Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Dang. That’s heavier than I thought.

  I flop back on the bench, processing everything.

  “I didn’t know that but I’m not surprised,” I say slowly. “Nick mentioned Bea being like a mom to him more than once.”

  “Exactly. So, I’m no shrink, but you can see how growing up like that might make it hard to trust people. I think all the crap they had to deal with early on molded them both. But it wasn’t just the scandal, I mean. It’s one thing to have parents making bad choices. It’s another to have your grandparents swooping in at every opportunity because your mom and dad aren’t fit to raise you.”

  Wow.

  My heart aches for Nick.

  “They were basically abandoned,” I whisper.

  “Right. Ward dealt with it by walling himself off. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about people. He was afraid to care about anyone too much, because they might leave him high and dry, until I tamed my beast. Nick, I think he tried to live down his parents’ scandals by creating his own drama. Becoming the center of attention feels like something he can control, even when he can’t.”

  Ouch. The poor guy. I shouldn’t be so hard on him, so judgmental.

  The foster system sucked, but I’ve never really thought about what it’d be like to have bio parents who flat-out don’t love you. Would that be even worse than no parents?

  “Was it that bad? Is he broken for...for life?” I don’t want him to be.

  “No. I just think he’s afraid of love, and he will be until someone gives him a good reason not to be. Just like his big brother.” Paige pushes her shades down, as if to say case closed to her psychoanalysis.

  We’re silent for a moment, basking in the springtime sun, both of us deep in thought.

  “You know the girl on all the gossip blogs? The crazy chick that threw champagne and slapped him when he enlisted me for that crazy fake date night—Carmen what’s-her-face—is she just a psycho ex-girlfriend or what?” I ask, holding my breath.

  Paige looks at me and frowns.

  “Hmm. I don’t know much about that, unfortunately. That’s one card Nick holds close to his heart, and Ward’s only ever hinted at it a couple of times. I got the impression they were friends who turned into more, then went hot and cold for a while. Like childhood sweethearts or something. They grew up together. Ward did tell me that Nick finally told her to get lost for good around the time Beatrice was in the hospital.”

  “...I think Carmen missed the memo,” I say, trying not to let my bitterness show.

  “Yeah, she’s been after him again. It’s kinda pathetic. Nick keeps pushing her away and she just keeps feeding the tabloids. I feel bad for both of them.”

  “Is he in love with her?” I grind out.

  Why? Why do I care so much?

  “I—I don’t think so. They both just seem really lost to me.” She’s about to say more, but an alarm chimes softly on her phone. “Oof, there’s my cue. I need to go set up for my class. Do you and Millie want to see my new studio? I’ll help her make a clay pot.”

  “Sure! She’ll love that. I left the town car across the street in case somebody needed a last-minute ride. I’ll save you the walk.” I stand up and cup my hands around my mouth. “Amelia Halle! Come here for a surprise.”

  She comes skipping over, trips on a half-flattened water bottle, and goes down.

  My heart stops.

  I make a frantic run for her and I’m closing in when she stands, brushes the gravel off her arms, giggles, and then runs on to meet me.

  Millie slams into my leg, and I pick her up.

  “Are you okay, Millie?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Surpriiise!” she squeals.

  Yep. I got lucky. She’s going to be just fine.

  “Do you want to make a clay pot today?”

  Her little face turns into a ginormous grin. She claps her hands, but one slaps my face before managing to connect with her opposite palm.

  I walk over to the bench with Millie on my hip. “Have you met Paige before?”

  Millie shakes her head.

  Paige stands. “Hi, little lady! We haven’t met, but I’ve heard so much about her. Nick loves her. Ward thinks she’s adorable, and Beatrice wishes she were her own granddaughter.”

  “See? You’re a popular girl,” I tell Millie.

  Paige steps around me so she can see Millie’s face.

  “I’m Paige. What’s your name?” She holds her hand up.

  Millie gives her a high five. “Millie. Millie Halle.”

  “Millie Halle, do you want to make some art?”

  “Yeah!”

  I lean back when Millie goes to clap this time and thankfully miss her chubby palms.

  Paige plays with Millie in the back seat on the way to her studio. It gives me time to think.

  I need to talk to Nick, and I need to say more than the half-hearted crap I texted earlier. Maybe I’ll drop by his place later.

  Then again, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

  With my luck, I’d go over to apologize and run smack into a snarling Carmen Seraphina.

  Not that it matters.

  I don’t care who he dates—or breaks up with ten times over.

  As we’re walking into Paige’s studio, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my purse.

  Stand by. I might need a ride later, Nick says.

  After a short walk, Paige lets us inside and I bring Millie a booster seat. Paige goes to a cabinet, pulls out a ball of clay, and hands it to her.

  With the little artist hard at work, I can respond to Nick’s text. You need a few things but I’m not sure a ride is one of them.

  Nick: Very funny. You’re a riot. What are you and Millie doing?

  Reese: She’s upgraded from nuggets to chicken ala Kiev, and I ran away with a biker. Want me to see if he can give you a ride?

  Nick: Bullshit. What are you really doing?

  Reese: We’re at your SIL’s art studio. She’s teaching Millie to make a clay pot. It’s cute to watch.

  Nick: It just so happens this is the last ride I’m requesting. I’ve hired a nicer driver without a club for a tongue, and she’ll be starting tomorrow. I’ll miss your good looks.

  For a second, my heart stops, until I realize it’s too absurd to be true.

  Reese: Like hell, bossman, and you don’t need a ride. You just wanted an excuse to text me.

  Nick: Whatever you want to believe.

  He attaches a gif of a man running around, hysterically trying to fan out the flames in his pants.

  Liar-liar.

  Laughing, I put the phone down.

  Paige leans over and places her hands under Millie’s small hands, helping her mold the clay. “What’s he saying now?”

  “Oh, he just might need a ride later. Nothing too important. Just business.”

  “That was a lot of grinning for boring business,” Paige throws back.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Push your thumb in the center of the ball and then wiggle it around to make a hole, okay?” she tells Millie.

  Millie giggles, jabbing one hand into the top of the whole lump. “It’s squishy.”

  “Is it fun?” Paige asks her.

  “Yeah!”

  I smile at Paige. Thank God for friends like her.

  “You and Ward are going to be awesome parents,” I say.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  It’s true and kind of amazing considering the type of parents the brothers had.

  Deep down, I know Nick will make an amazing father, too. The way he’s so attentive with Millie is impossible to miss.

  I really shouldn’t have gone off on him the way I did yesterday. It’s just embarrassing, needing so much help from my boss, and I wasn’t wrong when I said we’re from two different worlds.

  Still, I have to make it better to soothe my own conscience.

  He’s not mad, but it doesn’t excuse my big mouth.

  “You’re awfully quiet over there.
What’s cracking?” Paige asks.

  “Well...I may have been rude to one of my bosses yesterday and it’s bothering me. I think I should apologize. Umm—apologize again, I mean.”

  “Nick made you put your foot in your mouth, huh?” She flashes me that famous Holly grin.

  Her last name might’ve changed to Brandt, but she’ll always be a Holly at heart. There’s a reason her cousin, Milah, is this big pop star singer known around the world.

  “Nick the Prick is my friend!” Millie says.

  I level a stern look on her. “Amelia Halle, I told you to never say that again.”

  “It rhymes, Auntie Reese,” she insists, like that excuses everything.

  “Find another rhyme.”

  Paige doubles over laughing.

  “I see you’ve taught her well.” Her eyes move to Millie. “You and Nick are friends, huh?”

  “Yee! He showed me dollhouses he makes before the big house, and when Miss Tiffany gets cranky he lets me go slide.”

  That’s the first I’ve heard about this.

  “Miss Tiffany is cranky?” I ask.

  “She makes me write my name and ABCs in my notebook, and...and I don’t like it one bit!”

  “Oh, my. That’s a hard life,” I say, sharing a knowing look with Paige.

  Paige smiles at me. “Well, if you need to see Nick to talk this out, you know where he lives. But you seem fine to me.”

  Maybe, but she doesn’t know how low I hit him.

  “Although, if you’re going to go over to apologize, you might want to find a new nickname for Millie first.”

  I roll my eyes. “We need a new rhyme. I’ve been playing around with Nick the Trick but it just doesn’t sound quite right.”

  I push my tongue in my cheek. I also don’t need a reminder that he could nail the part of evil magician in any big fantasy film with that build, that smirk, and that agonizing hint of what he could do on a long, dark night.

  “Good luck with that,” she says to me before turning to Millie. “Okay, I think our pot’s looking good. Do you want to paint it?”

  “Yeah!” Millie squeals.

  Paige takes a plastic bag filled with assorted paints out of a drawer and hands it to Millie with a small brush.

  My eyes go to Millie’s light-pink jumper. I know Paige is trying to help, but I don’t want to have to buy new clothes on top of everything else.

  Paige’s gaze follows my eyes. “Oh, shoot, maybe we should get a smock first. What do you think, Millie?”

  “’Kay!” She follows Paige to a coat rack filled with smocks and lets Paige help her into one before she returns to her creation.

  “So, do you think it’d be weird for an employee to show up at their boss’ place to talk about something that happened at work?” I ask.

  Paige smirks. “Given all the other factors? Nah. Quit second-guessing and do it. Now help me set up for my next class real quick.”

  “Quick...that’s it,” I say, snapping my fingers.

  “What’s it?” Paige blinks at me.

  “Millie, we call him Quick Nick now, okay?” I smile. Because there’s no denying how quick he’s come running to my rescue.

  “Quick Nick! It rhymes.” Millie smiles at me, looking up from her project.

  “Lucky girl. You found one after all,” Paige says.

  “Yeah, if you’re going to denigrate your boss, you can’t do it in front of a kid who repeats everything like a little parrot.”

  Paige picks up bags of clay and hands me half of them.

  “You start here, and I’ll start at the back of the room.”

  “Got it.”

  Once each chair has a bag of clay, paper towel, and paper plate, I grab Millie and we leave. On the way back to the car, I keep turning over the new Nick-name.

  And yes, my blood heats when I imagine whether or not it’s true in the bedroom.

  With all the rumors, all the scandals, all the salacious hints about him...I’m guessing that’s a big fat no.

  I wish I could stop there.

  Because by the time I’m behind the wheel again with Millie in her car seat, I’m worried.

  What if Quick Nick lives up to his name in other ways?

  What if he’s already pouncing on my heart, bringing me down like a rabbit in a tiger’s grasp?

  14

  Make Yourself At Home (Nick)

  My coffee table is covered in photos.

  I sit on the floor over an album I’m arranging. The internet is only a fun place to keep photos if no one knows who you are. Otherwise, you’re cannon fodder for every superficial shithead on Earth who wants to fling their two cents at your life.

  Been there. Done that. No fucking thanks.

  With the pictures that matter, I’m old-school.

  Photography—whether it’s taking pictures or staring back at them—has always lowered my blood pressure, and I’ve neglected my little hobby for too long. It’s obvious from how old some of the pictures are.

  There’s a photo of me with Ward, both of us wearing Santa hats in front of a tall Christmas tree decked out like a neon-gold dream. He just started middle school and I’m still finishing elementary.

  Grandpa stands behind him, giving the camera that life-loving smile I miss, and I’m in Grandma’s lap.

  Our parents? Nowhere to be found.

  As usual.

  When I come across an even older picture, I smile. It was a stand-off with Ward in Maui, at our grandparents’ place. We’re already soaked from hurling water balloons at each other.

  I remember winning that day. I could dodge the balloon bombs faster and Ward’s aim sucked.

  Then there’s a picture of us in our dress uniforms. He was almost out of the military then, and I was following in his footsteps.

  That’s my life, following Ward’s lead.

  I shake my head and try not to dwell on it.

  I pick up another photo that makes me stop.

  Graduation day.

  I was out of the service for just over a year, finishing a double degree in business and architecture. I had so many credits from classes in the Navy, I went through it like lightning.

  I tuck it back in the album and grab another.

  A picture from the “fake date” Reese and I went on, seconds before we kissed.

  Shit. I forgot I ever printed this off my cloud storage.

  Its elegance is enhanced by the black and white filter. Though the classy look has nothing to do with the scene, and everything to do with her.

  She’s so gorgeous it makes me throb, and she looks too comfortable with my arms around her—right before Carmen blew everything to kingdom come.

  For a moment, we were smiling, entranced, our lips thrumming with a violent magnetism as they connected.

  She melted so sweet for me, her whimpers like wine, my hands trailing to cup her ass.

  I know she felt the same spark I did.

  Like our date was real. Like lust would overwhelm us. Like for just one night, we were a true couple.

  And maybe we would’ve been, if the bitch who won’t take no for an answer hadn’t lost her mind.

  Pain daggers through me. I knew what might happen the instant I showed up with Reese.

  If I cared, if I was man enough to guard her heart, I never should’ve subjected her to it.

  The joys of being Nick fucking Brandt.

  The past never dies. There’s never any shortage of brand-new ways to detonate my life. Always with collateral damage.

  The intercom chimes, ripping me from my thoughts.

  “Mr. Brandt?” a gruff voice asks.

  “Yeah?” I say.

  “There’s a Reese Halle here. She’s asking to be buzzed up.”

  Why would Reese be here?

  “Send her up,” I tell the front desk.

  Damn. I hope Reese hasn’t had any new disasters.

  When I hear the knock, I fly over, damn near ripping it off its hinges.

  Reese shifts M
illie to her side and bites her lip. “Hi. I’m not sure if it’s okay to show up here out of the blue like this—”

  “It’s fine. Come inside.” Deep down, I’m glad as hell she’s here.

  She nods but doesn’t move.

  “I just wanted to apologize. Again. Face to face. I’m so sorry for—”

  “For what? I told you, it’s forgotten,” I snap off, more harshly than I mean to.

  She gives her head a small shake, looking at me pensively.

  Her lips have the opposite effect. If the kid weren’t here, I might hurl caution to the wind.

  It would be too easy to close the space between us and reclaim that ripe strawberry of a mouth with my teeth.

  “For the way I talked to you when you offered to go to Abby’s with me,” she answers.

  I fold my arms, leveling a stare. “You’ve already apologized for that several times. It was no big deal. I told you.”

  “But—”

  “Why don’t you come in?” I step back and wave a hand toward my living room.

  She nods nervously and follows me in, where she stops midstep.

  “Oh.” Her mouth drops open. “This place—it’s beautiful, Nick. I love your fireplace.”

  “I had it redesigned recently by my own crew. We filmed and photographed the entire thing. It’ll be showcased for Brandt Dreams.”

  “I can see why! It’s seriously breathtaking.” She repositions Millie for the second time.

  “You can put her down. Let the little lady stretch her legs,” I say.

  Reese surveys the room. “Um, everything here looks high-end. Expensive and pretty breakable.”

  I chuckle. “You worry too much. If she breaks something, I’ll make her work it off. Right, Millie?”

  She smiles like a cherub. “Yeahhh! I’ll clean the whole playroom!”

  “The whole room?” I return her smile. “That’s bold. You’ll have to sweep the floors, too.”

  Her face wrinkles. “But...but the broom is bigger than me.”

  “We’ll compromise,” I assure her, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

  “You hear that? Be good for us.” Reese holds her up, resting her forehead on Millie’s. “I’ll put you down, but stay away from the fireplace. No running, no jumping, and no flippies of any kind, okay? Your feet stay planted on the ground and you move slowly.”