The Office Rival: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Kat T. Masen

  With a smug look, he pries further. “What was I doing in the dream?”

  “Stop playing dumb. I don’t need to spell it out for you. It’s awkward, and I really don’t want to discuss it further.”

  With a wide cocky grin, he licks his lips before asking, “Was I at least good?”

  Still in his suit with his shirt partially unbuttoned and flashing me his tanned skin, I realize my strong will can only be pushed so far.

  “Have some faith in yourself, Jerk. Yes, you were. Totally sweeping this convo under the rug now,” I mumble.

  With a sly smile, he leans in a little further. “I had a similar dream that night.”

  I almost spit out my drink and choke on the liquid stuck in my throat. I cough involuntarily until Haden realizes I need assistance and pats me on the back repeatedly. “You okay?”

  I nod, embarrassed he thinks I am this affected by his admission.

  “I don’t know what to say. This is really awkward.”

  “What else is there to say besides the fact we’re clearly attracted to each other?”

  I have no idea how to respond to this, mindful my cheeks are flushed and despite my eyes falling towards the floor, he can see there may be some truth to his admission. Panicking, I try to come up with something witty to say but nada.

  “Haden, I don’t think—”

  “Let me finish. It was bound to happen, and I blame curiosity,” he claims. “We both know it can’t happen.”

  My heart slightly sinks as he says the words which add salt to an exposed wound. Of course, it can’t happen—my emotions are running wild as usual. Tired of feeling like this, I lift my gaze as our eyes meet, his lingering stare causing my breath to hitch.

  “It can’t happen because you’re getting married.” There, I said it again. “Haden, we’ve got to stop playing these games.”

  He seems to acknowledge the truth, and although it hurts more than I thought it would, it has to come out. We have to focus on raising this baby. That will forever be our top priority.

  “I’ll stop playing these games on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  His eyes are practically dancing, and I subconsciously look around the room wondering why he is watching me this way. Under his stare, my cheeks flush, and my body temperature rises.

  “I want to kiss you. Just one kiss. Nothing more.”

  I laugh, thinking it’s a joke until his expression tells me to shut the fuck up because he is dead serious.

  “But you’re—”

  He doesn’t allow me to finish, moving his body close to mine and cupping my chin in his masculine hands. My uneven breaths are terrified and anticipating his next move. He runs his nose along my chin and moves his face slightly upward until his lips press gently onto mine.

  One kiss.

  That’s all.

  Just one little peck won’t hurt, right?

  I part my lips until our tongues meet midway and intertwine. With a slow and tantalizing pace, our lips move in sync, and the taste of him melts away at my body, reacting instantly.

  My hands mimic his and find their way to his chiseled cheekbones. We continue to kiss like this for what feels like forever, and much like high school, my jaw starts to get sore. With a final moan, we both slow the pace and pull away simultaneously.

  I look directly at his pants, a bad move since he’s obviously hard.

  We catch our breath, and suddenly, feeling shy, I struggle to look into his eyes, avoiding them until it’s impossible. Everything I see there is filled with forbidden feelings—lust, sex, desire, and maybe traces of something deeper. The silence deepens, and neither of us say a word for what feels like minutes.

  “See, it was just a kiss,” he insists, adjusting his pants.

  “Yep, just a kiss. A kiss that will never happen again.”

  “Never ever happen again. And that was the point I was trying to prove.”

  I turn to face him, and with curiosity, I ask, “You had a point to prove?”

  “Yes,” he quietly chokes. “The awkward part is over. No more curiosity. So, now we can be normal… be friends.”

  What planet is he on? Not the same horny planet I’m on, that’s for sure.

  “Okay, so we can be friends,” I say, unsure.

  “Great.” He claps his hands, surprising me. “So, what are you up to this weekend?”

  Really? We both just had the most intense kiss ever, and now this is what we are discussing? It’s such a bizarre reaction.

  “Just shopping for last-minute stuff for the baby, and that’s about it. You?”

  “Before I forget, my mom wants to meet you. Well, she’s been begging to meet you since I told her, but I think now’s the time.”

  “Okay…”

  “David wants me in L.A. next month for three weeks to manage the office while the senior editor is having an operation.”

  “David? Oh! Mr. Sadler, right?”

  “Then, I’ll be spending a week in Vegas for my bachelor party,” he adds.

  Whoa, rewind. Again, he gives me the most intense kiss only to tell me he’s going to party all week and probably get laid by a stripper.

  My blood rises, and that unusual bout of jealousy is consuming me. I stare at my feet, trying to control these fucked-up feelings. Don’t say anything, just keep it to yourself.

  “Strippers? Weren’t you the one who told me about fucking them or something?”

  He smiles softly and raises his hand to stroke my cheek. “I’d never do that to you.”

  My eyes dart to his, and he is seemingly unaware of the words he’s just spoken.

  “Don’t you mean Eloise?”

  His grin disappears, and suddenly he looks agitated. “Yes, I meant Eloise.”

  Silence falls between us, and when no more words are left to be said, I realize my feelings need a massive reality check.

  A fucking astronomical reality check.

  “So, I better be going. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

  Standing, he heads toward the door, and I follow. He turns to look at me one more time, but this time his eyes are heavily fixated on my lips. With my chest pounding hard, I pray my face isn’t flushed, showing how aroused I am and how much I want him to stay.

  “So, I guess it’s goodbye…” He speaks barely above a breath, unable to pull his focus away from my lips.

  Biting the corner of my mouth, I struggle to keep my hands by my side, itching to reach out and caress his face one more time. Finally, I return his smile, and just like that, he turns away and walks to the elevator. Urgently, I call the name my heart can no longer hold in.

  “Haden?”

  He turns back around, standing still in his perfect pose as my body aches for his beauty. His posture stands tall, showing off his masculine presence. His eyes are bewitching, and behind his frames, his beautiful, light brown eyes are capturing me, not wanting me to let go. But I have to because he doesn’t belong to me.

  “You’re going to make a great dad.”

  His beautiful face beams instantly. “Thank you. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  Walking away, I shut the door and run for my room. Lying on my bed, I raise my fingertips and run them along my sensitive lips as I close my eyes. Every sensation, every feeling of what happened only minutes ago, is ingrained in my memory. It’s all too much, and my heart can’t take it, terrified of the one thing I promised myself I would never do.

  I am falling in love with the Jerk.

  Nineteen

  The night Haden left my apartment, things changed in my head. I couldn’t get over the kiss we shared, and while his intention was to get it over and done with and eliminate that awkward tension between us, it had the exact opposite effect on me.

  I can’t stop thinking about him.

  I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

  As much as I try to talk myself into thinking it is the pregnancy, deep down, it’s gnawing at me. You know, that moment
when you look at someone in a different light, and all of a sudden you think to yourself, Holy shit, but that person’s been in front of me all along. It reminds me of my teenage years watching Dawson’s Creek. Nobody had a crush on Pacey, then all of a sudden Dawson became an afterthought, and Pacey was the guy everyone crushed on.

  Geez, you know you have loose marbles in your head when you’re comparing your adult life to Dawson’s Creek.

  As the weeks go on, we seem to get along better, never mentioning what happened between us. He is busy wrapping up parts of Fallen Baby before heading to L.A., and I am busy trying to get as much done as I possibly can and hand over any ongoing projects to Dee.

  I must admit, we get along much better since she started dating this sugar daddy. Not to mention, she is covered in bling.

  True to form, I made a list of all the things I need for the baby. After researching baby sites and emailing Lex’s wife, Charlie, back and forth, I have a pretty good idea of everything I need. She was extremely helpful, nice, and went out of her way to send me some stuff she hadn’t used—extra bits and pieces still new in their packaging. We talk long and hard about the need to attend Lamaze classes. Given that I am trying to limit my contact outside of work with Haden, I settled for a small intimate class for mothers without partners. It is refreshing to be surrounded by women in the same situation, even though the majority of them chose to be inseminated by an anonymous sperm donor.

  The day Haden is scheduled to fly out to L.A., I have officially hit thirty-one weeks. Now I am really a beached whale, uncomfortable everywhere, and the worst part is, I still have nine weeks to go.

  “Don’t go having that baby while I’m gone.” He chuckles.

  “I’ll stay away from the spicy food,” I joke.

  “And sex,” he adds with sarcasm.

  “Ha, ha… fat chance of that happening,” I mock. “So, Gemma tells me you guys are going to some surfing gig on the weekend?”

  “Yes. I can’t wait. The best in the world will be there.”

  “Well, give them a hug for me.”

  “The surfers?” he teases.

  I punch his arm, enjoying the relaxed conversation between us.

  “No! Gemma and Melissa.”

  He continues to smile, shutting down his computer and packing his things. He will be gone for four weeks, and I hate to admit that I’ll miss him.

  Yes, we get along much better.

  Yes, I try very hard to curb any feelings I have toward him.

  I am certain that once the baby comes, I will feel differently about him. I am certain everything that is consuming me now is because of the hormones. Take hormones out of the equation, and all he will be in my eyes is my child’s father.

  “Have a safe trip,” I say with a genuine smile.

  “I’ll text you once I’m there. Just take care of my baby, okay?”

  “Our baby,” I correct him.

  His face breaks out into a wide smile before he walks to the elevator and disappears.

  “Surprise!”

  I walk into the apartment, and there are balloons everywhere. Standing around are Kate, Vicky, Gemma, Melissa, Charlie, a couple of girls from the office, and my mom.

  Aside from the mint-green balloons floating in the room, there is a long table covered in finger food, and a giant stork sits in the middle of the room. Toward the left wall, another makeshift table stands with a ton of presents.

  “Happy baby shower,” Vicky and Kate sing in unison.

  I smile, still in shock, and walk around the room greeting everyone. It’s the first time I’m meeting Charlie in person, and just like in her photographs, she is beautiful. With long, wavy brown hair just above her waist, her toned physique blows me away, especially considering she’s had two kids.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She smiles, leaning in to hug me.

  “And you. Where are the girls?”

  “Lex took them to the zoo today. I’ve already gotten a dozen texts and calls.” She pulls out her phone and proudly shows me a picture of the two girls sitting in front of the bird enclosure. “Anyway,” she continues, “we’re here to celebrate you.”

  Having been dragged to a number of these events in the past, I’m surprised it turns out to be a fun couple of hours, playing games, eating delicious food and, of course, opening presents.

  Mom, as promised, got me a new breast pump, and pretty much the rest of the baby store back home. Among the other gifts are clothes, toys, and other much-needed items.

  Hidden behind the last bag I open is a flat present wrapped in brown paper. I take it off the table and search for a card, which is on the opposite side. I open the envelope, take out the small card, and slowly read the inscription.

  My dad would read this to me every night.

  Now it’s my turn to read it to our child.

  With everyone in the room focused on me, I unwrap the present carefully. It’s a storybook with a picture of two bears on the front. The title reads, Why I Love My Dad So Much. As I open the first page to have a glimpse, there, in a child’s writing, are the words, This book belongs to Haden Cooper.

  I know everyone is watching me, and I’m barely able to choke back the tears. I think I mumble something like ‘thank you all for coming,’ and fortunately, Gemma distracts everyone with party favors.

  When the last guest leaves, I head to my room, utterly exhausted. Vicky and Kate are happy to clean up, and Gemma, Melissa, and Mom head back to their hotel for some sleep before an early morning flight home.

  Flopping onto the bed with Haden’s book in hand, I grab my phone and try to call him. It goes to voicemail after a few rings, and with heavy eyes, I send a follow-up text.

  Me: Your gift was beautiful. Thank you for giving this to our child.

  It’s the following morning when I read his reply.

  Haden: Sorry I missed your call. I didn’t hear my phone at dinner. My dad read that to me every night till I was ten years old. I’m hoping I’ll be able to do the same.

  It wasn’t until a week later that I went back and absorbed his words. My heart sank for him, that he won’t be able to read to our child every night because we aren’t together. He will live with his wife, Eloise, and I will live somewhere else. There is no point dwelling on that fact, and so I choose to move on. Well, at least I try to move on.

  He may have been in Vegas, but it feels like a million miles away, and my memory forgets what he looks like, having not seen him in almost a month. So, becoming a crazed, obsessed stalker seems only natural. I hit up social media, searching every photograph he is in and the general comments he posts. Just like Vicky said, he’s an extreme sports junkie with countless pictures of him jumping out of planes and off cliffs. He doesn’t post many status updates, but it’s the link to a video that he posted only hours ago which catches my attention.

  I press play, and it’s him playing a guitar and singing. In what looks like a hotel room balcony with the night’s sky above him, the guitar is positioned on his lap as he sits on the floor against the railing. Wearing a ratty Rolling Stones tank, gray sweats, and an army-green beanie, his arms are flexed and fuck, does he look gobsmackingly beautiful.

  He plays the chords and hums along to a familiar beat. I wrack my brain trying to figure out the song, and by the time he reaches the chorus, I recognize it. It’s an Eagles’ song, ‘I Can’t Tell You Why,’ and I remember it from my childhood when Dad would play the album on repeat.

  Haden’s voice is soft and sexy, perfectly in tune with the song. It’s over so quickly that I press play again, but this time I close my eyes. The lyrics are sinking deep within me—every word, every emotion, fueling this burning fire I am trying so hard to contain. What is it about him that does these things to my body and soul?

  I let out a breath to stop my heart from racing, and I click on the comments below. Several friends have commented, shared, and liked his post. In fact, there are over a hundred comments. By the end of the night, I feel li
ke a complete loser for reading more into it. He probably sings it about Eloise, and that thought makes me head straight to the tub of ice cream I had reserved for Vicky.

  Kate and Vicky notice a change in my mood, and they are quick to figure it out.

  “You porked him, didn’t you?” Kate sighs, using her over-the-top British slang.

  “For the millionth time, no!”

  “Something happened,” Vicky coerces, watching me intently. “You’re acting odd. You’re in love with him… aren’t you?”

  Frustrated, I pull myself up from the couch with the assistance of Kate. Being heavily pregnant at just under thirty-five weeks is taking its toll on my body.

  “We kissed… okay? That’s it,” I barely admit. “And I’m not in love with him. Just feel guilty because we shouldn’t have. It’s not fair to Eloise.”

  The damage is done, and the worst part is that it damaged me. I have enough on my plate without throwing a pile of guilt on there. I should have known this would happen. I’m not as strong as I thought I am. Love has this stupid way of creeping under your skin when you least expect it.

  Shit, I did not just use the word love.

  “Sweetie,” Vicky says soothingly, rubbing the base of my back like the good friend she is. I welcome the massage, especially because of the extra weight I’m carrying. “Why don’t you just admit there’s something there between you?”

  I want to ugly cry, and I’m not an overly emotional person. I didn’t even cry when watching Steel Magnolias or even Beaches, and everyone cries watching those movies.

  “I really want to drop this subject.”

  Thankfully, they drop the subject at that, but not without offering to hang out with me for the night. I reassure them I’m okay because I have to be, and I carry on, asking them about their plans for the evening.

  Vicky is meeting up with Patrick, which no doubt will result in her coming back here two hours later in tears. Kate has a rendezvous planned with mystery man. She’s dressed in a short, fitted leather dress and really high leather pumps, and I’m dying to ask if it’s at some underground bondage club. I also wonder if the mystery package that arrived earlier in the week from a place called Betty’s Sweet Things has something to do with tonight.