Boss Girl (Minnesota Ice #2)

by Lily Kate

  I don’t trust myself not to give everything away, so I forgo a retort on his term of endearment. Before leaving, I swipe the photo from his desk.

  “Tell my newest client hello for me, will you?” Andy calls after me.

  Once again, I don’t have the willpower to respond.

  However, I do find it in me to smile.

  As I walk out the front door, I look down at the photo, and I know exactly what I must do. Because on that dotted line there was a signature, but it didn’t read Landon Boxer.

  He’d left me a sign, and thank goodness I hadn’t been so blinded that I missed it.

  Instead of his own name, he’d signed mine. With one tiny addition—my first name, and his last name.

  Jocelyn Boxer, I murmur, trying the name on for size. Not half bad.

  Even better, it was a little sign from him that he’d been thinking of me, and a simultaneous message to Rumpert. Nobody is coming between us.

  I climb into the car, grinning like a madwoman which spikes Lindsay into overdrive mode. “Where to? Tell me what happened in there, boss.”

  “What’s that reporter’s name who keeps calling?”

  “Diana, why?”

  “Get her on the phone, please. Now.”

  Chapter 41

  Boxer

  “And she lives happily ever after.”

  “Dad!” Charli shrieks. “You can’t just say that and skip half of the story.”

  “I didn’t skip half of the story,” I grumble, smoothing my daughter’s hair back from her forehead. We’re in my parents’ home, curled together in the room where I grew up as a child. Charli’s eyes had been closed, her breathing somewhat heavy, and I’d thought she’d passed out pages ago. So, I’d skipped to the end of the book.

  Apparently, that wasn’t the case. The girl slept with one eye open and had Rapunzel memorized backward and forward.

  “Tough crowd, huh?” I tell her.

  “Flip back to the part where she lets her hair down,” Charli says. “You’re not pulling the wool over my eyeballs.”

  I prepare to resume the story, a reluctant smile taking over as I remind myself to slow down and enjoy this moment. Time has already flown by far too quickly—last time I looked, Charli was a pink cheeked infant. Today, she’s six years old, and smarter than me.

  But there’s an anxiousness underneath all of the goodness, the sweetness of being united with my little girl. Jocelyn hasn’t called me, hasn’t texted me all evening. I landed a few hours ago, and with the time change, it’s evening here, bedtime already.

  I should’ve heard from her by now.

  Charli’s eyes sink closed again, but every time I slow my reading, my own eyes drowsy from the lack of sleep the previous evening, she pinches me gently until I keep going.

  On the third pinch, I realize my mind has been wandering, and I’ve been reading the same words over and over again for the last few minutes. Charli’s eyes have left the pages of the book, and have turned to watch my face.

  “What’s wrong, dad?”

  “Wrong?” I shift, straightening in bed. “Nothing’s wrong. Just lost my place.”

  “Ten times.”

  I sigh and reach out to draw her closer to my side. “Fine, I have something on my mind. And I’d like to talk to you about it.”

  “Okay.” Charli scoots higher, too, pulling her favorite blanket with her. “But you still didn’t finish the book.”

  “We’ll finish it,” I promise. “But first, I want to talk to you about Jocelyn.”

  “What about Jocelyn?”

  “What do you think about her? Do you like her?”

  “She’s nice. She’s pretty, sort of like Rapunzel.”

  I laugh at the image, but it’s not completely wrong. Long blonde hair, the only difference being Jocelyn rarely wears it down. “What would you say if I wanted my happily ever after to be with Jocelyn?”

  “You love her?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “More than me?”

  “In a different way than I love you.” I pull Charli to me, kiss the soft skin of her cheek. “Nobody can ever compare to you.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay!” She yawns. “You want to marry Jocelyn?”

  Again, Charli’s ten steps ahead of me, and it’s throwing me for a loop. “I think I’d like that, eventually. For now, though, I want to know if I have your permission to date her.”

  She frowns. “I thought she was just your business friend.”

  “She was...” I sigh. The benefits of having an intelligent daughter are balanced out by her using that perceptiveness against me. “But I want that to change. It already has a little bit, but before things change anymore, I want to make sure it’s okay with you.”

  “Are you going to start leaving me at nights to go away with her?”

  “No! No, not at all. It will just mean the three of us spend more time together.”

  “Will she live with us?”

  “Maybe down the line, if we decide to get married.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay... what?”

  “That sounds good. Can you finish the book?”

  “Oh, uh... sure. Do you have any questions?”

  “Can you finish the book?”

  “About Jocelyn. I want to make sure it’s okay with you, honey.”

  “Dad.” Charli wiggles around until she’s facing me. Her hands circle around my wrists as she looks into my eyes. “Rapunzel gets to live happily ever after. You should, too.”

  “Charli—” I’m stunned into silence, but it only lasts a moment.

  “Can we keep reading, please?”

  I smile, nuzzle in against the comforter as the story, this time, sounds weightier. Almost a little too close to home, despite the magic and witches and fairytales between the pages. Who knows? Maybe there’s a bit of magic in this world, too.

  I continue, flipping pages until we’ve reached the last one. Finally, the words The End appear with sweet relief, and I kiss Charli’s bouncy curls goodnight as her eyelids flutter with dreams.

  I make my way into the living room to say goodnight to my parents. They’re both waiting up, and I can see in their eyes I’m not getting off easy. They’re chatterboxes by nature, and my mother’s got this look in her eye that means she’s got some questions she wants answered.

  “Where are you off to so quickly?” she asks. “Charli’s down for the night?”

  “She is,” I say. “Rapunzel knocks her out every time.”

  My dad sits next to my mom, his eyes half closed. He’s more interested in snoozing in his chair, but my mother likely dragged him to the kitchen table. His only incentive to stay here is the glass of whiskey she fixed him.

  “So...” My mother says, her birdlike nose pointed in the air. “Did you have a nice trip?”

  “I did.” I lean against the edge of the table, knuckles curled over the back of the chair, but I can tell it’s not going to be enough. Even so, I give it one last go. “I’m pretty tired, so I might hit the hay—”

  “Take a seat, honey,” my mother croons. “We barely see you these days. Give me five minutes of your time.”

  I heave myself into the seat.

  “Want some whiskey?” my dad asks. “Get it yourself. It’s in the kitchen.”

  I wave it off. “Playoffs Friday. I’ll pass this time.”

  “Good job, honey,” my mother says. “We’re proud of you. Aren’t we, Arnold?”

  My dad grunts and takes a sip of his drink.

  “Yes, we are,” my mother repeats. “But more importantly, we hear you have a new best friend.”

  Neither of my parents are particularly wowed by my career, my money, or the hint of fame that comes with it. Keeps me humble.

  If anything, I felt their disappointment when Lauren left harder than anything. They didn’t blame it on me, they just... wanted to see me happy. With a neat little family unit just like the
ir own and, though it came from a good place, it hurt me, too.

  I wanted that family unit. I wanted a wife, and I thought I’d wanted it to be Lauren. I’m not sure if they ever understood that. For my mother, a woman who lived for her children, she couldn’t understand why a woman would ever want to leave her family. She always suspected there was something else going on when, the sad truth was, I just wasn’t enough for her.

  I’d given up on arguing a long while back. My dad probably had a stern talk with my mother about it, and since then, we’ve ignored the issue. The missing mother, the absent wife. My lack of interest in finding either.

  “And which little birdie told you this?” I ask, stalling.

  “Well, Charli of course,” my mother says. “She catches onto a lot, you know. Pays to be careful what you say, who you introduce to her.”

  “I am very careful, ma.”

  “She seems quite taken with your new friend.”

  “Her name is Jocelyn, and you can stop calling her my friend. We’re dating.”

  My dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hell hath frozen over.”

  I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Look, I appreciate the support, or whatever this is, but I’m a grown man. I can handle my own affairs, and I can handle how I raise my daughter and who she meets. Thank you for the input.”

  “Oh, honey, we’re not trying to get those undies of yours in a twist,” my mother says. “Honestly, we’re just here to help. I am just wondering why we haven’t heard anything about her before?”

  “Her name is Jocelyn Jones, and we met through work,” I tell them. “She’s a sports agent, and she’s fantastic at her job. She’s beautiful, and smart, and kind, and if you come down and visit, you’ll get to meet her.”

  “Meet her?” My mother appears on the verge of shock. “You are going to let us meet a woman in your life, Landon Boxer?”

  “God, ma. Not if you’re going to act like this.”

  “Steven told us that—”

  “Hold on, you’ve talked to Steven about this, too? I thought you said Charli.”

  “Well, we had to do our research once we heard you had a special friend,” my mother says. “Steven says she’s very beautiful. I can’t believe your brother met her before us. Your own parents!”

  “Bring her up here,” my dad says. “I hate the city.”

  “You live in San Fran,” I tell him. “That’s a city. LA is an hour flight.”

  He snorts in derision.

  “Arnold, we’ll go visit. When can we visit, honey?” My mother looks between us. “Come on, boys, cooperate.”

  “After playoffs,” I tell them, standing. “Now, I have to get going. I have a phone call to make and sleep to catch up on.”

  My mother spreads her arms wide, and I play the dutiful son as I make my way around the table and wrap her in my arms. She feels small, more fragile, and I’m reminded that she’s not growing younger. I clasp her a little bit tighter, warmed by the scent of cinnamon rolls lingering on her clothes.

  “Love you, ma.”

  “Thank you for coming, honey.” My mother’s nails dig into my shoulders. “You can tell us things, you know. We’re very happy for you.”

  My dad claps me on the shoulder, and that’s as much affection as I’ll get from him, which is fine by me. We have a no emotions are good emotions policy between us.

  “I will, ma. Come and meet her. I think you’ll really be pleased.”

  “As long as you’re happy.”

  When I straighten, I’m surprised to find tears in her eyes. She’s got blue eyes like me, and there’s a happiness radiating there, the same sort of happiness that I feel when I think of Jocelyn Jones.

  “You love her, don’t you?” she whispers.

  I smile and bow my head. “I do.”

  My mother reaches out and clasps my father’s hand in hers. Then without a word, she nods and waves me off with her hands. As I leave the room, I hear the gentle sound of sobs—happy tears, I assume—and my father’s sympathetic grunts.

  I get my emotions from my father.

  Except for the underlying current of nerves that’ve had my stomach in knots all evening. I know that I threw the contract with Andy Rumpert and signed a mixture of Jocelyn’s name and my own, adding insult to injury, but did she? Had she stormed straight to his office the second he spilled the news like I expected, or had she assumed the worst?

  I pull out my phone and debate waiting for her to call me, but that’s a dick move. I’m not playing games; I want her to know my intentions loud and clear. If Jocelyn and I don’t work out, it’s not going to be for lack of trying.

  I’m a grown man, a father, and I know what I want. Her name is Jocelyn Jones, and I’m going after her.

  Luckily, she picks up on the first ring. “Thank God,” I groan. “I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I’m so sorry, I assume you’ve heard the news,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I saw it.”

  “Saw...”

  “The signature.”

  There’s a coolness to her voice that I can’t quite place. “And?”

  “Clever.”

  “Are you upset? Look, I should’ve talked to you first, but everything happened so fast.”

  “Did you know about the meeting the day before?”

  I run a hand through my hair. Her voice isn’t accusatory, but there’s a thin line of curiosity there. “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell me about it.”

  “Rumpert surprised both of us in the dressing room—I had no idea he’d be there. I only agreed to a meeting with him because he wouldn’t get the hell out of there, and I wanted to be alone with you. I swear.”

  “And the rest of the night, it didn’t come up?”

  “No, because I had other areas of focus.”

  She gives a light laugh, and I take this as a positive.

  So I continue. “Seriously, Joss. We did the shoot, and after that, I had about two thoughts on my mind.”

  “I can guess one of them, but what’s the other?”

  “Besides getting you into bed, I had to let you know how I felt. I hadn’t planned to tell you I loved you, but... I do. I did then. I mean it and I meant it, and that’s why the idiot didn’t enter my mind. I forgot about it right up until the meeting.”

  “I’m not mad,” she says softly. “I just wanted to hear you say that. I love you.”

  “I love you too. I need to see you this week—tomorrow when I get back.” I pause, rub a hand over my forehead. “Shit, I have practice. And the next day, Charli’s got something at school. With playoffs—”

  “Hey, stop talking,” she says gently. “I’ve got a better idea. Take this week to get back on schedule. Spend time with Charli. I stole you for the whole weekend, so I can be patient. Friday night, after your game, maybe we can make plans.”

  This woman is a godsend. I can’t afford to focus elsewhere on the week of playoffs, but for her I would, if it meant I could keep her. “Do you mean that?”

  “I do,” she says. “Friday night.”

  “When Rumpert realizes what happened—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says, her voice soothing. “I have a plan. Let’s just wait until Friday, and we can talk in person.”

  “Friday it is,” I tell her. “Joss, before I tell you goodnight... do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  I nod, swallowing hard. “Good. I should’ve talked to you before the meeting, I know. I’m sorry. But when he pulled out those photos, I didn’t think, I just reacted and—”

  “I get it,” she says. “Thanks for calling. I hope you finished Rapunzel first.”

  “Yes, but you might have to meet my parents.”

  “What?!”

  “Goodnight, Joss,” I tell her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight, Landon. Sweet dreams.”

  I climb into bed, the sound of her
words fresh on my ears. When I dream, it’s of holding her close, and when I wake, the bed is too cold and empty.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, I move into the room where I slept as a child and join Charli. She curls into my arms, a warm little figure, and finally, I rest.

  Chapter 42

  Jocelyn

  Friday night begins with a plan.

  I hang up the phone with Boxer, smiling about the evening ahead. He’s supposed to go on and win his game. I’m supposed to watch from the stands, and then head straight to his house afterward where Marie and Charli will surely be waiting up. He’ll deal with his post-game business and meet us at home.

  To say I’m anxious is an understatement. Between his schedule and my workload, we haven’t been able to see one another all week. It works out fine, really, since I have a surprise for him that wasn’t ready until tonight.

  “Headed home,” I call to Lindsay as I pack up my things from the office. “I’m sorry there wasn’t an extra ticket. I could’ve used moral support.”

  “No problem,” she says with a grin in my direction. “I don’t think you’ll miss me as much as you think. I’m going to watch it from home with Mark.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “The boyfriend’s still going strong?”

  “Knock on wood,” she says. Then she raps her knuckles against the desk with a cheeky wink. “You and me both. Look at us being adults and romantic and all of that crap.”

  I do something I rarely do, but I’m in a giddy mood. I waltz around the desk and pull her into a hug. “Mark is a lucky guy.”

  “Oh, boss,” she groans. “I don’t know how to handle the new you.”

  “The new me?”

  “Emotions and hugs, and all of this...” She gives a faux shudder. “You’re so... human.”

  I shake my head, making my way to the door. “Oh! The thing with Diana? How’s that coming along?”

  “She has it ready. Swing by on your way to the rink.”

  “You’re a rock star. Don’t stay late today, okay?”

  “Date with Mark, remember? I’m going to close up as soon as you leave.”

  I head down and retrieve my car, pulling it onto the streets of LA with just a hint of nerves fluttering in my stomach. Two hours until game time, and I have so much still to accomplish.