Daddy Boss (A Boss Romance Love Story)

by Bishop, Claire

  “Have you? It seems to me you’re all hung up on the guy, even though you don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know that he’s a hard worker and that he makes a lot of money.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “I—You know what? I don’t need to explain myself. I already agreed with you.”

  “You’re pretending to agree with me. Come on. We both know it.”

  I glared at her. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Ooh, no,” she said. “I am not going to let you compare that beast to Alex.”

  “The boy smoked so much weed he went cross-eyed.”

  “We’re not doing this.” She walked out of the kitchen. I started scrubbing a plastic refrigerator container. If I let the dishes pile up, I was going to be there till two in the morning.

  “Hey,” she said, ducking her head back in. “Did Mr. Beetle come in yet?”

  “Why?” I finished scrubbing the container then moved onto another.

  “I’m kinda worried. What if he does something?”

  “Like what? Roll a cigarette in the lobby?”

  “No, Zoe. I mean it. Did you see the way he acted last night? He’s obsessed with you.”

  “I’m not sure what to think about that. I think he’s just strange.”

  “What about the way he acted when he saw those guys talking to us?”

  I finished another container and started scrubbing a metal mixing bowl. “Yeah, but he jumped back like he thought he was going to get shot when they put the car in reverse. I’ll bet he’s harmless.”

  “Do you really want to take that risk?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Call the cops when he comes in. Tell them that you told him to leave, and he won’t. They’ll arrest him, and he’ll be out of your hair.”

  “That’s vicious.”

  “It’s smart. At least tell him not to come back.”

  I dropped the sponge and started washing my hands. “I don’t think he’s gonna come in after we humiliated him like that. He’s so sheepish.”

  “I don’t call following you to a bar ‘sheepish.’”

  “We’ll just take it one step at a time, okay?”

  “Fine,” she said and walked back into the lobby.

  I felt like I was sleeping, moving through things without even thinking about them, all while envisioning what it would be like to float up into the sky in Archer’s arms. I was shocked out of my reverie by the sound of my phone ringing in my pocket.

  “Hello?”

  Chloe ducked her head in.

  “Zoe?” the voice on the phone asked.

  I stopped what I was doing. “Archer?”

  “Yeah,” he said. It was strange hearing him laugh as if he were embarrassed. A man like him wasn’t supposed to get embarrassed. “I’m sorry to bother you. You’re not working, are you?”

  “No… I mean, I am, but it’s okay.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry about last night. You must’ve been exhausted.”

  “I was, and I’ve been meaning to apologize about that. I was up all night working the night before, and the night before that.” He sighed.

  “That’s all right.” There was a pause. “Archer?”

  “Would you like to go to dinner with me on Saturday night?”

  “I don’t know.” I was going to make him want it.

  “Yes, you do.” He was immune to my tricks.

  “Where do you wanna go?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll surprise you with something wonderful.”

  I blushed. Chloe was shaking her head. “No,” she mouthed. “No.”

  “Come on.” He was smiling. I could hear it. The man loved being in control.

  “Saturday’s fine.” Chloe threw her head back in frustration. I waved my hand to shoo her away, but she dug her feet in.

  “Good, what time do you get off?”

  “It’s my day off. How does eight sound?”

  “That’s perfect.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you then.” I hung up.

  Chloe stepped closer. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “But you don’t know for certain, and neither do I.”

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Being careful is the last thing on my mind.” I grabbed a tray of pastries and brought it out to the counter while Chloe followed behind me. “It’s a risk, and that’s part of the thrill.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that I found a man I want, and he wants me. I’m willing to go from there.”

  “As long as it’s not Mr. Beetle.”

  “Chloe, that’s disgusting. I’d never get that smell out.”

  “You know you want it.”

  “I most certainly do not.”

  We spent most of the rest of the day going back and forth about Archer. Chloe was dead set against my meeting him, but I didn’t care what she thought. She didn’t see what I saw.

  Chapter Nine

  Archer

  The week went by slowly. I kept second guessing myself, thinking that I was making a mistake in calling Zoe, but every time I pulled out my phone to call her, I thought about the first time I saw her leaning against the bar. I felt like I could identify with her right away. That’s what made her so dangerous. It wasn’t just a physical infatuation. It was the way she moved, the way she talked. Everything about her screamed discipline, hard work, and that aching need to succeed.

  She’d given me a taste, and now, I needed more. I couldn’t control myself. I spent more time thinking about her than I did working. Messages piled up for two days straight, and all I could do was stare into space imagining what it would be like to move inside her, to touch her, and to bring her to that point where nothing else mattered but that feeling. The look on her face would be reward enough.

  This was too big of a risk. It was wrong. Maybe that’s what made it so exciting. I’d been pent up in my office so long that I was starting to act out. It made sense, considering my rigid lifestyle. This could be one of my biggest mistakes ever.

  But that didn’t stop me. More than once I thought of calling her, just to hear her voice and exchange a few words, or maybe stay up all night like two hormone-crazed teenagers who couldn’t get off the phone, but I knew that she probably wouldn’t have time to talk.

  I was lying in bed early Saturday morning when I heard Abel crying. I knew it was him because he was usually the first one to go off, but his brother joined in right away. Together, they filled my room with their terrible howling as I reached into the mini-fridge to pull out their bottles. I checked the clock before I left the room. It was six. Finally, two days of sleep in a row.

  The boys were a lot easier when they were hungry. I sat them down side by side in their swings and took a seat in between them so I could feed them both at the same time. After a few minutes, they both started to get drowsy and fell back asleep. I actually did it, and on the first try, too. I felt like dancing.

  Saturday was usually when I could spend all day with the boys. I would get them dressed and take them out somewhere. I wanted them to experience things as early as possible so they could get used to the world. But this Saturday was different. I’d been so distracted this week, work had turned into a nightmare. So, instead of bonding with my sons today, I was stuck in my home office trying to focus.

  It wasn’t easy. Every time I looked down at my computer, I saw myself walking up to Zoe. She’d be smiling, glad to see me. She’d wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me. We’d lay in bed together for hours, talking about the things we wanted to do and how we wanted to make our lives better.

  We’d probably only have the one night, and it wouldn’t be enough. But maybe it was better that way. I was an independent man. A woman would probably just hold me down. She’d invade my space and try to start telling me what to do, and I’d just end up getting tired of her.

  By six o’clock, I was holding my
head in my hands, so worried I nearly forgot all of the paperwork I needed to go through. What was wrong with me? I barely knew this girl, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It’d been a long time. Maybe this was me projecting my desire onto her.

  I didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she owned a bakery and that she seemed to be a hard worker, but even that was enough to lure me in. I kept thinking about how uncomfortable she seemed when I first saw her. Maybe she wasn’t happy. Maybe her life was terrible, and I was talking to the wrong woman. That would’ve been easier. At least then I could stop thinking about her.

  Mona called at six-thirty. “How are the boys?” she asked.

  “They’re fine. They’re playing in their cribs.”

  “Have they been fussy? Did they wake you up last night?”

  “No, they’re fine. They’re a little tired though. Maybe when you get here, you could give them dinner. That way they can fall asleep in the car.”

  “You never fail to surprise me. Where did you come up with a genius idea like that?”

  “Months of grueling torture and hard labor.”

  “That sounds about right. I’m pulling up now.”

  “I’ll see you in a minute.” I got up out of my chair, still dazed from having sat there for so long. Mona meant the world to me. She made it possible for me to be a single father and still run a successful business, and that was a blessing.

  I met her at the top of the stairs when she came in. “What are you wearing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at my gray t-shirt and old jeans.

  “I don’t know.” We walked back into my room. “What should I wear?”

  “Something casual. The first date is all about trying to prove you’re not a psycho. The worst thing you could do is show up in a dress shirt. She’ll think you’re too into her.”

  “What about this?” I pulled out a tight gray sweater. It was a gift from Cara.

  “No, it’s knitted. It doesn’t look right.” She walked up to the closet and started pushing hangers aside, moving from one shirt to the next. Then she stopped. “This one.” She held it out for me to see.

  It was a simple black v-neck. “It’s too small.”

  “That’s the point. You’re built like a gorilla. Show it off.” Having an octogenarian tell me that was kind of awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice. She moved onto my jeans. “Something tight, but not too tight. You don’t want to give everything away on your first night.”

  “That’s a generational thing.”

  “No, it’s a moral thing, but you still don’t want to look like an idiot.” She handed me a navy-blue pair of fade-wash jeans. “Go try those on. I wanna see how it looks.”

  “Okay.” I felt like she was my mother. She acted like it, or at least, I think she did. I never met my mother when I was growing up, but I imagined she’d be just like Mona.

  “What do you think?” I asked when I walked out.

  “Turn around and lift your shirt.”

  “What? Why do you want me to do that?”

  She walked around behind me and lifted my shirt up. “That works.”

  “Are you sure my butt looks good? You don’t wanna take another look?”

  She walked around to face me. “Now you listen to me.” She pointed a finger at me. “You treat that girl like there’s nobody else in this world that matters, and don’t you dare hurt her, or I will kill you myself. You understand me?” I nodded my head. “Good.” She reached up and gave me a hug. “Now, where are you taking her?”

  “Francisco’s.”

  “That hole in the wall? No, it’s got to be something nice, but not too nice. You don’t want her to think you’re about to give her a ring or something.”

  “What about Murphy’s?”

  “That’s better, and don’t eat too much. Use your manners. You might not notice it at the time, but if that girl has any sense, she’ll watching everything you do.”

  “She was when I met her, and she’s coy about it, too.”

  “Good, that means she’s immune to your bullshit.”

  “Mona…”

  “You know I’m just joking.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She left so I could get ready.

  I was so nervous. I know that it didn’t make any sense. We’d basically agreed to fuck at this point, but for some reason, I kept worrying about what she’d think about me.

  My impermeable confidence seemed to melt away when I got into the car. I was so sure that Zoe wanted me. She did want me, but at this point, there was nothing I could do to ease my anxiety. I just had to push through and hope that things went okay.

  Zoe lived in a corporate owned apartment complex on the north side. It was a decent place, but it was small. I couldn’t imagine somebody as wonderful as her living in a place the size of my living room. She deserved a palace as majestic as the Taj Mahal, not a cockroach-ridden closet.

  I parked in the back lot and turned off the car so I could find my bearings. I couldn’t walk up there looking like an adolescent boy who just figured out he liked girls. I had to be confident, cool, and calm. That woman could probably smell weakness, and I wasn’t about to let her see me unless I was at my best.

  A quick spritz of breath spray and a look in the mirror, and I was ready to go. She lived on the other side of the back building in a one bedroom on the first floor, where she had a small collection of potted plants sitting next to her door. They were all herbs. She must’ve been growing them for her cooking.

  I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Just a second.” She sounded frazzled like she was rushing around the apartment. When she did open the door, there was flash, like we’d both seen something shocking, and we both went quiet.

  She was wearing a pair of jeans and a purple shirt that hugged her curves so tight I nearly dragged her back into the bedroom.

  “Hey,” she said finally.

  “Hi.” We started walking back to the car together.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said.

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  If she didn’t like them, then I wasn’t going to give them to her. “It’s a restaurant called Murphy’s Downtown.”

  “I love that place. They have the best scampi.”

  “And their meatball marinara.”

  “Like it was shipped in from an Italian kitchen.”

  I nearly laughed, but I just didn’t have the energy. I was putting up a good front, but inside I was ready to explode. Was she watching me? I took a peek out of the corner of my eye. No, she was staring straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be so quiet.”

  “I don’t mind.” I started the car and put it in reverse.

  “So, this has been killing me all week. Obviously, you’re not a millionaire, not with a house that big. You have to have more than that. I don’t mean to scrutinize, but…”

  “But what?”

  “It’s just—you never told me what you did for a living.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You said it was worse than a drug dealer, and you don’t want to tell me what you do, which means you probably work for the government or the mafia.”

  “Technically.”

  “Technically, what?”

  “Look.” I pointed out the window to my right where the airplane graveyard was sitting in the waning light.

  “You’re a pilot? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I built a company that designs aeronautical equipment.”

  “That’s crazy. How did you manage that?”

  “I started out as a mechanic and worked my butt off. Then, the right people started noticing.”

  “You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?”

  “I couldn’t be anything but. It’s a part of who I am.”

  “I feel the same way,” she said.

  We got off at the downtown exit and parked the car in a lot across t
he street. When we walked in, the hostess was staring down at her phone. As soon as she saw me, her eyes went wide. She jumped up and took us straight to my booth in the back room. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

  “Wine?” I asked Zoe.

  “Fine by me. I’ll have a water, too.”

  “We’ll get a bottle of merlot,” I told the hostess.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’ll be back with your drinks, then.”

  Zoe was looking around the room. It was dark with burgundy walls and lamps in the corner. I watched her, not even trying to hide my interest. There was no point. “I have a question.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “What is the one thing you love more than anything else?”

  “Baking.” She didn’t even hesitate.

  “Why?”

  “Because I love to cook, and baking allows me to be creative. What about you? What do you love?”

  My boys. “Flying.”

  “You can fly?”

  “When I have a free moment. It’s been years though.”

  “Too much work?”

  “It seems like it only gets worse with time.”

  “I am thoroughly convinced of that.” The waitress came and took our orders. We both got the scampi.

  When the waitress left, I found myself sitting in an awkward silence, tense and unsure of what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to click. We were supposed to fuck and part ways, not get entangled in some demented mess of emotions and insecurities. Maybe I was jumping ahead. She probably just didn’t know what to say, but neither did I.

  To my relief, it didn’t take long for the waitress to walk back over with the wine. “Here ya go.” She popped open the bottle and poured our glasses. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, I think we’re fine,” Zoe said. When the waitress walked out, Zoe turned to me. “So, you’re not in the mafia, and you’re not working for a bunch of corrupt pigs in Washington.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what’s the catch?”

  I had two screaming infants living with me. “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “That’s for you to figure out.”

  But that took time and effort, and it didn’t seem to me like she was willing to put up with all of that. She wanted to know for certain that I was the right one. I couldn’t give her that certainty. I couldn’t even bring myself to accept that this night wasn’t a huge mistake.