Boss Unyielding: A Secret Baby Office Romance (The Boss Series Book 1)
Page 8
In a thoughtless, momentary lapse, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight with gratitude. She quickly realized it was a mistake, and was going to let go and put some space between them, hopefully managing to play it off like it was a normal, casual thing, but before she could let him go, she felt his arms close in around her body and press her close to him.
She pulled back to look into his face, searching for answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask, and he stared back, seeming to be searching for answers from her, too.
She stole herself away and out of his grasp and looked down to the floor with embarrassment. “Sorry, I got a little over-excited.” She peeked up at him through her inky lashes and a smile creeped across her face.
He chuckled and straightened the frames that rested on the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s get started.”
They got right to work, diving into the fine details of the project. They worked straight through lunch and had Chinese take-out delivered in. Part of the day, Farren spent going over some of the system Rayner had already been working on, and part of the day she got his input on how he needed some areas reworked.
She felt alive again for the first time in weeks, and she loved it. It seemed like they would still be able to work together without things being too weird between them, even if the sight, smell, and sound of him were like a hypnotic siren’s call to her entire system. This could be doable.
As they left late that evening, he offered to walk her out since it was dark by then. She would just need to wait for him to lock up. She wasn’t going to turn the offer down, so she waited with him, and it didn’t take long before they were walking out together.
She tried not to read too much into it when his hand went to the small of her back as they walked out the exit together, letting it linger there, awakening all the nerve-endings in her body and lighting them each on fire. She was hyper-aware of him, and she hated herself for it.
As soon as they got out the door, though, the cold night air wasn’t the only thing that struck Farren into silence. She saw someone parked next to her car, and he got out as soon as he saw Farren emerge from the building. He had been waiting for her.
“Paul?” she said in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he answered, and looked from Farren to her boss, who had dropped his hand away from her upon noticing they were no longer alone.
Farren looked up at Rogan and saw a hint of skepticism behind his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, quiet and tense.
“Um, yes, it’s okay. I know him,” she said.
Rogan nodded and then walked around his truck to leave.
“Oh! Don’t forget I’ll be in late tomorrow,” she called to him before he climbed in to the cab of the vehicle.
He nodded, acknowledging what she had said, then waved before his truck roared to life and he backed out to leave.
Damn-it, Paul, your timing sucks, she thought to herself, turning to face him.
“What’s up, Paul? What do you need?” She said with more than a little impatience.
“I just wanted to talk. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you at the party this weekend,” he said, moving in close to her.
She took a step back and held a hand up to him to stop him in his tracks.
“Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there. For one, you were at that party with your new girlfriend, or did you forget?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s nobody, seriously.”
Farren rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You were the one who wanted to break up, Paul, remember?” She started moving toward her Chevy Spark, bringing her keys out to unlock the doors.
“I never said I wanted to break up. I just said I wanted to take a break,” he corrected, following closely behind her.
“Really? You’re going to try to play that card? I’m not stupid. I know what saying you want to take a break means. I moved on. You should, too,” she told him, and clicked the keyless entry button to unlock her doors. She reached for the door handle, but he stopped her, grabbing her arms and pulling her toward him.
“Come on, don’t be like that, baby. We had a good thing.” He tried to reach up to touch her face, but she batted his hand away.
“Seriously, Paul, if you don’t take your hands off me, you’re going to be pulling your nuts out of your abdomen while you watch me drive out of here,” she warned.
She wasn’t afraid of Paul. She knew he didn’t mean any harm, he was just an idiot. She really couldn’t even fault him for that. She faulted herself for falling for him like she did a year ago, but it wasn’t like she had anything better going for her at that time. She knew now that he had done her a favor by breaking up with her, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“Thank you,” she said when he pulled back and put some space between them. “Look, I appreciate you coming out here and trying to clear the air, and all. It took a lot of guts for you to do that. But really, I’m fine with how things are now, and you should be, too.”
She wasn’t mean enough to tell him he would never measure up to the type of man she’d gotten a taste of since him. She would let him figure that out in his own time if he ever would. She gave him a pity pat on the shoulders, then a pity smile, and got into her car to leave.
Driving home that night, she felt somehow like she was leaving a part of her life behind her. It didn’t feel like a bad thing, but it felt strange. She hadn’t thought of Paul for quite some time now, so that couldn’t be it.
Her thoughts trailed to Mr. Rayner, and she let herself imagine how the night could have ended had Paul not shown up. Of course it wouldn’t have been anything like she fantasized about, but a girl could dream.
For the first time in weeks, she went to bed that night with something to look forward to for the following day. After she took Gramma to a doctor’s appointment in the morning, she would be back in the office, basking in the nearness of Rogan Rayner. Damn, this was not healthy, but damn-it if she cared at the moment.
SIXTEEN
His hand raked across the day-old stubble at his jaw as he sat at the bar of Elaina’s, an upscale lounge owned by its namesake, Elaina Evans. He’d spent too much time over the past ten years in this place, but it compensated for the insomnia he would undoubtedly battle in his Worthington District condo.
Maybe all that bullshit they called research was right, and it was the lights of all the technology surrounding him in his smart home that kept him from sleeping at night. Or maybe it really was bullshit, and it was the demons that took up residence in his head space that kept him from being able to tolerate the dark, unending silence that haunted him at the end of each day.
That was probably the more likely culprit, he guessed, taking another sip of his vodka on the rocks from the cool, clear tumbler he held. He reveled in the smooth burn that trailed down his throat.
“One of those nights, Rogan?” Elaina observed from the other side of the bar.
It wasn’t often he saw her here in her own bar, but he always enjoyed her company on the rare occasions she made an appearance.
He smiled, looking down at his glass, and nodded his affirmation.
“You know me too well,” he said, looking up into the face that looked strikingly similar to the biggest demon of all – her brother, Craigan.
Then again, her second brother, Dallas Evans, could be likened to an actual demon, the biblical kind instead of the metaphorical kind. She bared a small resemblance to him, as well, but nothing close to her likeness to his once closest friend, Craigan.
Elaina nodded in mock disapproval. “When will you ever learn?”
She pulled two tumblers from behind the bar, scooped a few cubes of ice into each, and poured another round without being asked. She slid one across the bar in front of him, and picked up the second one, bringing it to her lips for a sip.
“Probably never. You know I’m a stubborn bastard,” he said,
raising his original glass to down the remainder of the clear, burning liquid, and sliding it across to her before grabbing the fresh one in his hand.
“All too well,” she agreed, letting a grin spread across her pretty but world-weary face.
“You looking for a companion for the night, or just avoiding going home?” she asked, straightening the straw containers and salt and lime trays in front of her as though her distracted actions might put him at ease enough to open up a little.
“Is that a question, or a proposition?” he asked, teasingly.
“Not on your life, brother,” she retorted, giving him a mischievous smile.
She had been like a sister to him, for as long as he could remember, and that connection was only strengthened when Craigan…
He let the thought trail off, unwilling to bring up old ghosts. Not tonight.
He blew out a deep sigh, raking his hands through his hair now. He knew why he was there, and finding a companion for the night was the last thing on his mind. Not that ‘for the night’ would have even been the right term. No one ever made it that far. No one ever stayed the night, and that’s how he liked it.
No one except for her.
His thoughts were drug back to that one night, that singular light in the sea of darkness that consumed his life. The night he had broken through the barriers of their boss-employee relationship and held her, taken her, pushed her delicate body past limitations she had never known existed.
That night had been the first night for as long as he could remember that he fell asleep with a sense of peace he had almost forgotten existed. But when he had woken, she was gone.
“Neither,” he finally answered, and he was thankful when she didn’t pry. He knew she could always sense the kind of mood he was in, and could always handle him like no one else could. This woman was a saint, and God, he loved her for it.
He sure as hell didn’t want to admit why he was really here. After spending weeks, agonizing fucking weeks of avoiding Farren, he had finally gotten the opportunity he’d been waiting for. A project no one else in his company was capable of handling with the level of skill and finesse that she was notorious for.
It was all he could do to wait until she had arrived that morning to offer the project to her, for them to work on together. What was worse, nothing turned him on more than seeing the cogs in her mind at work. Her intelligence was a fucking aphrodisiac like he’d never known, and fuck how young she was. No woman his age or even older had held a candle to this young woman’s mind that she was so modest about.
Then he had walked her out that night to find some hormone-ridden, young fuck waiting for her. Now, here he was, with a lot of thinking to do.
Elaina bent down to lean her elbows on the bar across from him, catching his attention.
“Where’d you go?” she asked. “You looked like you were a million miles away just now. Is something bothering you?”
He sat quietly, pensive, for a moment.
What the hell, he thought.
“You ever want something that was so off-limits, you knew you’d be fucked the moment you held it in your hands?”
She nodded. “Maybe… but Rogan, when have limits ever been able to stop you?”
Yep, she knew him too god-damned well.
He was quiet for a while, so she rose from the bar and went back to her busy work, pouring another drink when he had finished the one before it.
After a while, she walked around the counter and sat on the stool next to him. “I was visiting his grave the other day,” she said, quietly.
He tried to swallow a knot down that had formed in his throat at the mention of her words.
“I see,” he said.
“You’ve been there, too.” She knew he had. It wasn’t a question, but an observation.
“How do you know?”
“Who else would leave a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch at the foot of a gravestone?” she accused.
And he was guilty as charged.
Fuck, he thought. Between the ghost of Craigan and the ghost of Farren haunting his thoughts tonight, he knew he’d need several more drinks if he was going to get any sleep.
SEVENTEEN
Farren woke the following morning with plans to take Gramma to a doctor’s appointment. There was just one small problem. She had woken with a raging storm ravaging in her stomach. She was so nauseous, she could barely move for the way it would jostle her and set her off again.
She felt miserable.
“Farren, are you okay, dear?” Gramma called through the bathroom door.
She had to pull it together. She knew Gramma was depending on her, so she would have to somehow get control of herself.
“Yes, I’m okay, Gramma. I’ll be out…”
She was cut off by another violent heave.
“I’ll be right out,” she clamored.
She couldn’t tell if Gramma was still outside the door or not, but didn’t hear a response. She stood and splashed water on her face, rinsed her mouth, and leaned against the bathroom wall where she could see herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were red and splotchy, but underneath, she was as pale as a reanimated zombie.
Thinking the worst was behind her, she finally opened the bathroom door to see Gramma approaching with a small glass of light-green liquid.
She handed it to Farren with shaky hands. “Here, drink this,” she ordered.
Farren took the glass and brought the liquid up for a sniff, crinkling her nose in disgust. “What is it?”
“Pickle juice,” Gramma answered, as though this was the most normal choice of beverages in the world.
Farren gave a skeptical look, but Gramma was insistent. “Go on, then. It will help settle your stomach.”
She was still unsure, but Gramma had never led her astray before and always seemed to know the perfect remedy for every other situation. She brought the juice up to her mouth and took a sip.
It was sour, and her face puckered for a moment while her taste buds acclimated to it, but she drank it down as she was told.
“There, now,” Gramma said, taking the empty glass and heading back toward the kitchen.
Farren followed.
“Thanks, Gramma. I don’t know what came over me. It must be something I ate,” she guessed, but noticed her stomach really was starting to feel a little better.
She went to get dressed, pulled her long, brown hair up in a messy bun, and accompanied Gramma out to the car. They drove to Gramma’s appointment.
It was some routine blood work Gramma needed to check how her medications were doing, but taking her blood for these appointments always made her feel faint afterwards, so Farren didn’t mind accompanying her.
Once they arrived at the doctor’s office, they were called back to one of the rooms to wait first for the nurse and eventually the doctor.
Farren’s nausea decided to make its appearance again, just as the nurse had entered the room. Farren shot across the small space in front of the nurse, nearly knocking the poor woman down, in an effort to get herself to the trashcan in time.
She barely made it and she lurched once more. Her entire body heaved bile into the waste bucket.
“Are you all right?” the nurse asked in a surprised voice.
Farren tried to nod yes, but was interrupted by another wave of vomit sprouting up from within her.
The nurse ran a cup of water and handed it to Farren along with a tissue.
“Thanks. I’m really sorry,” Farren said in a small voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“That’s okay, hon,” the nurse consoled. “We’ve all been there. I had to deal with that for seven months straight when I was pregnant with my son.”
Farren sat back in a chair next to Gramma. “I just hope I’m not contagious. Is there anything you can give my Gramma while she’s here to keep her from catching this?” she suggested.
“We can check with the doctor once he gets in here,” said the nurse.
When they left the doctor’s office, they got back into Farren’s car and started to head home. She wondered if she could make it to work now, or if she should call in sick.
She didn’t want to miss work, but she also didn’t want Rogan seeing her in that state, either, if her stomach decided to hold her hostage again.
“Interesting theory the nurse had, wasn’t it?” Gramma said, breaking the silence in the car as they drove.
“What do you mean?” Farren asked, unsure of what Gramma was referring to. She could see Gramma watching her in her peripheral vision.
“Do you think you could be pregnant?” Gramma asked, so calm and direct.
“What? No! No, that’s crazy,” Farren said, but the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wasn’t so sure it was crazy.
She began mentally calculating when her last time-of-the-month had been, and couldn’t really recall. It wasn’t something she had ever been too meticulous about keeping track of because, well, it had never really mattered all that much.
Suddenly, she found herself thinking it mattered – a lot! She raced through her memories, trying like hell to remember having it since she’d returned from the trip to Italy, but… nothing.
She barely maintained any conversation on the rest of the car ride back to the apartment, answering questions on auto-pilot that Gramma was asking.
Once they got home, she changed into something she could wear to work, but when she left the house again, she didn’t go straight to Rayner Technologies. She took a detour and stopped at a Walgreens just down the road from her apartment, went inside, and came back out with a box of First Response pregnancy tests.
She already had a sinking feeling she knew what these things were going to read, and she hoped like hell she was wrong.