Dare to Love My Grumpy Boss: Romantic Comedy (Forever Marriage Match Book 1)

by Ellie Hall

  “And possibly outrun a storm,” she adds.

  “One thing at a time, sweetheart,” I say in response to her calling me Indie.

  She sticks her tongue out at me.

  I force myself not to laugh.

  As we continue to follow the road, Cora starts singing. Her voice is pleasant, but it’s sure to draw attention to us. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.

  Humans? Good, probably.

  Predators? I won’t let myself think about that.

  She goes through a few show tunes that are familiar and then belts out a pop song. The girl has zero inhibitions. Then again, likely there isn’t anyone around for miles.

  “We should probably keep it down,” I suggest.

  “Why’s that, Boy Scout? I’m singing to scare away the bears,” she sings the words to the tune of a Disney song.

  “I told you there aren’t any bears.”

  She waves her hand toward the edge of the track. “Fine, to scare away the other things out there.”

  “We have a long way ahead, and who knows—”

  She goes silent. “Yeah, who knows what’s out there.” Her sunny demeanor goes as dark as the rainforest interior beyond the road.

  “We should probably concentrate, Cookie,” I say, mostly to take her mind off the task ahead—the one that isn’t on the laminated card. “Find a place to spend the night.”

  “Stop saying Cookie. It reminds me of food, and seeing as you only have protein bars...” She starts talking about baking while my mind wanders to @CookClickChick and our recent exchanges.

  I’d told myself to be careful. I was apprehensive to put myself out there. She seemed okay with taking things slow. After a long time alone and only dating sporadically, I thought maybe she could be the woman for me. Now, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a girl who hates me and who Rick pitted against me in the merger. No way would Rick fire me, which only means one thing. She is going to be let go.

  Although, if Rick made us partners, that must mean he thinks that she’s my equal. Interesting, in terms of leverage. My gears turn as I think about how we could spin this situation so Cora and I both keep our jobs. She may despise me, but the guys are playing dirty pool and I want nothing to do with it.

  Shame on them for sending the tech team into the jungle to see who’d come out on top. If I have anything to do with it, they’ll both soon be on the bottom. With the swipe of a few keys, I could make their companies vulnerable. Not that I would because that’s unethical, but despite the power they think they have, I’m the one in control.

  Except right now.

  Not of this situation.

  Not of my pulse whenever Cora’s arm brushes mine which happens every few paces. The same charge of electricity I felt when my computer pinged with a message from the HUB zings through me. I shove it away.

  “And the pancakes I made last week were...” Cora pinches her fingers together, giving them a “chef’s kiss.”

  “What?”

  “Are you even paying attention?” she asks.

  I mumble. No, I’d hardly been paying attention because I’d been thinking about the pancakes @CookClickChick had been describing the week before and the crepes and the quiche. Boy, I could go for a hearty brunch.

  “Then I moved onto sandwiches. I’m thinking of trying my hand at homemade pasta next—”

  I stop abruptly on the road. “What did you say?”

  Her face falls. “Sheesh. I’ll shut up. I’m just hungry. You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

  I shake my head rapidly. “That’s not what I meant.” My mind races as I connect strings of data. “Do you use the HUB?”

  “Of course.” She tucks her head back as if that should be obvious.

  “No, there’s no possible way,” I blurt.

  “There is, and it’s called a user key and password.” The look I get is like I’m a simpleton.

  “I meant there is no possible way about the pancakes.”

  She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Shaw Dawson, I may not know my way around the wilderness, but I am competent in the kitchen, thank you very much. It happens to be my passion and those blueberry pancakes with whipped ricotta and lemon zest were delicious. Unconventional, maybe but definitely delish-ical.”

  “What?”

  “Delicious and radical. Eighties slang is making a comeback. Get used to it.”

  I step closer, observing this funny, smart, and slightly stubborn woman.

  Yup, definitely delish-ical.

  11

  Cora

  I don’t understand why Shaw suddenly looks so alarmed. He turned pale. Is there another giant spider behind me? Worse?

  Defying the laws of nature, I’m suddenly a snowman in the tropical rainforest. Frozen. Terrified. My stomach tightens.

  But I’d rather see the source of my demise, look it in the eyes, and put up a fight than have it stab (or pince? Spiders have pincers, so they pince, right?) me in the back.

  I slowly turn around. According to this overgrown Boy Scout, we established the most deadly creatures in the Amazon are jaguars, some kind of lizard thing, a toad, and the spider—I’ve named it Webster. I say it’s better to get on a first-name basis with your fears than let them call the shots. Well, most of the time.

  I breathe a sigh of relief not to be suddenly cast as Little Miss Muffet, sitting on my tuffet, eating curds and whey. (I don’t know exactly what that is, but assume it’s gross. Though right about now, I’d try a bite. My stomach now echoes the thunder in the distance.)

  “No spiders, jaguars, lizard beasts, oh, it must be a toad.” I give Shaw the stink eye for trying to scare me.

  (Also, the toads are named Shaw because he is one and not the kind I’m going to kiss with the hope that he’ll turn into a prince.)

  Where’s the sun when you need it? He remains frozen, his lips parted slightly as though the words he wanted to speak are lodged there.

  “Okay, the joke’s over. Let’s get moving.” I flick my hand forward a few times.

  Shaw doesn’t move a muscle. Maybe he has some kind of freezing disorder and forgot to take his medicine.

  I swallow thickly. “Are you okay?”

  Thunder rolls in the distance again.

  “We should probably find shelter. Come on.” I start walking again.

  He still doesn’t move.

  I stop. “I can’t read minds, so you’ll either have to tell me what’s gotten you freaked out or get moving.”

  “@CookClickChick.” Shaw points to me.

  “Yeah, that’s my HUB user name. So what?” My shoulders bunch up by my ears and then drop. Where is he going with this?

  He points to himself. “@PacManWizard.”

  If this were a reality TV show, the camera would zoom in on me as I do a double-take. It would be comedy gold, only I’m not laughing.

  “Not only do you think you can out-survive me in the wild, but you’re going to play mind games too?” I march over and thrust my finger in the air. “Nuh, uh. No way. I’m backed by four friends who may as well be sisters. Combined, we’ve got enough crazy to make you wish you lived here permanently.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  I cock a hip. This is going too far. “Listen, today has been long enough. No, scratch that. I’ve pretty much been awake since yesterday, so it’s just been one long stream of unpleasantness. If you’re here to tease me or trick me or try to take my job...no way, buddy. Not happening.”

  I take a step back when I realize my finger stabbing the air turned into me poking him in the (very firm) chest.

  “You wanted to control-alt-delete last week from the database,” Shaw says.

  “Common phrase.”

  He tilts his head.

  My stomach swims. “As though that would be enough evidence to prove your identity.”

  “The wedding.”

  Remember that snow that had me frozen? It’s melting, sending a cool prickle along my back
. No. Shaw is not @PacManWizard. No way a guy so sweet could turn out to be someone so gruff...and hot in a melt-my-heart in the jungle kind of way.

  No. I’m not having it. There has to be an explanation. Lightning illuminates the sky and my thoughts. “You’re a hacker. You probably got into the HUB through some sneaky backdoor and were spying on me. You co-owned DigiPower. Rick probably told you that we’d be partners so you could look into my background and try to take my job.” That didn’t make total sense because why would he want my job? He’d said he could do just about every job at the company. He could probably have his pick. Still, something doesn’t add up and I’m not letting him off easy.

  “Barry Winslow. A 1956 Dodge with a V-8 that sounds something like—” Shaw cuts himself off at another rumble of thunder—exactly what my seatmate on the flight had mentioned his classic car’s engine sounded like.

  “That was my last email to PacManWizard@iMail.com.” My voice is a whisper in the wind.

  He nods slowly.

  The fact that Shaw knew that information is downright creepy. I shuffle backward.

  He takes a step closer. “You’re the girl I’ve been messaging then emailing.” He flashes our thread on his phone’s app.

  I lift my gaze and meet his chestnut-brown eyes. “But you’re nothing like @PacManWizard. You’re cocky and mean and—”

  “And I helped you out back there.” He makes a crawly motion with his fingers and then hacks with the edge of his hand.

  “Thanks for that.” Color rises to my cheeks. “I’d been so irritated by the stupid survival challenge and infuriated by you that I’d forgotten my manners.” Where’s a cave when I need one? Forget shelter from the rain, I’d like to hide right now. My lips twist and my nose wrinkles. I could just curl up into a ball and live under one of these logs, I’m so infuriated and confused and lost. Literally lost, but now there is an added complication.

  “When it rains, it pours,” I mumble.

  “Don’t speak too soon.”

  I glance up toward the canopy of trees and then back to Shaw. “Listen, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry for being so—”

  His expression softens. “And me too. I apologize for acting like a—”

  “Baboon. A real buffoon—” I start to say, ready to let Shaw have it, but at that moment, as clouds gather and darken the sky, Shaw is like a beacon...a connection to my real life.

  The one I want to get back to.

  But another crack of lightning reminds me that this is real life. Not a virtual reality exercise or filmed for entertainment.

  Somehow, this terrible situation pulled us from our respective anonymous safe zones behind our computers and thrust us together.

  It’s so hot I feel like I’m in a sauna wearing polyester. No, a vinyl suit. A perspiration factory. Is there anything less attractive for our first meeting?

  In my mind, Shaw goes from being an arrogant jerk to the guy I’d developed a serious crush on over the last few months. His gaze on me transforms from harsh and judgmental to easy and accepting. The air between us hums with possibility at this revelation.

  Or that could just be electricity with the approaching storm and all.

  I shift from foot to foot. “We were thrown into this stupid situation. It’s no surprise we haven’t been acting the best versions of ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees. “Speaking of this situation—” He holds his palm up to the sky as the first drops of rain start to fall. It’s nearly dark.

  “This situation is less than ideal. Do you think we’ll make—”

  He doesn’t let me ask the question about whether or not we’ll make it. Instead, he takes my hand, wrapping his big fingers tightly around mine, and takes off running.

  The terrain is uneven and more than once, I stumble, but Shaw doesn’t let me fall nor does he let go. Not even when we stop at another crossroads.

  “No signs,” I say, catching my breath.

  “But those tire tracks look fresher than the others.” He gestures to the right. “It’s a wonder the Jeeps made it along there. It’s hardly a road. More like a lumpy trail. A mule would be hard-pressed to get through.”

  “Mules are highly underrated animals.” I make a sound that’s a cross between a bray and a whinny—much like how a mule is a cross between a donkey and a horse.

  Shaw looks at me like I’m either the oddest or funniest person he’s ever met. I’ll go with the latter.

  “People think that mules and donkeys are stubborn, but they actually display a high level of common sense and self-preservation when given the chance.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “My grandparents were part of the Mule and Donkey Heritage society. We inherited a hinny when they passed. I wish I’d paid more attention to nature and had been paying attention to the road while in the Jeep instead of brooding about being here,” I say.

  “Or refreshing my email to see if you’d written back.” His eyes flash with a wink in the low, cloudy light.

  Warmth against the chill of the rain washes through me.

  Once more, we start off. Rain pounds down. It’s as though it washes away the previous tension between us, replacing it with something else, something far more pleasant.

  “I could go for an umbrella but won’t complain again about the humidity making my clothing damp,” I say.

  Shaw crowds close to me, a human overhang, sheltering me from some of the rain.

  We take several more turns and are completely drenched.

  “Forget looking like an ostrich. If I were to take a selfie now, I’d resemble a drowned rat.”

  Shaw stops. “No, you look adorable. Cute.” His lips quirk. “A real tro-gre if I’ve ever seen one.”

  I playfully whack his arm.

  He meets my gaze for a fleeting moment as we hurry through the forest. “For the record, you are very pretty. More beautiful than I imagined.”

  “Yeah, because you envisioned Fiona from Shrek.” I whistle one of the songs from the movie under my breath to keep myself from commenting on how much he does not resemble the green ogre.

  Tall, muscular in all the right places. A striking jawline that’s now growing in a flattering amount of stubble. And those eyes. So deep. So rich.

  As we continue to walk, my mind tracks away from who I’m with to where we are. Finding a place to spend the night starts to feel hopeless.

  “Are we going to have to BOOS?” I ask.

  “Boo, like a ghost? Are you afraid? It is nearly dark.”

  “No, Build Our Own Shelter.”

  “We do have the tarps and rope.” He slows. Then says, “Do you hear that?”

  Between the rain and the humidity in the air, I’m overheating, but a slippery feeling creeps down my spine at the mention of ghosts and the dark. Can jungles be haunted?

  “I hear rain.” And the hammering of my heart—it’s doing triple time from running, Shaw’s proximity, and from uncertainty about what we’re going to do.

  He holds his hand to his ear as though that will help him hear better. “It’s like a door is repeatedly slamming against a frame. Listen.”

  The rainforest is noisy from the creatures that live here, never mind the rain and thunder. All at once, a flash of lightning illuminates our surroundings like a split second of pure daylight.

  I glimpse the outline of a house—a very haunted-looking one or I may have been imagining things. “I thought I saw something there.” I point to the left.

  We creep closer with Shaw leading the way. If this were a feature film, everyone in the audience would be shouting, Don’t go into the house. Stay on the trail. Why are they so dumb?!

  Desperate times call for dumb measures, folks.

  Sure enough, there is a cabin in the woods.

  I wince. “The haphazard wooden slats, roof littered with leaf debris, and the way it’s sitting out here all alone confirm that it’s definitely possibly haunted.”

  “Definitely possibly?” he
asks.

  Without giving me a chance to answer or expand upon these very valid concerns, Shaw drags me along an even rougher road and toward the shelter.

  We pause outside a small cottage with a front porch and thatched roof. He passes me the flashlight and clicks on his phone light.

  Upon closer inspection, it isn’t the worst. “On the scary scale, it’s more like the gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel than a horror movie house.”

  “I wish we had another option, but—”

  “You do know what happened to Hansel and Gretel, right?”

  Shaw chuckles (he chuckles!) as he pushes open the front door that he’d heard thwacking against the frame from the wind. I expect to hear an evil witch disguised as a kindly granny to start cackling.

  Thankfully, the place is empty, but ghosts are invisible when they want to be, right?

  “This will be fine.”

  “It’s smaller than my apartment in Boston and that’s saying something.”

  “It has a roof and walls.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they’re going to stay upright.”

  He’s tall enough he can reach the porch’s roof and gives the structure a solid shake. “Seems sturdy enough.”

  “Your Boy Scout skills have come in handy,” I whisper. Without realizing it, I’m clinging to his arm as we slowly step inside.

  “Hello?” Shaw calls in his deep voice.

  “Can you drop that an octave and make it a bit more menacing?”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re alone,” he answers.

  That’s when I have another realization. I am alone in the woods with @PacManWizard. Sure, there’s a monsoon outside and I might die here, but at least I finally get to put a face to the goofy username...and what a nice face it is.

  “I like your face,” I blurt.

  “Huh?” Shaw’s light beams across his brow, perfectly manly nose, and full lips.

  My shoulder rises and falls. “As we’ve talked about, there was no knowing what you looked like. I expected the worst.”

  “Until today, I didn’t ever expect to meet you.”

  “Ouch. So you were just stringing me along, flirting, and intending to keep me in the screen zone?”