Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Another minute of awkward silence passes. We all sit down at a table just inside the door. Millie climbs in Reese’s lap. Reese is beside me, and Will sits across from us.

  “I’m sorry about Abby,” Will says with a cough.

  “Yeah, you’ve said that,” Reese says with an edge in her voice.

  “So how long has she been in jail?” he asks.

  “A couple weeks now. I’m starting to lose track,” Reese tells him.

  Will stares at her. “And Millie, she’s been staying with you?”

  “Yep.” Reese leans back in her seat like she’s being tortured.

  “Well, thanks for taking care of her. That must’ve been real hard on you. Are you not working?”

  “Actually, my bossman hired her a nanny. Millie’s getting a good education while I work. She’s in great hands.”

  He leans back, grins, and looks at me as it dawns on him.

  “Wait. You’re her boss, huh? Oh, yeah.” He grins wider, his eyes drifting to Reese’s chest. “I see why you got her a nanny.”

  Yeah. I’m about to drag this fuckwit to the parking lot and use him to patch potholes.

  “Because my employee had a personal emergency and couldn’t do her job without adequate childcare? That’s what you mean, right?” I growl, unable to temper my voice.

  He chuckles sarcastically. “Like you couldn’t find some other schmuck to drive you around...”

  “Considering the nanny was hired for your child, while no one knew your whereabouts, I think the appropriate response might be 'thank you,'” Reese says.

  I smile at her.

  “Sure,” Will says. “Thanks.”

  I nod.

  He looks at Reese. “So, Millie’s been staying at your place? Have you cleared Abby’s stuff out of the apartment yet? Guessing she’s gonna be in the pen for a good long while.”

  “It’s way too early for that kind of guessing—especially out loud,” Reese snaps, glancing at Millie in warning. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Depending on how this plays out, I might need a storage unit, but who knows.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll go over there myself in the next couple of days and clear it,” Frisk volunteers, far too quickly. “Probably all sorts of crap for Millie still there. How about I save you some work? For looking after my peanut, I mean.”

  I’m glaring.

  Reese stiffens at my side. Her hand feels like plastic when I reach for it under the table.

  “No. Not necessary. She’s my sister, and you’ve been...not the closest for a few years,” Reese says.

  “Aw, c’mon. She’s still my girl and we’ve got a kid. You don’t need to be responsible for her no more,” he snarls.

  “Will, you’re not around much,” Reese says quietly. “Abby and I have always looked out for each other. If you were with her, you’d know that. It doesn’t change now just because you showed up this week.”

  His face goes red, and I lose it. His temper comes on like someone flicking a switch.

  “Fuck, you talk like I’m some kinda deadbeat loser! I was gone working, on a jobsite, lady. Do I gotta get a goddamned lawyer to show you I’m serious?”

  Dude. Your kid wouldn’t even go to you. Save it for someone who’s buying it.

  Also, he’s t-minus five seconds from me putting him in a headlock and dragging him out of this coffee shop.

  “Maybe you should,” Reese says, squeezing my hand, undaunted. “We need to work out a custody arrangement. Abby mentioned she doesn’t want you having Millie—at least not full time. That’s why I asked you to meet me here.”

  “You’re shitting me,” he huffs, his eyes flicking to Millie, who stirs restlessly in Reese’s arms.

  Every alarm in my body blares. She didn’t even want to hug him. He’ll leave with this kid tonight over my dead fucking body.

  “Excuse me?” Reese asks.

  “You work for him so you can’t be stupid. Abby and I got joint custody. With her in jail, I’m Millie’s guardian. I don’t need a lawyer to know that,” he spits.

  Reese tightens her arms around the kid, a defiant gleam in her eyes.

  “Millie’s staying with me until further notice. It’s what Abby wants.”

  “Abby’s in fuckin’ jail,” he snarls back. Then he tilts his head up, exhaling all over us, and does a miserable job of faking calm. “Look. Look, I’d do anything for Abby and Millie. They’re my girls. You know that, but a kid belongs with its parents. If Abby can’t take care of her because she’s incarcerated, Millie oughta be with me.”

  “She’s staying with Reese,” I say, jabbing each word at him.

  He doesn’t acknowledge me.

  “The fuck is your boss even involved with this? Are you stupid?”

  “Because your daughter doesn’t flinch when she hugs me,” I cut in. “And I don’t know your ex-girlfriend, but I’ll do anything I can for her because I care about her sister and her kid. Stop being a dipshit.”

  “Or what?” Frisk laughs. “You gonna take me out back and ruin your manicure, boy?”

  I stiffen, forming a fist.

  “You say to-may-toe, we say to-mah-toe. I think we agree Reese will be sorting Abby’s things and clearing the apartment if necessary. Millie will stay with Reese in the meantime. I’m glad we got this sorted out.” I meet Reese’s eyes. “You ready?”

  She sighs. “Yeah, I think I’m good. Thanks. It was a productive meeting.”

  “We haven’t settled shit. This has nothing to do with you. You’re making a big mistake!” Frisk barks in my face, raising his voice. Millie buries her face in Reese’s chest, clearly afraid.

  Enough.

  “No mistake.” I lean forward. “If it involves Reese, it matters to me.”

  “I never agreed she could keep my kid and you know it. You leave with Millie and we’re gonna have a problem.”

  “Then get a court decree and an attorney. I’ll be waiting with mine.” I nod at Reese, motioning to her to head for the door. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  I stand and start for the door. Reese is on my heels holding Millie.

  “This is my kid we’re talking about!” Frisk roars, running up behind Reese. “You think I’m gonna take this and let you pull one over on me?”

  I stop in my tracks.

  The coffee shop is mostly deserted, but the gaggle of baristas and customers are staring.

  I’m not sure how far this guy wants to go, or if he’s crazy enough to start throwing punches in public. Regardless, he’s sure as hell not touching Reese or the kid.

  “My place on Saturday mornings with a security team present,” I bite off. “There’s your custody agreement.”

  “Fuck you, you—” He stops mid-sentence, red as a beet, grabbing at Millie’s arm.

  The little girl lets out a piercing wail. Reese moves swiftly, prying his grimy hand off her with a quick spin he doesn’t expect.

  In a flash, I’m moving, throwing myself in front of them and blocking the ogre-fuck. My phone’s already in my hand.

  “What are you doing?” Frisk growls.

  “Calling the police to see if they can verify your custody paperwork. Also, reporting you for attempted kidnapping and child endangerment,” I snap.

  For a second, he straightens like an angry black bear. Then, slowly, he holds his hands up, his eyes going wide like he didn’t expect this.

  “Wait.” Emotion laces his face, fear and hot rage mingling, before he exhales. “I was just going, asshole...”

  I lower my phone.

  “Good. Also, don’t bother showing up for visitation. You won’t see this kid without a court order and a cop to enforce it now. Glad we could chat.”

  “She’ll hate you both for taking her daddy away,” he growls.

  “I think I can live with a four-year-old not liking me if it means protecting her from a fat snake. I’m not a parent, but here’s a piece of advice my grandpa always told me—if you’re doing your job right, your kids won’t li
ke you. If they do, you’re not enforcing the rules.” I pause. “Reese, head for the car.”

  I reach into my pocket and unlock the car. I also want to make sure I’m between them.

  She heads out, and I wait in front of the door, watching Frisk storm away toward the restroom. I don’t move until she’s got Millie securely in her car seat.

  By the time I catch up with them, her hand slides into mine, and she gives me a quick, but ferocious hug.

  “You’re amazing. Thank you, Nick. Thank you.”

  “I forgot something. I said you could drive,” I tell her, refusing to be showered with praise for doing what any man with a pair should.

  “That’s sweet, but...right now, I kinda just want to go home and never wake up,” she says, sniffling, the delayed adrenaline overwhelming her.

  “Reese, I don’t know what he’s capable of, but he’s creepy as hell. I’d rather have you and Millie stay with me tonight.” What the hell am I saying?

  I’ve lost my last marble in that scrum with Frisk. Still, I can’t sleep and risk something happening to Reese or Millie at her place. She’s got nothing but two flimsy locks between them and the outside world there.

  “Your place?” Her eyes go wide. “Are you sure?”

  A smile breaks across my face. There’s something so innocent about this girl.

  It’s hard not to kiss her again, here, even with her niece in the back seat.

  “I need you safe.” My voice comes out gravelly. “Plus, I know you’ll sleep better if you’re somewhere Will Frisk never has a prayer of breaking into.”

  Her smile says I’m right.

  It’s all the encouragement I need as we climb in the car.

  I just wish my brain wasn’t already spinning with possibilities, imagining everything but sleep with this woman under my roof.

  17

  Spilling Psketti (Reese)

  “Nick, I don’t think it’s a good idea. If anyone finds out I’m staying with you there’ll be rumors and—” I start.

  “That creep tried to grab Millie. I couldn’t care less if it costs me another hit piece. Does he know where you live?” He looks at me, his eyes in flames.

  I swallow. “No.”

  I don’t think so, but then again, I didn’t think he had my number...

  “You’re sure? Are you willing to bet Millie’s safety on it? Would Abby have ever written your address down anywhere?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want people to think I’m—er, sleeping with my boss,” I whisper. “Because obviously I’m not—not in a million years.”

  My legs shift together as I say it.

  Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either.

  He takes my hand and hooks his fingers through mine. “If there are rumors, I’ll deal with them. If they’re coming from outside the office, I’ll ram a lawsuit right down Osprey’s throat. You only win if it isn’t true, and I will win. I don’t want to harm your reputation either, but it makes the most sense. Your safety and Millie’s outweighs my drama.”

  “We’ve been okay at my place,” I say, my eyes drifting over him.

  He’s cut like a statue, especially when he’s all growly and overprotective. Those shoulders, those abs, those pistons for hips.

  I have zero doubt that Nick Brandt is an absolute beast behind that suit, and it’s shameful that I’m worried I’ll never have a chance to find out.

  “The idiot said he was out of town. Who knows what’s true, but now that you’re on his radar—you need a safer place to crash,” he insists.

  Maybe he’s right. Even if he isn’t, good luck saying no to those molten green eyes.

  Also, I have a promise to keep. I swore I wouldn’t let Frisk get Millie.

  The only person protecting this kid is me, and my enigma of a boss. Until Abby gets back to being a mom, the choices I make have to be for Millie first, and they have to keep her secure.

  “Okay, you win,” I say.

  “Should we swing by your place and get clothes first?”

  “It’s just one night, right? We can change clothes before work in the morning.”

  “Might need multiple nights. I want to keep you close until Will winds up in jail or gets launched into the sun. Whatever they’re doing to incinerate trash these days.”

  I snicker.

  “That could take a while. And it must be pretty tough getting one of those rockets to the sun, knowing your woes,” I whisper.

  “You mean Roland. Forget him.” His eyes twitch with irritation.

  “Well, and Carmen.” Why do I say it out loud? Her existence annoys me to no end when it’s none of my business.

  “Let’s go get your clothes,” he says, ignoring the fact that I named his ex.

  Oof. I don’t even know what to make of that, but my boss’ love life really is none of my business, right? Right?

  It doesn’t take long to get to my apartment. He parks in front of my door, outclassing every car in the lot.

  “You should probably wait,” I say nervously. “Um, if we’re up there for more than ten minutes, your car might get picked apart and sold for parts when we get back.”

  He throws his head back and laughs.

  God, that glorious smile turns me into a puddle.

  “I’m only partly joking,” I warn, wagging a finger.

  “You’ve parked the Lincoln here before, haven’t you?”

  “Rarely. I try to park down the street at a private garage if I’m in the area for a while with the company car. I pay for the parking. It’s cheaper than replacing a whole town car.”

  “I should’ve abducted you a long time ago,” he grumbles.

  I undo my seatbelt and open the car door. “Can Millie stay with you? It’ll be easier if—”

  “Millie, you want to hang out in the car with me?” He says before I can finish, turning around to face her.

  “Can we play music?” Millie asks, her eyes wide.

  “Yep. Satellite radio’s got everything from Italian opera to the Disney station, and I know your pick.” He picks up his phone and fidgets with it. “You should go. Millie and I are jamming.”

  I burst out laughing, shaking my head as I get out while the music starts.

  What is happening to my life?

  Millie never knew Nick until recently, yet she’s smiling every time he shows up. She’s fallen hard and fast and...ugh.

  So have I.

  I try to fight back the butterflies while I collect our things in a couple suitcases and run back downstairs. When Nick steps out to put the bags in the trunk, Millie squeals after him.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, minus you interrupting her groove. I think you can make it up to her if you join in the next singalong,” he says, smiling with his eyes.

  I don’t know whether to be mortified or delighted that my boss wants to hear me sing to a four-year-old. Either way, I don’t resist when I’m back in the car, and we jam half the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack all the way to his place.

  * * *

  Nick’s penthouse still paralyzes me with its perfection.

  No, it doesn’t matter that this is my second visit.

  “Your place is a palace,” I whisper, inhaling whatever it is that makes it smell so good here. I realize a second later that something is him.

  Yikes.

  “You complimented it enough the last time you were here,” he says.

  “Well, no matter how many times I see it, I’ll never get used to this.”

  “Glad you like it. I’ll show you the guest rooms so you can unpack.”

  Guest rooms. Plural.

  He shows me a room lined with gold and modern slate-greys that opens into a bathroom from a luxury traveler’s wet dream.

  “I think you get the idea,” he says. “I have a more elegant guest room connected to the balcony, but I thought this would be perfect for you two. It’s a little smaller, easier to look in on Millie.”

  “It’s perfect. She shared
a room with her mom, and I’ve been letting her stay in mine. I’m sure she’ll like it here.”

  He nods. “Make yourselves at home. I want you both comfortable here.”

  I smile at him so hard I could break.

  “Thank you. Again.”

  He looks at Millie, who’s running down the hall, flapping her hands like a hummingbird. We step out, and Nick blocks her path, leaning down.

  “Careful, little lady, you don’t want a scraped knee. What sounds good for dinner?”

  “Psketti and meatballs!” Millie says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  I expect him to look at me to translate.

  Instead, he just laughs in that masculine rumble that vibrates through me like thunder.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs it is.” He turns to look at me. “Hope you’re cool with that since two out of three votes are in.”

  “Totally,” I say, clasping my hands.

  I may be facing hell, but right now, with this man, my heart runneth over.

  Millie grins and claps her hands.

  I put away our things, plop Millie down in the living room, and get her settled in front of some cartoons before I find Nick in the kitchen.

  He’s chopping vegetables on his kitchen island. There’s already a sheet of plump, delicious-smelling meatballs rolled up and waiting to be baked.

  “Whoa, dude. You make spaghetti the hard way,” I say.

  “You know a better way? It was one of my Grandpa Godfrey’s favorite recipes. I learned from a master,” he says, pointing two fingers at his eyes and then at me. “Never half-ass psketti night, Reese. House rule.”

  I laugh. “When I make spaghetti, it involves heating a jar of sauce and calling it a day. Maybe frying up some ground beef and onions in a pan, if I’m feeling adventurous.”

  He shakes his head.

  “The horror. I should’ve had you both over for dinner a long time ago.”

  “In fairness, I’ve learned not to burn frozen nuggets and boxed mac and cheese quite well. I’ll catch up to you,” I say defiantly.

  “And I’ll teach you to make an omelet better than sex before you leave,” he promises.

  “Better than sex? Um...I’m going to need to taste that.” I turn away, blushing horribly, my eyes hiding nothing about what I’d really love to taste for comparison.