly when she tried to get my attention again.
“I'm sorry, what did you say?” I asked her, shifting my weight to the other leg.
She returned my smile politely. “It's okay. Are you dining alone today or will others be joining you later?”
I waved my hand and took a step toward her. “Oh, no. I'm not eating today. I was actually hoping to speak to the manager about a job. But, if it is too busy, I can always come back later.”
She tapped a few menus together and put them in the pocket of the podium, looking around the restaurant for a moment before her eyes returned to me. “It shouldn't be a problem. Let me go grab him for you. You can take a seat over there while you wait. What's your name?”
“Acacia Perry. Thank you so much.” I paused to look at her name tag and smiled. “Helena.”
“Don't mention it, Acacia. I'll let him know that you're waiting; he shouldn't be too long.” She told me and then walked away.
Once she had disappeared into the restaurant, I took a seat on the bench by the front door and occupied my time people-watching. In the time it took for Helena to get the manager, I had watched several people leave and enter the restaurant. Large groups and small, those who were leaving looked so happy and seemed to have enjoyed their meal thoroughly. And those who entered the restaurant to eat seemed to be excited to eat here – whether it be the first time or not. I recognized quite a few people and even waved to a few of them as they came and went. A couple stopped to make small talk with me, ask about my life, how college was, and to tell me the same about themselves. It reminded me how much I loved living here, with a close-knit community of people who pretty much all knew each other.
“As I live and breathe, Acacia Perry all grown up and looking for a job in my restaurant,” a vaguely familiar voice called, drawing my attention away from my conversation.
My eyes were met with a tall man with messy black hair, his nose slightly crooked, and dark pink lips turned up in a smile. It didn't quite dawn on me who he was until I saw a specific tattoo among the array of tattoos crawling up his forearms. It was then that I stood up and pulled him into a hug, one that I nearly immediately pulled out of for fear of being too forward.
He chuckled when I looked up at him. “It's been a while, hasn't it?”
My bottom lip jutted out in a pout and I playfully slapped his strong chest. “It has, you jerk! I haven't seen you since you graduated! And, I have to be honest, it hurts, Kit,” I teased him.
He chuckled harder and feigned pain. “Hey, you could have picked up the phone, Acacia. I didn't fall off the face of the planet or anything.”
I nodded my head in understanding. “True. But you could've done the same, you know?”
His smile widened. “You got me there. Anyway, I heard you're looking for a job. Still interested in working here, even though its owner is a jerk who didn't try hard enough to stay in contact?”
“Absolutely!” I beamed at him, folding my hands together behind my back.
“Then welcome to Valori familiari forti. You start tomorrow at 8am and don't worry too much about having the correct clothing. I'll provide you with your uniform,” he informed me, touching my shoulder briefly.
“Wait! Don't you want to see my resume? I mean, I haven't done any cooking professionally, but I did attend four years of culinary school and I got my business degree.”
Once again, his smile widened to show his pearly white teeth. “Acacia, I don't need to see your resume. You're family, and family helps family.”
1
Kit
“You're twenty minutes late, Crystal. You better have a good excuse,” I murmured as the ditsy server tried to sneak her way past my office door.
She stopped dead in her tracks and backed up. “Traffic was terrible?”
I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. “You're fired. Please wash and return your uniforms; I'll mail your last check to you.”
“But why? I'm a hard worker!” she shouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she took a step inside my office.
“Are you though?” I challenged, pulling out her timesheet. “For the last month alone, you've been late for nearly every shift. And the shifts that you are on time for, I have heard and witnessed that you haven't been performing as well as you should be. Especially when it comes to cleaning and stocking – which is part of your job.”
“And I'm the only one who isn't? Half the wait staff half-asses their work. Why am I being singled out right now?”
I folded my arms over my chest and turned toward her. “Look, it's nothing personal, okay? I'm running a business and sometimes I have to cut ties. Welcome to the business world. I wish you well, Crystal, but this isn't a daycare center. You have to be competent enough to do your work without being hovered over. An entire year, you worked here, plenty of time for you to perfect the job.”
Her nostrils flared and she pursed her lips while nodding her head. “Okay. You didn't even give me a chance to do better or ask me what was going on. But okay. I'll get you the uniforms when my check comes in.” She stormed out of my office before I could respond, and when she was out of sight, I sighed heavily.
How did I let this get so bad? I scolded myself, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. Ten layoffs in ten days. This is getting ridiculous.
I'm not sure how long I stayed there, pinching, but when a knock and a timid voice came from the doorway of my office, I looked up.
“Sorry to bother you, Kit, but there is a girl here who wants to apply. Said her name is Acacia Perry. Should I tell her to come back?” Helena, the hostess, asked as she periodically looked back toward the front.
Even the mention of her name was enough to send that flicker of warmth through my body. Particularly my heart, which skipped a beat and sent an anxious sweat to the palms of my hands. It had been years since I'd seen her, nearly eight. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd turned out to be – if she'd accomplished her goals in life as she'd always gushed about.
“No need, Helena. I'll go speak with her, thank
you for letting me know,” I informed her, standing and straightening myself.
Helena nodded and went about her business, leaving my office ahead of me.
I followed her back to the front and then veered off toward the waiting area where I saw Acacia. She was sitting on the bench, speaking with a couple of people who were also waiting. Immediately, I traced the features of her face. Her soft, porcelain skin, the freckles across her button nose. The way her lips –plump and stained red– turned up as she laughed at whatever was said, producing the dimples I'd fallen for so long ago. And time seemed to stand still as she ran her hands through her somewhat wild brunette curls, shifting them to the other side of her shoulders.
Smiling, I walked over to her. “As I live and breathe, Acacia Perry all grown up and looking for a job in my restaurant.”
She turned her head toward me and tilted it slightly. After a few seconds, her eyes widened and she stood up. She startled me by going in for a hug, one that I returned just a second before she pulled away. Her cheeks were rosy when our eyes met again, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
“It's been a while, hasn't it?” I teased and then smiled larger when her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
“It has, you jerk! I haven't seen you since you graduated! And, I have to be honest, it hurts, Kit,” she teased, slapping my chest playfully.