Bossy Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Nicole Snow

  Thud.

  Crash.

  Slowly, I turn to face the noise.

  Paige crouches just outside the entrance of the patio, picking up pieces of a broken mug.

  “I’m the only idiot here,” she hisses, her voice is so quiet I barely hear it.

  “I’ve got it.” Nick slips past me and bends down beside her, gathering up the mess.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “You seemed upset. I thought some tea might calm you guys down.”

  Nick’s voice is gentle, tense. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

  She nods, her shoulders dropping, wiping at her eyes.

  “Paige,” I say.

  She stands and stares at me. Tears stream down her face. She’s pallid, bone-white, hugging herself like she’s been sliced open and has to struggle just to hold herself together.

  And I’m the goddamned butcher holding the knife.

  If I’d heard her say what I just did—fuck. I can’t even think about it.

  My gut dives and crashes so hard it almost doubles me over.

  Par for the course when I’ve just dashed my whole life against the rocks.

  “Paige—” I step toward the entrance, trying to find the words, begging my brain to work.

  She throws up her palms.

  “Just stay back. Please? I...I can’t right now.” Her voice is so small, hurt, timid.

  Another sucker punch plows my gut, a hideous realization. I was so worried about my parents crushing her, I just did it for them.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I take another step toward her, a strangling lump in my throat.

  Before I can reach her, the sliding glass door slams shut between us with a rattle, and she walks away.

  “How long was she there?” I ask Nick, not even bothering to face him.

  “Long enough, you chucklefuck.”

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “I tried, stupid! You were on a tirade.”

  The worst part is, he’s absolutely right.

  I yank on the door and almost rip my arm off.

  “Shit. She locked us out.”

  Can’t blame her in the slightest. I stand on the balcony, looking through the glass with no way to move forward.

  “Now what?” Nick asks.

  My foot flies up in answer. I kick the door. The glass rattles in the frame but doesn’t break. High-end materials are made too well.

  “Hey, cut it out! Have you lost your mind?” Nick roars.

  Yes, and I need to go find it.

  Another savage kick makes a crack in the glass.

  “Ward, get ahold of yourself. Jesus. What are you doing?” His hands are on my shoulders, trying to rip me back, but I’m not a sane man anymore.

  I’m frantic to save my heart from drowning in my own wretched quicksand I poured.

  Desperate, mad, and single-minded to save what I could’ve had with her, but was too chickenshit to admit.

  “What does it look like?” I yell, my third roundhouse kick shattering the glass into beads. “I’m going after her. If people see her like that, news of our scam will be all over town.”

  “That’s not why you just kicked your own door in!” Nick hisses. “At least be honest. Be honest with her if you won’t be with me.”

  God, when did my little brother grow a brain? It scares me.

  “You’ve got Grayson’s number, tell him to call somebody to fix this mess.” I pull my jacket up over my face to miss the jagged glass bits still hanging around the edges and pound the floor to my bedroom.

  Paige isn’t there, and she’s not in the guest suite either.

  I tread back to my room and open the closet door. A few of her outfits are still hanging up, but most of her clothes are gone.

  She’s left me.

  Just like my parents did.

  No, this is different.

  She didn’t leave because she doesn’t love me enough. She left because I practically told her to her face that I don’t love her, and never will.

  Because I was no better than that frat boy dick-wit who stabbed her in the heart years ago, and now I may have just bled the last sweetness out of her.

  I told her I have a heart of stone.

  I lied like the lying bastard liar of a Wardhole I am. I’d might as well have kicked her heart to pieces rather than the door.

  She can’t leave.

  I need her in my home. I need her in my life. I need her because—because I just do.

  With a gnarled breath in my lungs, I rush to the front room just in time to catch the tail end of her lavender suitcase going out the door. My shoes squeak on the tile and I almost fall in my mad rush to catch her.

  “Paige. Paige, wait!” My voice doesn’t even sound human. More like a hundred-year storm.

  Maybe I should just let it go.

  This way she’s not mixed up with my dysfunctional family. She doesn’t have to lie anymore. She doesn’t have to sink to my hell-bound debauchery.

  But can I really leave it like this and still have a pulse? And what about Winthrope?

  Taking a fierce, deep, soul-ripping breath, I follow her into the hall and chase after us.

  25

  Done Dirty (Paige)

  His front door slaps shut behind me and I’m thankful for the barrier between us.

  Tears roll down my cheeks like an avalanche. I wheel my suitcase to the wall and pause to catch my breath, collecting my thoughts.

  Will I ever learn? It’s just like Austin. No, it’s worse.

  I was the effing placeholder. Again.

  And this time, I can’t even blame him. At least he was honest about his intent to use me from the start. He just wanted a prop for a business deal. I agreed to be his cardboard cutout for over a million bucks and was stupid enough to get swept up in a lie.

  How many idiot awards do I win?

  But it’s not all my fault.

  Why deliver the kisses, the caresses, the sunshine looks that made me trust make-believe?

  Why make love to me every night and then hold me and ask me to stay in his room?

  Why?

  Because I was convenient. Good enough for now, but not forever.

  Duh. Not marriage material for a Brandt.

  The glassy tears staining my face won’t stop. I collapse to the floor, fold my face into my hands, and sob.

  “Paige.”

  His voice is so infuriatingly calm I swear it’s in my head. He couldn’t have found someone to let him in this fast anyway—I locked the door intentionally—and even if he did, it’s not like he cares.

  Great. So now I’m having Wardhole hallucinations?

  My sobs become painful spasms.

  But a strong arm hooks around my waist and lifts me to my feet. Ward’s familiar hand is under my eye, gently wiping at my tears.

  I’m too stunned to speak.

  “I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Paige. There are no words,” he begins slowly. “I never wanted things to end. Not in this horrid, messy way. You’re a brilliant woman, and I respect your work. If it weren’t for the contract, the whole damned situation, I would’ve told you sooner—”

  “Screw you and your contract,” I say, my voice hitched.

  “Paige—”

  Nope. Not doing this. The instant he says my name, I’m straining against him, and my nails accidentally rake his arm.

  He stumbles back, his eyes like dusk, gazing in shock at the two thin red lines I’ve left on his arm.

  “I...I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, the endless tears assaulting me again. “Just stay away! We’ve only got a few weeks left if it’s your stupid arrangement you’re worried about.”

  He stares at me slowly and nods, his face sinking like he finally gets it.

  “Fair enough. You’ll get your money. I promise.”

  He looks damaged. Whipped. Raw.

  If I weren’t even more torn up inside, I might feel bad for him, but I steel myself for the madness o
n the tip of my tongue.

  “Screw the money, too. Just let me go. I don’t want this anymore.” My eyes pinch together. I wanted to say you instead of this, but lying doesn’t come easy to me.

  Unlike him.

  “Paige, please,” he growls.

  “Can’t have me making a scene, right?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I want you getting what you’re entitled to.” His voice is a chemical explosion, lurching between bruised whispers and furious pleas.

  “I said keep your dirty money out of my life.” I push the ring off my finger with my other hand and throw it at him. “Keep your ring, and keep your hands to yourself. I’ve still got the deposit and my dignity. That’s enough.”

  But I’m not even sure I want the fricking deposit anymore for my trouble. I’ll probably send it back, but I’ll decide later with a cooler head.

  I manage to fight back another wave of crippling tears until I’m on the elevator. Then I burst into unabashed death sobbing. Technically, my car is in Ward’s garage, too, but I can’t drive like this.

  I could call Brina, but I don’t want to drag her into my pit, if she hasn’t jetted off with her hubby to some happy tropical place. I want to be out of here like now.

  I text Reese. Do former employees still get one more ride?

  She pings me almost instantly.

  What? Where are you? And what happened?

  The penthouse, I text back.

  On my way!

  In the meantime, I find a visitor bathroom in the lobby to hide in, lock myself in a stall, and bawl until my eyes hurt. When my phone buzzes, I’m still ugly crying my soul out.

  I wash my face in the sink, cross my arms in front of my chest, and bite my lip. Even after running cool water over my eyes, it’s still obvious I’ve been ruined.

  Somehow, I make it to the Lincoln without tripping on my own misplaced feet.

  Reese turns around and looks at me with a gasp.

  “Oh my God. Should I kick his ass, Paige? I’m ready!”

  She throws the driver’s door open, her hair flapping as I realize she’s fully intent on marching up to Ward’s door.

  “Reese, no. Just take me home. Please.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She shuts her door and puts her seat belt back on. “The old apartment, right?”

  I hug myself and nod. Good thing I kept paying rent after all.

  “What Neanderthal thing did he do?” Reese asks gently, pulling the car onto the road.

  “Nothing.”

  “C’mon.” She scoffs. “I never knew nothing could be so...harsh.”

  At this point, why lie? I shrug.

  “He doesn’t love me, Reese.”

  “That’s...a little hard to believe,” she says carefully. “I mean, not that the Brandt boys are awesome at being honest or healthy or even sane with their feelings. Believe me, I know.”

  I’m half tempted to ask what her deal is with Nick, the rumblings she’s hinted at before, but I just can’t.

  I’m also tempted to tell her the truth, but she never signed the NDA, and I’m not about to toss away my professionalism. “He just...he doesn’t love me. That’s the long and short of it. And all I can say per the NDA.”

  “NDA?”

  Oops. I didn’t mean for that to slip out.

  “Nondisclosure agreement,” I whisper.

  “Wha—you mean, the Warden broke up with you and made you sign an ND-freaking-A? Oh, he’ll enjoy his next ride to work, let me tell you.”

  I manage a bitter, barely there smile.

  “I still don’t believe he doesn’t love you, by the way,” she adds a minute later. “Before you, I never thought Ward and flowers could coexist in the same universe without a black hole opening.”

  “Then you’re as naive as I am.” A poison laugh falls out of me but soon turns into uncontrollable tears.

  End me.

  I’m never going to live this down, am I? At least I’ll be gone before everybody in the office hears about it.

  “Oh, I hate seeing you like this. I hope he’s a hell of a lay to put up with this trash.”

  I wipe my eyes and sniff until my nostrils bend in. “I’m not putting up with anything. This was pretty final, but yeah. He has a PhD in horizontal acrobatics and judo kissing.”

  Reese snickers. “TMI about the bossman.”

  “Sorry, you asked.”

  “Fair.”

  She pulls up in front of my old apartment a short while later.

  “You sure you’ll be okay alone? Maybe you should stay with a friend tonight? Or family. You have folks around here, right?”

  “I’m fine. It’s not like this is my first rodeo being dumped.”

  Technically true, only this feels like a mess of scorpion stings to the heart.

  I fling the car door open.

  “I’m telling you, he loves you. I’m sure of it,” Reese insists, trying and failing to make me feel better.

  I bite my lip. “And I’m telling you you’re wrong. Love isn’t something he does, not after this. He didn’t even know I was there, standing behind him when he said I meant...basically nothing.” My chest feels hollow.

  “Jackass!” she hisses.

  I shake my head.

  “No, just a Wardhole who handles his emotions like a stick of dynamite. Thanks for the ride.”

  I shut my door and head upstairs.

  The second I collapse on the couch, I’m texting Brina. Come bearing alcohol. Do not bring Maggot. Single people don’t need to see kissy faces. TY.

  Brina: Who’s single???

  Me, I type, feeling a shot to my chest.

  Brina: But your contract isn’t up yet! And what happened to the moves he was making? Last I checked, you looked anything but single.

  I wince as I type, Amazing show, wasn’t it?

  Brina: ...you’re joking?

  Nothing funny about the Winthrope crap, I send, twisting my lips as I add, Or Wardholes with empty shelves where their hearts should be.

  Brina: Paige, I’m coming.

  I sigh with relief. Thank God. Don’t forget liquor!

  With the cavalry coming, I turn on Netflix, looking for a happy distraction until Brina arrives. It doesn’t help. The cushions on the couch sink under my weight. I nestle deeper into my body-shaped indent and dry sob.

  How was I ever blind enough to think a man like Ward Brandt was interested? And how could I be that dumb twice in one lifetime?

  Prince Charmings are a myth, and even when they’re not, they definitely don’t fall for sculpting nerds who compare their handsome, grumpy, heart-stabby faces to the stars.

  We’re face-to-face. Skin on skin. Soul in soul.

  Connected.

  But I still need it deeper, both the thrust and the burn of his kiss.

  As if he can read my mind, he plunges deeper, marking me with the fire in his lips. My legs tighten around him.

  “Paige.” He breaks our kiss on a torrid groan.

  He pulses inside me, his stubble rakes my throat, and his eyes are a little mad in the way that always sets me off. My body responds, clenching around his, twining my tongue in his rasping mouth like I want to be consumed.

  “Don’t ever leave me. Promise?” He rolls off and cradles me.

  “Promise,” I whisper.

  His lips are about to brush my forehead when—

  A harsh tapping noise yanks me from my dream. Memory? Memory-dream?

  Ugh. What planet am I on?

  The banging starts again.

  “Paige, it’s cold! Let me in.”

  Cold? How long have I been zoned out?

  I pull myself up and stagger to the door with my eyebrows knit together. “It can’t be cold. It’s still summer,” I say.

  Brina hits me with the widest grin. “Yep, but it got you off your butt. Nice to see you too.”

  I laugh. “Get in here.”

  “How not okay are you?” she asks, reaching
into the bag swinging from her hand. “I’ve got four pints of ice cream, half a carrot cake, a whole box of Heart’s Edge truffles from Sweeter Grind, and...oh, yeah. The big guns. Wine or lemon vodka?”

  “I’m...surviving, so it’s your call,” I say.

  “You’re too pretty so don’t take this the wrong way, but lady...you look like a crap sandwich,” she says with a worried look.

  “Thanks,” I say with a snort.

  “That’s it. We’re baking a pie. I’m going to catapult it right in his face.” She sets the bag on the counter and starts pawing through my cabinets with a focus that makes me laugh.

  “Brina, no. Just stay out of it.”

  She turns back with a smirk. “You don’t mean that. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.”

  Dragging myself over to the couch, I collapse again.

  “True. But don’t make it worse. No point.”

  “How could it be worse? He’s a giant heartbreaking douchebag with a billion dollars. Reason enough to take him down a peg or fifty.”

  I shrug—but can’t because I’m sunk too deep in the couch.

  “Also, you pied my husband. It’s my turn at the karma wheel serving up justice!”

  “If Ward shows up here, then pie-bomb away. But don’t get too excited. He’s not brave like Mag. Also, I think he’d have to care first to come over, and he doesn’t.”

  She sighs, then pulls out a couple glasses for the wine. “What exactly did he say? I saw the way he looked at you. Hard to believe it meant nothing.”

  “He said it was time to end this before I got more obsessed. Oh, and he doesn’t love me or anyone else because he’s a freak who can’t fall in love.”

  “Wow. At least he’s not subtle.” Brina hands me a wineglass filled to the top.

  I throw back half my drink in one long toss, and choke when I remember a single glass of wine was what got me into this mess. Kinda.

  Setting it down with a clink, I go back to leaving a Paige-sized impression on the sofa.

  “Um, you might want to pace yourself,” Brina says, lowering her wine. “If you need water...”

  “It’s like the opposite of last year, isn’t it?” I ask morosely, ignoring her offer.

  “Last year?” She acts like she doesn’t get where I’m going. “Oh. That worked out pretty well after a mountain of drama, didn’t it? There’s nothing my husband won’t do for me, and I don’t mean to brag, but...knowing what we had to lose just made us stronger.” She smiles, transported to a better place than my miserable apartment.