Rugged Boss

by Liz Fox

  By the time I got home, the hospice nurse had already arrived. Sal lies still on his bed, finally at peace. My first instinct is to hug my mom, but she looks like she’s barely holding it together. Instead, I ask her, “Do you want me to take care of the things on the list?”

  She nods silently, still holding Sal’s hand.

  I pull up the list we made when I first moved in—who to notify, where to send the obituary, setting up the funeral, etc. I’m halfway through the calls when I realize I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow. That isn’t happening.

  I quickly send an email to my supervisor, notifying her of the circumstances and that I won’t be in the next day. Her email back offers her condolences and tells me to take as long as I need since the company offers bereavement leave. Then it’s back to the list, making sure extended family and friends have gotten the news.

  By nine o’clock, I’m exhausted. Mom took care of Sal while the appropriate people did their stuff. I made the calls. Neither of us have eaten, and I don’t think we’re going to. I feel a pat on my head and turn to see my mom head silently up the stairs.

  Numb, I stare at the blank television screen. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting there when I hear a whimper from upstairs. Poor mom. I can’t even imagine how she must feel right now. My chest feels aching and empty, and it wasn’t my husband who passed away. I can’t even begin to make decisions about my own future beyond being here for my mom tomorrow.

  After that, who knows? I could end up staying here with her for a while to help her out, or I might move back and finish my degree. Everything is available, yet nothing appeals at the moment. Not even a sexy romp with Rand. It was a fun diversion, but now real life is back stronger than ever. Those few days with Rand were great, but they weren’t real.

  This is real.

  Mom crying in the bathroom is real.

  My eyes aching with unshed tears is real.

  Rand was a fantasy. I'm glad for the time we spent together, but I understood from the beginning that I would eventually have to come back to reality. And here I am.

  Chapter 8

  Rand

  Monday again. It’s been a week since Tess started working at Moreau Construction. It’s been two days since I had my face between her thighs. And it’s been two hours since I masturbated to thoughts of her in the shower.

  Finally, I’m in the office, running my hands over my desk and remembering what happened here last week. Only two minutes away from seeing my woman. I know she had to look after her mom and stepdad this weekend, but that didn’t stop me from obsessing about her non-stop since I saw her last.

  Someone knocks on my office door and I start to stand, ready to sweep Tess off her feet and slam her against the wall. Grumbling, I sit back down when I see it’s just Jesse, looking entirely too chipper for a Monday morning.

  “How have you been since I last saw you, Rand?” Jesse taps his pen against his lips as he strolls into my office. “Any new developments?” He tilts his head forward, giving me knowing bedroom eyes while the pen against his lips takes on a very suggestive motion.

  Obviously, he thinks he knows something. “What are you implying?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just that I ran into our gorgeous Tess in the elevator last Friday evening.” His voice takes on a sing-song cadence, eyebrows wiggling. “She looked like she’d had a very productive day.”

  He takes a closer look at me, brow furrowing. “And you look like you’ve had a very long, lonely weekend.”

  That’s enough. “Unless you have something useful to say, get out of here, you dumbass.” Grabbing my mouse, I pretend I’m captivated by someone on my screen. I don’t normally back away from a tough conversation, but right now I want Jesse out of my office before Tess gets to work.

  “Alright, alright.” Jesse backs out the door, grinning wickedly. “But don’t forget our meeting at eleven about the OC project.”

  Checking my watch, I see that it’s a few minutes after nine. Standing, I start the familiar trek down the stairs. I’ll wear a path in the carpet at this rate. A minute later, I’m staring at her closed office door. That’s odd, normally her door is open. I knock; no answer. I try the knob; it’s locked.

  Stalking down the hallway, I look for Tess’ supervisor. She’s here today, but apparently is not at her desk at the moment. A sign on her desk reads, “Getting coffee. Back in 15.”

  Damn. Where is everyone? I head back to my office, checking my phone on the way. No missed calls. No messages. Back at my desk, I call Tess’ personal number. After ringing a few times, it goes to voicemail. I hang up, not leaving a message.

  My jaw clenches—with worry, with anger, or some combination of both. What the hell is going on? Where is Tess? I pace my office for a few minutes before sending an urgent email to Tess’ supervisor, demanding any information about where Tess is.

  Seven minutes later, my office phone rings. “Yes?” I demand.

  “Um, hello Mr. Moreau, sir. I was calling to tell you about Tess—”

  “Tell me.”

  “She emailed me yesterday requesting today off.”

  My chest starts to swell with indignation and determination. She won’t get rid of me that easily. I’m about to end the call and drive to Tess’ home—if she wants to avoid me at work, well then, I’ll just have to see her at home.

  Before I hang up, almost as an afterthought, I ask, “Did she say why?”

  “Yes, sir. Apparently, her stepfather passed away last night.”

  “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I hang up. My shoulders slump and my chest deflates. Shit. Poor Tess. Poor Tess’ mom. No wonder she took the day off. She must be trying to help her mom.

  Though, there’s not much anyone can do but be there. There’s no way to fix it. But having someone there is better than being alone. Obviously.

  Here I am getting all worked up, and It has nothing to do with me. It’s a private family matter. We’ve only known each other for a week. There’s no reason she should have to call me.

  That’s the thought that rubs me the wrong way—that she didn’t reach out to me. Not even a text. Running my hands through my hair, I continue pacing, trying to think it out. Frustrated, I sit at my desk, grab a bottle of whiskey from the drawer, and take a deep pull. I don’t care if it’s not even eleven in the morning. It’s already that kind of day.

  My email dings at me as I take another sip. It’s from Thayer. More for distraction than anything else, I open his message.

  Hey Boss, How is the lovely Tess? Does she miss me? Make sure to bring her with you the next time you stop by. In fact, go ahead and send her over by herself. I’ll make sure to show her everything I know… about architecture.

  Son of a bitch.

  Growling, I cap the bottle and slam it back in the drawer. Thayer’s email just pours fuel on my frustration. Fuck. I don’t even know if Tess will be coming back. She only moved to Oakwood City to help her mom out. She could quit at any time. She could go back to Fairview and finish her degree. For all I know, I might never see her again.

  Unacceptable.

  Every fiber of my being knows that Tess belongs with me. It’s all I can do not to tear through the city until I find her, claim her, and take her home. But I know that’s not the right move. Not just because it isn’t politically correct, but because her stepfather just died. She doesn’t need me storming in, banging my chest, and throwing her over my shoulder like a caveman.

  A knock sounds on my office door and Jesse walks in. “It’s time for our meeting about the OC…” His voice fades as he sees the look on my face. “But I think maybe we should talk about something else.” He closes the door softly behind him. “What’s going on, Rand?”

  “I don’t know what to do.” My hands clench, teeth grinding as I admit my failure.

  “Tell me more,” he says, his tone serious as he sits down across from me. He might act like a playful dumbass sometimes, but Jesse has a wisdom beyond most people. If anyone can he
lp me with this, it’s my long-time friend.

  I update him on what’s happening. Ten minutes later, he leans back in the chair, hands steepled in front of him.

  “What do you want?” He eyes me curiously. I’m sure he already knows what I’m going to say, but he has to get it out of me like a goddamn life coach.

  “I want Tess,” I growl.

  “Including the emotional stuff?” He sounds skeptical. Jesse knows I usually avoid commitments with women.

  “Yes, dammit. I want every part of her, every day.” A fierce longing shoots from my chest as I remember her earnest eyes at the coffee shop. Or her seductive smile. Or her skipping in her tennis shoes at the job site.

  “She’s everything. Of course I want her. But I’ve been focused on myself for so long. Am I actually what’s best for her? ”

  “The fact that you’re asking the question means you’re on the right track. You should ask her.”

  His words stop me in my tracks. “Wait. What?” I shake my head at him. “Jesse, were you listening? She didn’t even text me when her stepdad died. We don’t have the kind of relationship where I can ask her that kind of bullshit.” When I realize the depth of the hole I dug myself, I punch my desk, welcoming the pain.

  “Of course she hasn’t called you.”

  I stare at Jesse in shock.

  He continues, “So far there hasn’t been much investment on your part. It’s no big deal for you to give her a job. You’re already connected, already successful, and could have any woman you want. Whereas she hasn’t finished her degree, she has a new job, her living situation is temporary, and now that her stepfather died, her future is suddenly very uncertain.”

  Once Jesse points it out, it’s easy to see the power discrepancy that I missed in my obsession. At the time, it felt like she had twisted me around her little finger. But that’s not the only dynamic in our relationship.

  Jesse huffs. “Plus, she doesn’t know that you’re a lonely, grumpy, son of a bitch when she’s not around.”

  Rolling my eyes, I grab my bottle from the drawer and take another chug of whiskey.

  “What are you going to do?” he asks.

  “One thing I know for sure—I’m not letting her get away.”

  Chapter 9

  Tess

  No one ever tells you how lonely funerals can be. Dozens of people surrounding a casket for a single purpose, yet everyone alone in their grief. My mother and I have barely spoken to each other in the last week. My supervisor gave me the week off and Rand never reached out except for one measly text offering his condolences. Just me, my mom, and the memory of Sal in a big, quiet house.

  There’s a pretty big turnout for Sal. I’m glad he had so many friends. For me, I think it’d be just my mom and Josie that would come to my funeral. Maybe an ex-boyfriend or two. It’s a bit sad to think of how little I’ve accomplished and how few friends I have.

  The service is almost over—a priest is starting the closing prayer. I dip my head and close my eyes, gasping when a woodsy scent and massive arms envelop me from behind.

  Rand. He’s here.

  I immediately sink into his embrace. This last week has been so difficult. But he’s here. And I’m not alone. At least for the moment.

  The priest finishes the prayer and everyone either starts walking to their car or mingling with other mourners. I turn in Rand’s arms. His warm brown eyes look down at me and he runs his hand gently through my hair. It feels like an invitation, so I accept on my terms—laying my cheek against his chest and hugging him back.

  After a few minutes, Rand leans down to whisper in my ear, “Hey, fighter. Will you introduce me to your mom?”

  “Yeah, she’s probably already wondering who you are.” My mother may have been overwhelmed with grief, but she’s still my mom. There’s no way she won’t notice a handsome stranger hugging her daughter.

  Turning, I take his hand and lead him around the group of women offering my mother their condolences. I smile at the women. “Mom, can you come with me for a minute?” She smiles gratefully. Our rituals around death are crazy. The last thing you want to be doing at your husband’s funeral is making small talk with dozens of people. Give the woman a few weeks, for heaven’s sake.

  Once we’re a few feet from the crowd, I stop. “Mom, I’d like you to meet my friend from Moreau Construction. This is Rand.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Martone. I’m so sorry for your loss.” They shake hands. Part of me can’t believe this is a thing—my mother and my boss—er, friend—meeting at my stepdad’s funeral.

  The disbelief grows when Rand pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to my mother.

  “In honor of your husband, Moreau Construction has made a donation to a non-profit that funds cancer research.”

  My mother peeks in the envelope and gasps, one hand going straight to her chest. She passes the envelope to me, and I take my own look.

  Holy shit.

  That’s not just a donation. That’s a sizable donation. But that’s Rand. He doesn’t do anything small, if you know what I mean. I hand the envelope back to my mom just before she wraps Rand in a hug. She murmurs something I can’t quite hear, but I hear Rand’s reply.

  “I’m glad to do it. I’ve seen how much Tess cares about you both. This is one way I can do something for you…” He looks straight at me, brown eyes burning. “And for your daughter.”

  My mom pulls away, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Thank you, again.”

  “Of course.” Rand holds his hand out for me and I take it. “Mrs. Martone, would you mind if I take Tess with me? I’ll bring her home in a few hours.”

  I turn to him. “But how will my mom get home?”

  “I hired a limo for her.” He gestures to the edge of the cemetery where a limo is parked and waiting. “You have it for the night, Mrs. Martone. You can go home. You can ride for hours. Whatever helps you feel better.”

  Tears fill my mom’s eyes again. “Thank you, Rand.” She looks at me with a warm gaze. “Honey, you know I wouldn’t mind a little time alone.”

  That’s true. I give her one last hug and remind her to call me if she needs anything. She heads back to the crowd, presumably to accept more platitudes. I follow Rand to his truck, hopping in the passenger seat.

  Rand climbs in the driver’s side and I can’t help rubbing my hands down my dress with nerves. He’s here now. But he hasn’t been here all week. What changed?

  We pull away from the cemetery. I watch him while he drives, noticing some changes even in the short time since I last saw him. His black hair is just a touch too long, and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week. Not that he looks worse. If anything, he looks more rugged. Or maybe I’m seeing him through rose-colored glasses because I missed him so much.

  Unfortunately, it’s time for the hard questions. “Rand, what are you doing here?”

  His jaw clenches, his cheek doing that throbbing thing that happens when men get frustrated.

  “I’m glad to see you, sure. But if you were planning on coming today anyway, then why haven’t you called this week?”

  His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “I can’t have this conversation when I’m driving; I need to see you.”

  Pulling into an empty parking lot, we stop in front of a random office building that’s closed for the day. Shadows are beginning to gather as the sun sets for the evening. Somehow, the truck feels more intimate than it should. Not thirty minutes ago, I was surrounded by people, lamenting how alone I felt. Now, I’m in an empty parking lot with only one other person, and it almost feels crowded.

  “Tess.” He turns in his seat so he’s facing me as he takes my hand. “I wanted to be there for you. But I also didn’t want to overstep. I thought you and your mom might need time to grieve together.” He squeezes my hands. “Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing, fighter. This is completely new to me.”

  “What’s new to you?” I nod, accepting his explan
ation but still curious about his statement. It's true that he isn't his best in social settings. In fact, he's always been awkward—too demanding, too forward. Propriety and gentility definitely aren't his forte.

  He seems disconcerted at my question, thrusting his hands through his hair. “This! Me, you, us. I think about you all the time. I want to protect you when you’re hurting. But I’m completely ignorant of how to do that in this situation.”

  He didn’t mean to ghost me. He stayed away because he cares. Which is the same reason he got me a job at his company. And the reason he introduced me to his head architect. And the reason he showed up the funeral and made a huge donation to cancer research in my stepfather’s name. He doesn’t just care. He cares a lot. With that realization, all my fear disappears and another emotion takes its place.

  “You don’t know what to do right now?” I ask.

  He pauses, staring into my eyes, hearing something in my tone. I have no idea what he sees on my face, but all I can think about is how good he looks in a suit… and how much better he’ll look out of it.

  The energy in the car transforms in an instant. There’s the man I fell in love with, the one I missed all week, this controlling beast of a man. His brown eyes light with an internal fire as he looks me over, gaze pausing on my lips, breasts, and legs. His voice is barely audible when he replies. “Oh, I know exactly what to do right now, fighter.”

  “What are you going to do, boss?” I whisper, watching as his pupils widen in response to my challenge. Yes, I love him. And, dear god, do I want him. Like, right now.

  “Come here,” he orders.

  Yes, sir. I unbuckle my seat belt and scoot over the seat until only inches separate us.

  “Good girl.” He wraps one large hand around the back of my neck while the other cups my cheek. Gently, he brings my mouth to his, nibbling on my lips and pressing soft kisses to my cheeks. “Tess. God, Tess. I missed you this week.”