Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Flippies, Auntie Reese!” she says with a giggle.

  “Millie—”

  “I’ll be good. Pwomise.”

  Reese sets her down on my marble floor.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  “Oh, we won’t be here long. I just wanted to—”

  “Apologize. Why do you think I need to hear it a hundred times?” I ask her.

  She sighs. “I was way too harsh. I was rude to you, Nick. You were just trying to help. You’ve only tried to help lately. You didn’t deserve what I said and you also deserve better than a half-joking text or two.”

  Her eyelashes flutter, cutting me in two. I hope she never finds out how impossible it is to stay mad at her over a flippant comment.

  “Really, truly, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. For us. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but I’ve thought things over and...yeah. I’d welcome your help tracking down Will Frisk. It was stupid of me to refuse.”

  I shrug. “Are you sure? I’m still willing to help, but I’ll back off if that’s what you want. When you told me to mind my own business, I should’ve listened. It’s just hard when we ride around this frigid-ass city all winter with barely a hint of sun to look forward to.” I stop, far too close to telling her it’s her smile I look forward to when there’s no sunrise. I lean forward so Millie can’t hear. “Listen, if someone fucks with you, they’re fucking with me, too. That’s how it is now.”

  Her eyes dance when she laughs.

  I think she lingers a second too long, breathes too deep, inhaling me.

  Shit.

  “That’s sweet, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

  “Wrong. You’re strong and capable. I’m just breaking your fall,” I say. “There was no point in leaving you to suffer through it alone when I can help.”

  “I’m not used to people helping, so help makes me nervous,” she says, those pastel-blue eyes darting away. “Abby was the only person I’ve ever been able to count on. It’s weird because with you—without the company—I’d be totally alone...”

  She shrugs with both shoulders so high it’s like she’s retreating into a shell.

  Reese has never been this open with me before.

  That picture from the night I mashed up her heart comes back to me. Yeah, I think she’s as beautiful tonight as she was on that fake date before our brush with Carmen.

  It’s in the eyes. They’re soft, bottomless, trusting.

  Goddamn, Nick Brandt, you’re such an idiot.

  Slap. Slap. Slap.

  “Millie!”

  My eyes trail Reese’s gaze to the source of the sound.

  Millie stands in front of the sliding glass door to my balcony, slapping it with both hands.

  I smile. “She’s okay.”

  “She’s going to keep her hands to herself, aren’t you, Millie?” Reese says, hands on her hips. She’s more adorable than ever when she’s trying to sound stern.

  Walnut-brown hair cascades over her face when Millie drops her head.

  “Yes, Auntie Reese.”

  “Since you didn’t let me take your coat, why don’t we all go check out the balcony? You’ll love the view,” I say, already approaching the door.

  Reese’s mouth forms a tight line. “There’s no way she can fall?”

  “She’ll be fine, Mama Bear. Let me grab my coat.” I look over at the glass door where Millie has her face pressed against the glass. “It’s a cool night for a munchkin. Do you want hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah! Choc-wit.” Her smile shows her dimples.

  She’s the cutest kid.

  “I have whipped cream and marshmallows. What should we put on top?”

  Her face grows serious like she can’t decide. “Can we have whipped cream and marshmallows?”

  “Sure,” I say as Reese says, “No!”

  “She’s four. Let her have her fun,” I throw back.

  “That a freaking ton of sugar. Do you want to put her to bed tonight?”

  My eyes linger, drinking in her frustration.

  I want to put you to bed tonight, or at least I want to take you to bed, Reese.

  That singular thought conjures scalding images I can’t get out of my head. What would it be like to shear off her clothes? To pull that fierce mouth to mine, to devour her, to spread her legs and impale her right on my seething—

  No. Get your shit together, man. She’s still an employee.

  “She’ll be fine. Give me five minutes. Do you want cocoa too?” I ask.

  Her tight face relaxes. “Any chance you have hot tea? Or coffee?”

  “I’ve got both.”

  “Tea would be great. Surprise me with what kind,” she says.

  “You guys can go ahead. I’ll meet you outside. It’s all voice activated. Just say, ‘Lexa, unlock the main balcony’ and she will.”

  Reese nods, flicking her hair.

  On the balcony, carrying a small tray of mugs, I pass out hot drinks and turn on the gas firepit.

  “Don’t worry. I put a lid on Millie’s cup and lowered the temperature,” I tell her.

  “You’ve thought of everything.” Reese holds her hot tea with both hands and smiles, closing her eyes. “This looks even nicer than the indoor fireplace. How many, um, fire-making things do you have?”

  “At least seven. Every bedroom has its own fireplace, and so do a couple bathrooms. Nothing like hot flames on cool nights,” I say, staring too intently into her eyes.

  Reese whips her face away with a redness on her cheeks I don’t think is from the coolness. She walks about two feet from the railing.

  “Do you see where I am?” Reese asks, sipping her tea.

  Millie nods.

  “There’s an imaginary line here. If you cross it, we all turn to ice.”

  “How?” Millie asks.

  “Elsa magic. But if the spell gets broken, we go home, and you don’t play on the slide with Miss Tiffany. You only draw in your notebook all day.”

  “No notebook!” Millie spits like she’s being sentenced to hard labor.

  Reese smiles at her. “Then don’t cross the line, okay, bumblebee?”

  “O-kay.”

  I sit in a lounge chair beside the fire and Reese sits across from me. Her eyes trail Millie, making sure she doesn’t get anywhere near the railing.

  “She’s safe. It’s solid glass between the metal. It could repel a charging bull.”

  She glances at me. “She can climb. Don’t let the little legs fool you.”

  “You act like she’s been through boot camp. I’ll eat my watch if the girl can do a pullup at least three times her own height,” I say.

  “She’s flexible and fast. You don’t know what she’s capable of.” She wags a finger at me.

  I try not to snort.

  Reese has never been at my penthouse for a social call before. I’m not sure she’ll be here again, but I’ll see if I can do anything else to childproof the balcony just in case.

  Millie goes close to her imaginary line and jumps back from it so hard she falls on her bottom. She looks up and sees me watching her.

  “Don’t worry. I made sure we won’t turn into ice,” I say with a mock-serious tone.

  She smiles and scurries off, paying some imaginary friend for a milkshake her hot chocolate becomes.

  Old words come floating back.

  Reese told me I’d be a good dad once, and for some unholy reason those words combined with Millie’s tiny figure playing on my balcony makes me see this moment differently.

  What if the kid playing on the balcony was mine?

  What if the beautiful woman sitting across from me wasn’t just my driver?

  But another memory hits.

  Reese, dazzling photographers and influencers in a bright dress that fit her like a glove, her lips on fire and for one glorious moment—mine.

  Mine and nothing else.

  Never going to happen. Never should fucking
happen.

  I wish I could forget. Her blue eyes and easy smile are so soft tonight with nothing but the tangerine glow of the gas flames dancing between us. The city lights twinkle in the distance, illuminating her like she’s one with the city’s soul.

  “Thanks for dropping by,” I say, taking a pull of my drink.

  “Well, you’re welcome. I wasn’t sure it’d be okay or if you’d be busy.”

  “Never too busy for this,” I say. “You and Millie are welcome anytime.”

  “What about without Millie...or is an adorable preschooler my price of admission to the ivory tower?” She holds back a smile that hits me straight in the balls.

  Damn.

  I swear, if Millie wasn’t here, I’d already have Reese Halle splayed out on my bed, jackhammered and breathless.

  I swallow hard, taking another sip of chocolate that almost chokes me. “No kid necessary. Not for you.”

  Her smile grows.

  “How’s your sister?” Since the chill night can’t muffle my desire, I’d might as well add conversational ice water to the mix.

  “I don’t think she’s doing well. Nothing’s new. She’s not talking to me or Mr. Sutton. I really don’t understand. I know she’s afraid, scared for us, but...her addiction was years ago. I’ll never believe she was abusing it again, let alone doling it out.”

  “That’s rough. My parents are screwed up, but Ward and I had our grandparents. It has to be hard as hell to be growing up with no adults around.”

  Reese nods like her head weighs a ton.

  “Most foster kids wind up homeless or in prison a year after their eighteenth birthday. Abby was in a narcotics’ treatment program for a year. It was a hard road to get her right, but I’ve seen worse. But like I said, that was years ago. She got help and worked through it. She’s a good mom. I used to get irritated with her, because she always borrowed money...but after what I’ve learned about childcare, I understand why. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, again. No more thank yous tonight,” I tell her.

  She takes a long sip of her tea. “I just wish she’d talk. I’m not sure what she’s hiding, but she’s not helping herself by holding it in.”

  “You know I was Navy, right?”

  She nods.

  “So, the thing about the service—it doesn’t matter which branch—it’s hard-ass work. The hours are long. It’s physically grueling. You’re often somewhere you don’t know surrounded by people you don’t know, and you see some real crap.” I pause, setting my cocoa down. “Sometimes, you even have to do things that under normal circumstances would be rather fu—” I get a glimpse of Millie playing in the corner of my eye and catch myself before I finish the word. “Messed up. A lot of guys fall into drug addictions after active duty. My gut says your sister isn’t a bad person. She’s mixed up in something, and she’s terrified to talk.”

  “Yeah. Nothing else makes sense,” she says weakly. “Someone hit her the night she was arrested—”

  “When you said she’s holding back to protect you, I believe her.”

  Reese sighs and brings her cup to her mouth again. “You’re right. But unless she talks, no one can help. It’s all so frustrating. She has a good attorney—a great one I never could’ve gotten thanks to you—and she won’t give him anything.”

  “Don’t worry. Sooner or later, she’ll drop her guard and explain what happened. I’m sure once she does, she’ll be a free woman and back with Millie.” No hesitation in my voice. I’m keeping the faith.

  “That would be too perfect. I love Millie, but I’m a better aunt than a mom. I’ll keep going as long as this takes, of course, but I feel like such a screwup.” She sighs, throwing herself back in the chair.

  I glance over at the kid, still hopping around and babbling.

  “She’s fed, dressed, and laughing at imaginary friends. You’re already ten steps ahead of where I’d be if I had a kid dropped in my lap. Enough beating yourself up,” I growl, meeting her eyes.

  “Oh, please.” Reese laughs. “Kids come naturally to you. Also, I never had you pegged for an optimist, but you seem so sure this will all work out. Why?”

  I gaze into her big blue eyes for a heavy moment.

  “I’m no raging optimist, but I’m feeling pretty good about our chances tonight.” I also know her sister’s going to be okay, because if Sutton and his people can’t get the job done, I’ll find someone who will.

  The only thing I can’t take is this distance.

  Standing up, I move to sit beside her. Taking her hand in mine, I squeeze with a firmness that’s possessive.

  Our touch ignites.

  She rubs her thumb in circles over my palm.

  Thank fuck for Millie. If her niece weren’t playing a foot away from us, I’d kiss her into the next lifetime.

  “Nick, you’re amazing. I wish the people who constantly crap on you could see what you’re really like,” she says.

  “That makes two of us,” I grumble.

  Even so, I’m thrilled as hell.

  She’s letting her guard down. She’s comfortable with me today.

  I slip an arm around her, holding my breath. You know a woman’s got you by the balls when she makes you feel like a nervous sixteen-year-old again.

  Reese gives in, leaning over and laying her head on my chest.

  My arm drops from her shoulders to her waist and my grip tightens.

  She sighs. I smile. The night twinkles on.

  Millie runs close to her imaginary line and darts away again, this time racing past us until she’s out of breath. The only way this scene could be more perfect is if it lasted. If Reese and Millie didn’t have to head home soon.

  What the fuck am I thinking?

  Cuddling? Hot cocoa? Almost-family time?

  Roland Birdshit might be right to toy with my sanity because I’m clearly losing it.

  Millie walks up to the couch Reese and I are stretched across and taps on my knee. I look at her.

  “It’s cold, Mr. Nick. I want a movie. And I’m hungry.”

  “It’s getting pretty late for a princess, I’ll admit.”

  Reese’s eyes pop open from their lidded state. “Oh, crud. I was so busy tonight I forgot to feed her.”

  My eyes flick to Millie, then Reese again.

  “I said it’s late. But not too late for pizza...”

  Millie lets out a delighted squeal that echoes through the night. “Pizz-zaaa!”

  Reese pulls out of my grasp and sits up.

  “No, we should probably go home. Nick is right, it’s getting late.”

  Our moment ends with a whimper, but I’m not ready for them to leave.

  “Quick Nick says it’s pizza time.” Millie stamps her foot for emphasis.

  I turn to Reese, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Quick Nick, huh? Creative.”

  For a second, she looks so pale she could die.

  “It was the only way I could get her to quit calling you Nick the—you know,” Reese begins in a whisper. “Another thing I’m really sorry for.”

  I chuckle. I’ve caught her off guard and decide to use it to my advantage.

  “How does pepperoni sound? I’ve got three of the best shops in the city set up for one-click orders,” I say, pulling out my phone.

  Reese’s eyes dance from Millie and then back to me. “Pepperoni it is.”

  “Cheese, cheese!” Millie yells, cupping her hands over her mouth.

  “Millie, you can’t go to someone else’s house and change their dinner plans,” Reese warns her. “I can pick the pepperoni off for you.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who asked. Millie wants cheese. I like a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.”

  Reese’s eyes connect with mine.

  “I looove cheese!” Millie chirps again.

  “See? She’s got guts. The squeaky wheel gets the cheese tonight.”

  Finally, Reese cracks, laughing as I punch in the order.
/>   I stand up, offering her a hand.

  With this company, I could eat a piece of cardboard with toppings drawn in chalk and smile like a fool.

  15

  Here Comes Muscle (Reese)

  I pop into Sweeter Grind with Millie on my hip and order up a cinnamon latte—plus a caramel macchiato for my boss.

  His brother keeps up a constant front of manly black espresso drip and jokes about anything else being for wimps. Nick won’t admit it, but caramel macchiato is his favorite drink after decadent mochas.

  It’s also something small I can do for him after everything he’s done for me—for us.

  “I wanna cramel coffee,” Millie says, adorably butchering caramel.

  “You’re not old enough for espresso and you’d best believe we’re moderating your sugar, babe,” I tell her.

  “I want juice!” she squeals, waving her arms at the bright beverages in the refrigerated case.

  “It’s not sweet. You won’t like it. There’s better juice in your playroom for free.”

  “Fiiine.”

  The barista calls my name.

  “You’re going to have to walk now. I can’t carry you and two drinks.” I set Millie on her feet. “Grab an arm or leg and don’t let go.”

  She pulls on my pant leg all the way to the car so I’m not worried about her wandering off or someone snatching her. Once or twice, I have to hope the pants don’t fall, though.

  It hasn’t gotten much easier playing mom while Abby is locked up, but I’m getting better at it. I think.

  Parking lots used to terrify me with her. I never had enough hands to manage all the risks that come with being totally responsible for someone else’s life.

  Thank God for Tiffany, or we’d be doing this all day, every day. The nanny works my hours and stays on call if I have urgent pickups or unplanned deliveries.

  Day by day, we’re surviving. The last few days have even been peaceful.

  I still can’t get the way Nick squeezed my hand and held me out of my head. I have the gift of good memory, and it keeps me on my toes every time we’re in the same space.