Boss's Virgin - A Standalone Romance (An Office Billionaire Boss Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “It’s fine if you do,” I said. “Feel free. Enjoy.”

  I didn’t wait for her to respond; I just got in the truck and drove away.

  *****

  I took a detour on the way home and just ended up driving, the road unfurling in front of me in a straight line. By the time I’d finally made it back onto the Cape, I’d decided I’d just break it off with Chloe. Whatever “it” was. I pulled my phone out of the glove box. I wasn’t going to text or call her now; I would let her know in person. I kept one eye on the road and the other on my phone as I scrolled through the names, looking for Francesca.

  26.

  Chloe

  Graham took off before I had the chance to say what I really wanted to. I’d spent the entire duration of the race trying to think of just what the right thing to say would be, because I knew some sort of explanation was in order. Even though nothing had happened between me and Parker, and wasn’t going to.

  But I knew the second I saw him by his truck that he wasn’t going to be interested in hearing whatever it was I had to say.

  When Parker came over to me, I was still just standing there in the same spot, looking in the direction that Graham’s truck had gone even though it had long disappeared.

  “Hey,” Parker said. He’d changed out of his bike clothes and had a polo shirt and a pair of shorts on, but he looked worn out, his hair still slick with sweat, mud spatters dotting his cheeks. “So, how is it you know Graham?”

  I turned away and forced a smile. “You know,” I said, “I don’t actually. I don’t really know him at all.”

  *****

  It seemed as though no one could wait to hear how my outing with Parker had been; on the drive back from the race, my mother kept texting me, asking how it was going, and then Tara got in on the text action, saying that if I got back in time, we should go out to dinner, but not to worry if I was going to be out all night ....

  “I’m normally way more energetic after a race,” Parker said, “and I usually like to go swimming or out to eat or whatever, but I am wiped.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “So, you mind if I just drop you off back at your place?”

  “That’s totally fine,” I said. He smothered another yawn. “Maybe you should go take a nap. I know if I had to do a race like that, I’d probably sleep for a week. Well, I doubt I’d actually even be able to finish.”

  “You get used to it,” he said. Neither of us had said anything about Graham coming in first. Graham himself didn’t look like he even gave a shit, and he left before the they’d handed out the medals, so the highest step on the podium had been empty. “Although, I’m feeling much less used to it than normal. I swear—I know it probably just sounds like a bunch of lame excuses—but I really am usually feeling so much better after a race.”

  My mother was sitting out front in one of the Adirondack chairs, with a glass of iced tea and a book. I was sure to Parker it looked like a completely normal scenario, but she had moved that chair from the backyard to the front, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her sitting outside with a book.

  “Oh!” she said, putting the book down and waving.

  “Don’t feel like you have to stay and mingle,” I said.

  He was already getting out of the car. “I can at least get out and say hello.”

  “How was it? Did you have fun? Look at the two of you!” My mother sounded like she was about to burst with excitement.

  “Well, it was a rather poor showing on my part,” Parker said. “It certainly wasn’t my best race.”

  “That’s okay!” my mother exclaimed. “Why, I’m so impressed that you’re even out there to begin with! Now, how many miles was it?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Now, that is just super human!” She widened her eyes and looked at me. “Could you imagine that, Chloe? Riding a bike for thirty-two miles? And not just thirty-two miles, but thirty-two miles over rough terrain, am I right? It’s not on pavement, now, is it?”

  “You’re exactly right,” Parker said, and my mother beamed. I smiled wanly.

  “Anyway, Mom, Parker was just saying how tired he is, so he’s going to head home,” I said.

  “Oh, really? Would you like to come in first? Have some lemonade?”

  “Mom, we’ve been driving for a while and he’s had a long day.” Ew, she was like totally enamored with him.

  “Next time,” Parker said. “Chloe’s right; I just want to get home and take a shower and maybe a nap.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll just give you two a minute. Nice to see you Parker, looking forward to seeing you again!”

  She hurried off, not back to her chair though, but inside, leaving the two of us standing there.

  “Errr, sorry about all that,” I said.

  “What, your mom?” He shrugged. “She seems nice. Anyway. Thanks for keeping me company today, I had a good time.”

  He started to turn for the car door but then hesitated. He came over to me and we both just stood there.

  “Well,” I said, “thanks for—”

  He leaned down and kissed me, just a peck, not like a real kiss, but I turned my head at the last second and he ended up kissing the side of my face, but not my cheek, lower, almost my jaw.

  I felt my face starting to get hot, but he seemed completely unbothered. “I’ll see ya around,” he said. And then he got in his car and drove away.

  *****

  The last thing I wanted was to be interrogated by mother about what our day had been like, so I texted Tara back and said I could meet up with her. She said she was melting in this heat and wanted an iced latte, so we agreed to meet down at the local coffee shop, Staccato.

  We sat at one of the outside tables, under the umbrella, sipping our iced lattes.

  “Spill,” Tara said. “All the details. Tell me.”

  I grimaced. “It’s not as awesome as you think. I think I really messed up.”

  She looked at me curiously. “Uh-oh. What happened?”

  “What happened is we ended up seeing Graham. At the bike race. I had no idea that I’d run into him there. I mean, what are the chances?”

  “What was he doing at the bike race?”

  “He was in it! He was doing the race. I had no idea.”

  “So how’d that go?”

  “He wasn’t psyched.”

  “You had no way of knowing he’d be there; it’s not your fault. You weren’t doing anything wrong.” Tara shrugged. “Am I missing something here? What is the problem? I mean, it’s not like he walked in on you guys doing it, did he?”

  “No, nothing has happened between us!” I yelped. “I agreed to go to the county fair, because he came to my house and asked me and my mother was right there and if I said no, I’d never hear the end of it from her. We had fun, but it wasn’t like this great romance between us or anything. And then he asked me about the bike race and it just seemed like something else fun to do, and I just agreed without really thinking about it.”

  “Because you did nothing wrong. You just need to talk to Graham. If he’s bothered seeing you with someone else, that means he actually likes you.”

  “Or does that mean he’s really possessive and controlling?”

  Tara frowned, thinking. “Controlling is not good, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a little possessive.”

  “I guess I just don’t know the rules for all of this. I mean, do I assume we’re going out because we slept together?”

  “Oh, hell no! No, you do not. The whole relationship topic is actually a conversation you have to have, whether or not you guys are boyfriend/girlfriend or just casual, or what. I mean, assuming is all well and good until one person assumes one thing and the other person assumes the exact opposite. Just look at me and Michael! I assumed that everything was fine between us and he was probably thinking about that other girl! If he had actually grown a pair and talked to me about this before just going out and sticking his dick in the first pretty thing that cau
ght his eye, then we might have been able to salvage our relationship. I think you just need to talk to Graham. Just be a mature adult.”

  “The other thing this made me realize was that Graham and I don’t even really know each other that well. If we did, I would’ve known that racing bikes was an interest of his. But I had no clue.”

  “I’m hearing a lot more about Graham than I am about Parker. How’d it go with him? Did he wear Spandex? God, he must’ve looked good.”

  “He tried to kiss me when he dropped me off.”

  “Oh my god! Tried? What happened?”

  “Well, no, I guess he did kiss me, but I turned my head and he ended up kissing me here.” I gestured to the lower part of my face. “It was actually kind of awkward. Except he didn’t seem that bothered by it. Is he just one of those people that is completely unbothered by that sort of thing? Like he’s that confident? I’d be mortified if I tried to kiss someone and they turned their head at the last second. But he didn’t seem phased.”

  Tara pursed her lips around the straw of the latte and nodded. “Yeah, I could totally see someone like him being like that. Which is kind of an awesome way to be, if you think about it. I totally hear what you’re saying—I’d be freaking out and obsessing over it for days too, if I tried to kiss someone and they turned away like that—but maybe it’s better that he’s just, you know, not freaking out over it.”

  “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “Well, what matters,” she said, “is why you turned your head. Um, hello? When someone like Parker goes to kiss you, you don’t turn your head.”

  “But I wasn’t hanging out with him because I wanted us to kiss.”

  “Why were you hanging out with him then?”

  “Honestly? To get my mother off my case. I figured if we hung out a couple of times, I could tell her that I’d done it and it wasn’t going to work out and she should just leave me alone about it because she clearly sucks at matchmaking.”

  Tara smiled. “I think it’s kind of cute that she’s being so proactive about it.”

  “You’re giving her way too much credit; she’s not being proactive, she’s being a pain in the ass. Anyway. I mean, yeah, I admit that there was a little part of me that was kind of in disbelief that I was even hanging out with Parker to begin with, but you know what? He’s just a guy. Yeah, he’s better looking than a lot of guys, but he’s just, you know, a person. And we had fun, but I like Graham. I would’ve rather gone to the race with Graham than with Parker.”

  Tara sighed. “If only I had your problem,” she said. “Trying to decide which gorgeous guy to spend my time with. Well, Chloe, it sounds like you just need to go talk to Graham, then.”

  “I know, you’re right.” And she was. But I wanted to think of exactly what I would say first, because I wanted him to understand that this whole situation was not at all what he probably thought it was.

  *****

  I’d have this talk with him in person, I decided, but I texted to see if there was a time he wanted to meet up. A whole day, and then another, went by without a response. I sent him a second text.

  Wasn’t sure if you got my first message, but I’d like to see you. When is a good time to meet up? Or should I just ambush you at the shop again?

  I hesitated and then added a smiley face before I pressed send, not wanting that last part to come across as a threat.

  Still no response.

  I tried not to feel annoyed. And then that annoyance turned into anxiety. I texted once more, no words this time, just a question mark.

  Still, nothing.

  From Graham, anyway. Parker had texted the day after the race and asked if I wanted to take his dad’s boat out and hang out on Pleasant Bay. He said he was feeling much better and felt that he needed to make up for the other day and show me a good time. And boating on Pleasant Bay actually sounded like fun, but I told him I was pretty busy working on my sculpture project for the next few days.

  No worries, he wrote back, almost immediately. I’ll be in touch!

  I sighed, wishing that it was Graham who was so prompt in responding and eager to hang out, not Parker.

  27.

  Graham

  Is this a booty call?

  That was what Francesca texted back to me when I asked her if she wanted to come by the shop.

  Because if I remember correctly, my next appointment with u isn’t scheduled until next week.

  I couldn’t think of anything witty to reply. I just wanted to have the kind of sex that didn’t involve a lot of talking or verbal foreplay.

  Something like that, I wrote back.

  I might be able to oblige u. Am actually in ur ‘hood. Be by soon.

  I almost didn’t respond, but then typed a quick: OK.

  I was at work. I was at work and there was always the possibility that a customer could walk in, though it was mid-afternoon and that was generally our slowest time. Even so, I didn’t actually give a shit. Besides, I was the boss here, so I could—within reason—do whatever I wanted. And right now, this was what I wanted to do.

  A few minutes later, I heard the door open. I looked up, fully expecting it to be Francesca. It wasn’t though—it was Chloe.

  She’d been texting me ever since the race and I hadn’t gotten back to her. Not because I was trying to play immature games or anything, but because I knew she’d want to talk, and try to explain this whole thing with Parker, and then I’d probably have to end up telling her that this summer was supposed to be about shit being drama-free and that just wasn’t happening so far.

  “Hi,” she said, walking over to the counter. “I ... I was texting you but I hadn’t heard anything back. So I’m stopping by. Because I need to talk to you about something, and I wanted to do it in person.”

  “Okay,” I said, because I wasn’t just going to demand she leave. I could at least hear her out. I just hoped that Francesca wasn’t going to show up while she was still here. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say, but make it quick because I’ve got another customer coming any second.”

  She took a deep breath, like she was about to start reciting something in front of a classroom. “Look,” she said. “I’m really sorry if it caught you off guard, seeing me at the race with Parker. Like I said, nothing has happened between us, and I guess I just really don’t know the rules for how you’re supposed to be when you’re seeing someone.” Her face started to get red. “But that’s just the thing—I didn’t know if we’re actually seeing each other. Like, I know we’re sleeping together but ... but what else does that mean?”

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but it really doesn’t have to mean anything. As in, it’s fine if you want to hang out with Parker, or whoever you want.”

  “It’s just so confusing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  The thing was—she was right, it was confusing, but we were confused for different reasons. I just wasn’t used to feeling like this toward someone, and it kind of scared me, not that I would ever actually admit that out loud. It wasn’t just that Chloe was attractive—I’d been with plenty of hot girls before and hadn’t had feelings like this. It was more like I wanted to be with her, not just for sex, but because I liked being around her. Some guys might welcome that sort of feeling, but for me it was foreign, completely unexpected, and not entirely comfortable. In other words, something that I just didn’t want to deal with right now.

  So, I tuned her out. She was still talking, and I was standing there, looking at her, nodding every once in a while, but I wasn’t actually hearing any of what she was saying.

  And then I saw Francesca pull up and park, right out front of the shop. She came breezing in, a big smile on her face. She was wearing an incredibly short pair of shorts, showing off those long, muscular legs of hers, and a black tank top that was just short enough to show off the thinnest strip of her toned midriff.

  “Hey there, han
dsome,” she said. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.” She looked at Chloe. “I’ll just wait in your office until you’re done with your customer.” She sauntered off, and though she didn’t say exactly why it was she was there, it was pretty clear.

  Chloe watched her go, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. “Who’s that?” she asked softly.

  “That? No one. She’s a customer. And a friend of mine.”

  “Oh.” She nodded slowly, biting at her lower lip. She kept looking toward the back, as though she was expecting Francesca to reappear and explain exactly who she was to me. “I think I’ll go.”

  There was a part of me that wanted to stop her, that wanted to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought it was—even if it kind of was. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and watched her walk out of the shop, and even when she turned and looked at me as the door was closing behind her, I still didn’t say anything. Francesca was out back in my office, waiting for me, and Chloe was walking out, after telling me she was sorry. And here I was, standing in the middle of it, feeling like shit.

  *****

  Francesca was stretched out on the chaise lounge, looking like she was about to indulge in a late morning nap. She opened one eye when I came in.

  “I feel like such a harlot,” she said. “But I kind of like it.”

  I leaned against the side of my desk and looked at her. “I think I called you down here for no reason,” I said. “I’m not ... I’ve got to get to work.”

  “On that customer out there? I can wait.”

  “She’s not ... never mind. No, she left. I’ve got some other work I need to do. I’m just not ... it’s just not a good idea.”

  Of course I felt like a complete asshole, having called her to come down here, and now here I was, changing my mind. But ... no. I just couldn’t, not because part of me didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t want to invite anymore bullshit into my life.

  Francesca raised her eyebrows and gave me the are you fucking kidding me? look, then she let out a long sigh and sat up.

  “Can I give you a little advice?” she said.