Undercover Boss: A Dirty Office Romance (Soulmates Series Book 8)

by Hazel Kelly

  “You’re not thinking of getting one, are you?”

  “God, no. I’m happy with the ones I’ve got, and my sister can’t draw for shit.” She flipped Tinkerbell over and held her against her chest like a baby. “But I feel like I need to be supportive since she’s finally trying to make something of herself.”

  “Right.”

  “I could use the moral support, though. In fact, I was thinking we could turn it into a drinking game.”

  “How would that work?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far. Maybe we could take a swig of wine every time someone winces.”

  “I’m not sure drinking games and tattoo parties are a good combo for me.” Not only was I a wimp about physical pain, but I wasn’t quite at my goal weight yet, so a tattoo was totally out of the question. “Plus I have plans Saturday.”

  “Better plans than the one I just laid out?” she asked, her face full of feigned shock.

  “Hard to believe, I know.” I used my fork to make sure I’d found all the chicken in the bowl and then set the last few bites of noodles on the coffee table to stop myself from eating on autopilot. Ray used to make jokes about how I was the queen of the Clean Plate Club, and I didn’t want to be the woman I was with him anymore. Not on the inside and certainly not on the outside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Catching up with an old friend.”

  Her almond-shaped eyes homed in on me. “What friend?”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “Impossible. I know all your old friends.”

  “You know how I used to go to that camp in Michigan every summer ’cause my dad needed a break from me?”

  “I’m sure that’s not why he sent you there.”

  “Whatever. I’m not bitter about it. It couldn’t have been easy for him to be a single dad all those years.” I recalled the week he spent learning to French braid my hair using YouTube videos, how he cussed his way through it because he didn’t want me to feel like the girls with moms had anything I didn’t. How could I begrudge him a few weeks of beer and fishing and car shows knowing everything he sacrificed for me?

  Her face furrowed. “Did he tell you that was the reason?”

  “No, but kid’s intuition, ya know? Anyway, a boy I met there started working at the gym today.”

  “Small world.”

  “Not that he’s a boy anymore. Obviously.” I thought of the way Alex’s uniform pulled across his chest, the way his dark eyes followed me like I was a person of interest.

  “I thought you weren’t going to date for a while?”

  “It’s not a date. We’re just friends.” Sure, I might’ve longed to be more all those years ago, but I feared people would’ve made fun of him for dating a girl twice his size. Not that he even liked me like that. Or had he? There were moments when I wasn’t sure, moments when he looked at me and something shifted in the air. Like something big was about to happen.

  “So a rebound fuck is out of the question? ’Cause that might be just what you need.”

  “A rebound fuck is not what I need. Not from a coworker, anyway.” I sighed and stared down at Tinkerbell’s little pink nose glistening on my thigh where she’d rested her chin.

  Of course, the truth was I’d thought about it. Not the rebound part, necessarily, but I’d thought about Alex in that way. I’d wondered what it would be like to brush against his imposing frame, to have his strong hand on my cheek, his warm lips on mine.

  Maybe it wasn’t that far-fetched.

  It had happened once, after all.

  And there’d always been a strange tension between us. A chemistry that couldn’t be denied.

  Or at least, I’d thought so.

  Even today.

  And for the first time in months, I found myself looking forward to tomorrow.

  S E V E N

  - Alex -

  “So how’s it going?” Jimmy asked after the waitress took our breakfast order.

  “How’s what going?” I asked, sliding my steaming mug of black coffee closer.

  He groaned. “You are going to the gym every day, right? If the board finds out you’ve been playing hooky—”

  “I’m going, okay. I agreed to do it, didn’t I?”

  He put his hands up like he was sorry to offend my delicate sensibilities.

  I looked out the window and watched an elderly woman park diagonally across the handicapped space.

  “So?” he asked eventually.

  “So what?”

  “How are you finding it?”

  I turned my attention back to him. I knew he was desperate for some feedback—any feedback—but I hadn’t made sense of my own thoughts enough to share them yet. “What is it you want me to say?”

  “Truthfully?”

  I raised my eyebrows with my mug before taking a sip.

  “I want you to say that you’ve fallen back in love with the business, that you have a million ideas for how to turn the flagging branches around, and that I can go back to the board and tell them their jobs are safe and they have nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Well?”

  “I wish I could lie to you, but I’m not there yet.”

  He sighed.

  I hated to see the look of disappointment on his face, especially when I knew he was coming from a good place, but no matter how much he wished otherwise, I wasn’t the same person I was when I started the gym. Back then I was full of purpose, full of faith, and full of ambition. But when my mom got sick, my focus changed overnight. It was like not only had I taken my foot off the gas, but I’d turned the car in an entirely different direction.

  “Are you pissed at me or something?”

  “No. I’m not pissed at you.” I leaned back in the booth. The truth was, I was pissed at God. Not that I was about to tell him that. “I’m just frustrated.”

  He stared out the window.

  I decided I had to throw him a bone. “For everything good I’ve noticed at the gym, there are as many things that need to be changed.”

  “Like what?”

  “The manager, for example.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s phoning it in,” I said. “She leaves early every day, treats the employees like shit, and couldn’t care less about the members.”

  “What do you want to do about it?”

  “I haven’t decided,” I said. “I want to wait and see how she handles a serious issue that’s come up.”

  “What’s that?”

  I looked around and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Two girls have accused one of the older male members of harassment.”

  “Shit.”

  “My understanding is that he’s been saying inappropriate things to them during water aerobics.”

  “What kind of man takes water aerobics?”

  I shrugged. “Only two kinds as far as I can tell.”

  He leaned his neck forward.

  “Men with delicate joints and pervs.”

  “Has anyone witnessed the behavior?”

  “It doesn’t fucking matter,” I said. “The girls felt uncomfortable enough to complain. That’s more than enough proof for me.”

  He chewed the inside of his cheek.

  “The next class is on Monday, anyway, and I want to see how Mary handles it.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Though I’d be lying if I told you I was optimistic.”

  “Well, she must be doing something right. Her location has the highest satisfaction ratings of all the gyms and the highest membership retention.”

  “I know it’s only been a few days, but I’m pretty sure that’s down to the other employees. They’re all fantastic. The woman who teaches most of the group classes is so enthusiastic she makes me want to join in, and the in-house trainer, André, seems totally overqualified but absolutely loves the place. You’d think he built every machine himself for the care he takes keeping them in good condition.”

  “
That’s positive.”

  “Mostly, though, I think it’s down to the floor manager, Gemma. She’s the one that keeps the staff motivated, and not only does she know every single member by name, but she knows what kind of workouts they do and how often they come in. Seems she’s the backbone of the whole place. If we could replicate her, Pump could go nationwide no problem.”

  He squinted at me.

  “What?”

  “Is she the one we saw walking in the first day before you got out of the car?”

  I pretended to think about it. “Yeah. That was her.”

  A smirk lit up his face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m less worried about you is all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Here I thought you were having these long days folding towels and hosing down locker rooms, but you’re actually in there scoping for chicks.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “She’s a professional. Besides, I already know her.”

  “What?”

  “We went to camp together as kids. I just didn’t realize it in the parking lot that morning because she’s changed as much as I have since I last saw her.”

  “Too bad. I thought you actually made a new friend.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why so defensive? Do you have a thing for her?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t like anyone.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Have you called Libby since you went out that night?”

  “You know I haven’t called her.”

  “You’re right. I do. It’s why you haven’t called her that I don’t get.”

  “I already told you why.”

  He scoffed. “I can’t exactly tell Kim you haven’t called her best friend back because you don’t like her talon nails. Which are fake, by the way.”

  “Don’t you get it? That’s the problem. Everything about that girl is fake.”

  “So she enjoys a nice spray tan. Is that really a deal breaker for you?”

  I smiled at the waitress when she set our breakfasts down before turning my attention to the whipped butter melting on the center of my Belgian waffle.

  “That wasn’t a hypothetical question,” he said, freeing his cutlery from the paper napkin on his side of the table.

  “I’m sick of women batting their eyelashes at me over dinner only to have them come off in my bed later. Is that so crazy? Is it so dysfunctional to want someone who’s not desperately ashamed of how she looks? Or even someone who hasn’t blatantly forgotten that what’s on the inside actually matters, too?”

  “Libby’s nice.”

  “Nice doesn’t call the waitress ‘excuse me’ all night.”

  He cringed. “Did she really?”

  I nodded. “How’s that for a deal breaker?”

  “Fine. So Libby’s not the one. The point is, you can’t keep dating your mom.”

  I laughed. “I’m not dating my mom.”

  “She’s the only person you make plans with anymore.”

  “Not true,” I said, deciding to withhold the fact that Gemma and I were going out Saturday. “She just has a long bucket list, and I don’t know how much time we have to get through it.”

  “You’ve been at it for over two years.”

  “Next week we’re going ballroom dancing,” I said, ignoring him as I cut into the seams of my waffle. “I can’t remember if we’re starting with the foxtrot or the cha-cha.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t make that face. I’ll be able to dance circles around you when I’m done.”

  “I’m not making a face. I just wish you could muster up the same enthusiasm for the gym. Or women your own age.”

  “I’ll have you know, my mom is an excellent conversationalist.”

  “You sound gay.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Not to be morbid,” he said, “but what are you going to do when you reach the end of her bucket list?”

  My expression fell. “You mean when she dies?”

  “I don’t want to think about it any more than you do, but—”

  “That’s enough,” I said, giving him a look.

  He clenched his jaw.

  “Eat your breakfast,” I said, pointing my fork at his plate. “I don’t want to be late for work.”

  E I G H T

  - Gemma -

  He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Every time I insisted I could make my own way to dinner, he pretended he couldn’t hear me. And when he finally fixed his eyes on me Saturday morning and asked why I was so hell bent on depriving him of a few extra minutes of my company, I realized I didn’t have a good answer.

  So here I was, peeking through the blinds of Jeanie’s living room, waiting for him to pull up. It wasn’t until he got out and stood beside the car, his hands in his pockets as his eyes swept over the building, that I realized how nervous I was.

  I don’t know why. It was just dinner with an old friend, right? Except it was more than that. It was dinner with the first boy who ever made me feel like a girl, and while he’d never know what those summers of friendship meant to me, having him back in my life had made me feel more buoyant than I had in years.

  And I needed that right now like crazy, especially after the way Ray tore me down for so long. God knows why I stayed with him. I knew every time he cussed me out, talked down to me, and called me names that I deserved better. Yet I took it from him time and time again.

  I was still trying to figure it out. Was it because I thought he was the only one that had the guts to tell me the truth to my face? Was it because, on some level, I did believe that I was worth less because I was overweight, that I deserved less because I struggled with self-discipline? It was hard to say. All I knew was that there were worse things than being alone, and now that I’d experienced them firsthand, I wasn’t afraid anymore.

  I’d hit rock bottom and gotten back up. I’d survived. And things were finally looking up for the first time since that ill-fated night we met. I remember how he’d defended me at the bar when his friend said, “You look like you could swallow my whole dick and still have room for dessert.” To think I thought he was a nice guy…

  If only I’d known then that nice guys aren’t friends with people who talk like that.

  I forced the awful memory from my mind as I made my way down the stairs to the entryway, careful not to eat shit in my heels. Perhaps I’d overdone it with the emerald dress and the makeup and the shaving every stray hair on my body, but Alex had seen grimy, fresh-faced me all week. I wanted him to know I was capable of a little glamour and that my wardrobe wasn’t all workout clothes.

  He must’ve wanted to demonstrate the same, because he was wearing a crisp white button-up shirt that fit him so well my mouth started to water before I reached the curb.

  “You look stunning,” he said, pressing his cheek to mine.

  My face burned. “Thanks.”

  “If I’d known you had a dress like that up your sleeve, I would’ve begged to take you out on Tuesday.”

  I rolled my eyes as he opened the passenger door, avoiding his intense gaze as I took a seat in the compact car. After he closed me in, I studied the fit of his dark jeans as he walked around to the driver’s side, my stalking eyes interrupted only briefly by the platypus Beanie Baby on the dashboard.

  He sank into the driver’s seat and turned the key, which was attached to a platypus keychain, too.

  “I didn’t know you were such a fan of the platypus.”

  He laughed, and my stomach flipped when his eyes crinkled at the edges. “I’m not. This is my mom’s car.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mine’s in the shop.”

  “Nice of her to let you borrow hers,” I said, picking up the scent of his aftershave in the enclosed space.

  “Yeah,” he said, checking his mirrors before pulling out into traffic.
“She’s the best.”

  I studied his large hands on the wheel and wondered what if would feel like to have him squeeze me like that. When a curl of heat rose through my stomach, I turned my attention out the windshield and reminded myself that I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

  Not only was it ridiculous to think this would be the start of anything besides a rekindled friendship, it wasn’t even an option. We worked together now, and my job was literally the only part of my life that hadn’t been completely derailed in the last year.

  “So where are we headed?” I asked.

  “There’s this place I’ve been dying to try in the West Loop.”

  I raised my eyebrows. It never occurred to me that he might take me all the way downtown.

  “That’s why I was so adamant about picking you up.”

  “We really don’t have to go to that much trouble. I’d be fine with local grub.”

  He stopped at a red light. “Well, that makes one of us,” he said, turning to me. “I cringe at the quality of the meals we’ve enjoyed together in the past.”

  One side of my mouth curved up. “Is that your way of telling me that there won’t be any dry cornbread at this place?”

  “No dry cornbread and no watery beans.”

  I scrunched my face at the memory of the way the camp food used to lie lifeless on those tarnished metal trays.

  “I called ahead to make sure.”

  “At least tell me there’ll be juice boxes?”

  He shuddered. “I forgot about those.”

  “They weren’t so bad.”

  He dropped his chin.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “They were the worst. Especially the grape flavor.”

  “This place has a reputation for having an extensive beer menu, actually.”

  “I’m more of a wine girl myself.”

  “I was hoping.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Getting you drunk is part of the plan.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Not too drunk,” he said, his concentration on the road ahead as he turned onto Lake Shore Drive. “I don’t want to have to carry you to bed on the first date.”

  My mouth fell open. “That’s very presumptuous.”