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

by Ellie Hall

  “Not exactly, but, uh, I like your face too.”

  The way he looks me over in the low light as if it’s not only my face he appreciates makes my cheeks blossom pink.

  “Why thank you, @PacManWizard.”

  I feel a mixture of excitement and worry. Excitement because I know the Fab Five would confirm Shaw could be my Forever Marriage Match. Worry because of the distance between us when we’re back behind our desks (or more likely out of work), on opposite sides of the country, especially now that we’ve had actual face time.

  12

  Shaw

  I plant my hand on Cora’s low back to reassure her and make sure she doesn’t wander off. The place is small, but rot eats its way across the floorboards and there’s no telling if more spiders lurk in the corners and crevices.

  It’s obvious this place was abandoned, and there was no way someone could’ve slept through or ignored the door slamming repeatedly in the wind, but announcing our presence seems like a smart thing to do.

  I call again just to be sure. Then I check my phone. Still no signal. The beams of the flashlight and phone sweep over the cobweb-covered walls.

  “No electricity,” I say.

  “No surprise.” Cora bundles her arms around her chest.

  “Ah, but there is a gas lantern.” I carefully light it and the wick inside the glass blazes to life, illuminating the space.

  It’s simple with wooden walls, a homemade wooden chair, a rolled-up rug, and a modest kitchen area with a washing bowl.

  “Hmm. Doesn’t look like you’ll be making pancakes for breakfast,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  Cora’s eyebrows reach new heights.

  “What can I say? I was hopeful.”

  She laughs nervously, lingering by the door and holding it from slamming repeatedly while I move fully into the room. I survey the rest of the place. In the very back, a single door remains closed.

  “There’s an outhouse that’s actually in the house, but that’s all,” I call.

  She wrinkles her nose.

  “This will have to do until morning.” Using the rope, I lash the door shut.

  “Um, can you do something for me?” she asks in a small voice.

  “Let me guess? You’d like me to check for spiders.” My lips quirk with amusement.

  “You know, just in case Webster had any friends and in the last moments before his death he cried out, commanding the others to avenge his memory.”

  I force myself not to laugh. “Webster?”

  She gives a quick nod. “King of the spiders.”

  “I didn’t know spiders had monarchies.”

  “Well, more like the chief. The ruler. Whatever. Will you please check?” Her brows crawl close together.

  The problem is I know there are spiders in here, but our odds of staying safe tonight are slightly higher in here than out in the open.

  I dutifully smoosh a few of the eight-legged creatures, issuing silent apologies in case Cora is right and Webster has a legion of spider soldiers ready to exact revenge.

  After making a show of covering every square inch of the room, I call, “All clear.”

  She lets out a breath like that was all the peace of mind she needed.

  “@CookClickChick, I never thought I’d be squishing spiders for you.”

  “PacManWizard, you just scored more points than if you were gobbling up ghosts on the video game.”

  Even though we’ve been hiking in the jungle all day and then got drenched in a storm, the woman is more gorgeous than I could’ve imagined with the way her eyelashes slowly open and close and her plump lips tilt in a semi-smile.

  The little surge I feel when I get the HUB ping zips through me. But this time I don’t have to wait for her chat bubble to pop up on the screen. We’re here, together, in real life. As real as it gets, but I don’t want to think about surviving at the moment.

  “You did make sure to apologize to them, right?” Cora asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  I wag my head from side to side and laugh. “To the spiders?”

  She doesn’t even crack a grin. “I make Mila, my roommate, offer a little prayer when I have her squish them.”

  I tilt my head up and down in semi-understanding. Very little makes me squeamish. She’s as sweet and funny and quirky in real life as she is online. We assess where we should set up for the night.

  “This rug is damp.” She frowns.

  I let out a long breath. “Everything is.”

  “Except the tarp,” Cora says smartly.

  We spread it out and sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. From my bag, I pull out a protein bar for each of us and we share the water.

  “Mmm. I have double chocolate mint brownie.” She carefully opens the wrapper and takes a bite then wrinkles her nose. “It’s kind of chalky. Not at all fudgy and dense.”

  “It’s not an actual brownie.”

  “I now know what the first thing I’m going to bake when I get home is.”

  I read the wrapper. “Double chocolate mint brownies?”

  She clicks her tongue. “You got it.”

  “Can I have one?”

  “You have your own.” She points at my unopened protein bar.

  “I meant one of the brownies you’re going to bake.”

  “That’s assuming we make it out of here.”

  “We’re going to make it out of here.”

  “How do you know that?” Cora’s voice is shaky.

  “I have the kill codes,” I say, referring to files of data that essentially make or break the company. They act as a failsafe, ensuring that if anyone were to hack into DigiPower’s databases, the information would condense, zip, and instantly upload to a more remote and secure server. That would also make DigiPower go offline, but their data would be safe until the breach was corrected. However, only I have the ability to retrieve the data afterword, meaning I am a very valuable asset.

  Cora slants her head. “You mean for DigiPower?”

  “Codes, plural. DigiPower and all their subsidiaries, including AmTech.”

  “But couldn’t Rick and Simon just look in your files and find them?”

  I tap my head.

  “You keep the codes in your mind?”

  “Safest place.”

  “But what if something happens to you?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You like extreme sports. What if you’d plunged to your death when you went skydiving or what if we—?”

  I give a firm shake of my head. “Rick and Simon won’t let it happen. They’re just making me a little uncomfortable. Testing me. Attempting to remind me of my place.”

  “And that is?”

  A grin slices through my anger at those jerkboxes. “Right here with you, Cookie.” I edge closer and read the label on my protein bar. “Mine is chunky chocolate chip cookie flavored.”

  “In that case, a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies will be the second thing I bake when I get home.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The corner of her lip lifts in a cute grin. “See, being a cookies and milk kind of person isn’t so bad after all.”

  A chuckle comes out of me after a long rumble of thunder. “No, I’d say it’s perfect.”

  I get another one of those slanted looks from Cora, eyes narrowed this time.

  “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. And how I acted,” I confess.

  “More points. Three gold stars.”

  “Not five?” I ask with mock surprise.

  “Not yet.” The smile continues to tease the corners of her lips, sending a kind of electrical current through me that could not be unplugged or shut down.

  Even though we’re not exchanging messages on the HUB, this feels like exactly something we’d talk about, only this time it’s better because it’s not virtual or fantasy.

  Outside, the rain slows to a light patter. The thick air in the musty and damp cabin makes me want to be out the
re instead, but truly, I’m happy wherever Cora is.

  “It’s too bad the sky isn’t clear. I bet the stars out here are beautiful.” A random memory pops into my head as I imagine the night sky. “I used to go to the library to use their computer—it was one of those big clunkers.” I gesture with my hands, approximating the size of the power tower.

  “Oh, I remember the kind. My father still has one. Complains that it runs super slow but won’t get a new one because, and I quote, ‘It works perfectly fine.’ I’m like seriously, Dad? I could get him the Ferrari of computers. He has no idea. But nope. Won’t let me help him upgrade. He says he knows where everything is and how to get online. That’s enough for him. Although, he did let me load the flying toasters screensaver.”

  I chuckle. “I was a fan of the starfield. When the screensaver came on, I’d stare into the stars as if hurtling through space. In a way, it was an escape and propelled my imagination. I’d wanted so badly to escape my childhood...and have been rushing toward the next thing like I’m still trying to outrun the past ever since. For the first time in memory, I’m quite content exactly where I am.”

  “In this cabin?” she asks.

  I nudge Cora’s shoulder. The words to tell her that I mean I’m content where I am with her operate on a dial-up modem and don’t quite make it out of my mouth.

  She shivers and I slide a little closer. She wiggles, so she’s pressed up against my side.

  “Chilly?”

  “More like I have the creeps,” she says. “When I was a kid, I went through a phase when I was determined to save the rainforests. I loved looking at photos of the lush greenery, sparkling sunlight, colorful birds, and beautiful flowers.” She looks at me with wide eyes. “It never occurred to me that rainforests have nighttime. You know, like the rest of the world.”

  I like that she’s able to joke even in dire situations. It’s not my strong suit, but we both have our strengths. “You’re with me. I’ll protect you.”

  “Thank you. But when this is over will you also take my job?”

  I tuck my head back, not expecting her to say that. “That depends. Do you still want to work in computers or would you rather pursue your baking career as you’ve mentioned in our chats?”

  “Brownies don’t offer health insurance.”

  “No, but you could include some salads. They say prevention is the best form of medicine.”

  “I’d argue that it’s laughter, but you do you, buckaroo.”

  I hesitate for the briefest of moments before slinging my around Cora’s shoulder, nudging her closer still.

  “Are you going to strangle me and take my job?” she asks.

  “I’m not going to take your job.”

  “Well, you never answered my question.”

  “True, but for one, I don’t want your job. For two, I wouldn’t do that. DigiPower isn’t one of those companies that—” I cut myself off because that’s exactly what DigiPower has become under Rick’s leadership. A cutthroat, crush-whoever-necessary to get to the top rope ladder of deception.

  She says, “Let me rephrase. Are Rick and Simon really going to take away my job?”

  I shake my head, gripping her arm more snuggly. “I’ll make sure the Websters, Ricks, and Simons of the world know you’re with me and that they’d better stay back.” My voice is slightly rough.

  “But don’t you work for them now?”

  “Yes, but that was by choice. I didn’t want the leadership position...or stress. I like having a full head of hair.” She eyes it then slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, pats my head.

  I drop my eyes to hers. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

  I try and fail not to smile as she runs her hand through it.

  “You have really nice hair. They do say stress can cause hair loss. I understand the concern and why you’d want to preserve it.”

  We both laugh.

  “What are the chances of us meeting this way?” she asks.

  “I have a computer program that could calculate that,” I answer.

  She playfully knocks my thickly muscled arm with her fist and then rubs it.

  “Wow. Rock-solid.”

  “Are you going to evaluate my entire body?”

  She waggles her eyebrows. “Maybe.”

  “This was why I thought it was better for us to keep things online. I suddenly feel very objectified,” I joke.

  “I did not doubt that Indiana Grump was strong, but to find out @PacManWizard, a certifiable nerd, is jacked adds to the allure.”

  “Oh, really? You have a thing for built guys?”

  “I do now.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I bump her shoulder with mine. What I really want to say is that she’s gorgeous, beautiful, and perfect but the last time I spoke those words to a woman, I ended up regretting it. Better to keep them locked up where they’re safe along with the DigiPower kill codes.

  “I have to admit, it’s nice to put a face and name with your personality, Shaw Dawson.”

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Cora Albright.”

  “I know, Cookie.”

  “I’m still so sorry about earlier,” she says. “I was being dramatic. A bit of a diva.”

  “No apology necessary. But me too. And I don’t blame you. This isn’t exactly a corporate incentive trip.”

  “It’s kind of de-incentivizing, now that you mention it.”

  I raise and lower my eyebrows. “I do have those kill codes. You know they work in reverse.”

  She dips her head in question. “I didn’t know that. Does that mean you could expose all of DigiPower’s data?”

  “I can save or destroy the company. Either Rick is too stupid or too high on a power trip to realize that.”

  “Let’s hope he is at the resort spa, had a great massage, and fell asleep before he realized you didn’t turn up and that he didn’t intentionally leave us out here. An honest mistake.”

  I grunt. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

  For the record, I won’t ruin DigiPower, but since being dumped out here, I won’t lie and say it hasn’t crossed my mind. If it weren’t for Cora, this would be an absolute disaster with no chance of either of those guys walking away unscathed. Us coming together, even in these circumstances, is their saving grace. I don’t know if we would’ve met in person otherwise. Chances are, Simon would’ve let her go in the merger and she’d move to another company, possibly one that doesn’t use the HUB. The connection would’ve been lost, erased, deleted.

  Every day, I count my blessings. Cora is now one of them.

  Even though I won’t ruin a company that people rely on for their jobs, health insurance, and livelihoods, I’m not above taking the two of the self-titled ‘Lords of Tech’ down a peg or ten. Yes, Rick and Simon call themselves that.

  Cora takes the last bite of her protein bar. “I’d like to say that was delicious, but thanks for planning ahead. Next time I go to the jungle I’ll bring more than a fanny pack.” She bounces as though startled. “Oh, but I do have mints.” She opens a little tin and we each take one.

  “Refreshing.”

  “My toothbrush is back at the resort with the rest of my luggage.” She leans her head against the crook of my chest and arm. “Do you really think we’ll find our way back?”

  “I’m sure of it. Remember, I want those cookies.”

  “Good to know your motivations are so basic. Though, chocolate has encouraged me to do a lot of things in life...on the other hand, cheese is what I call the great source of procrastination.”

  I chuckle. “Let’s not talk about cheese. It’ll make me hungry.”

  “But it’s so gouda.” Her tone is one of reverie as if dreaming that the Amazon is a river of melty cheese.

  “Har, har, har.” I mock laugh. “You’re so cheesy.”

  She pokes me in the side, exactly in my ticklish spot.

  I wriggle. “Stop. Stop. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say you’re so
cheesy on the eyes.”

  “Easy on the eyes? Wow. It doesn’t get much cheddar than that. What a brie-lliant compliment.”

  She doesn’t stop tickling me so I return the favor, my fingers wriggling across her skin as if this is a tickle competition. “Anything you can do I can do feta.”

  “You’re a real muenster, you know that,” she says.

  “Better than being your arch neme-swiss.”

  “And I thought I was a curd nerd.” She goes still and her expression brightens. “Now I get the whole Little Miss Muffet rhyme. Curds and whey...She was eating cheese.”

  “And along came a spider...” I walk my first two fingers across Cora’s soft skin.

  She yelps and her eyes widen.

  I leap into action. “Where is it? I’ll squish it for you.”

  She points and laughs. “Gotcha.”

  “Do you mean gouda?”

  “Already used that one.”

  I wrap my arm around her and clobber her with tickles. Our laughter fills the cabin and drowns out the sound of the rain.

  “You’re lucky I’m so fondue of you.”

  “Good one. Well, it just so happens that I think you’re pretty grate.”

  Our eyes meet.

  “Grate like a cheese grater,” I say.

  “I know.” Her expression softens and the space between us shrinks.

  I hold a question in my gaze as it floats to her lips. She glances at the slight dimple in my chin as if fearing that if she looks at my mouth, she’ll be a goner.

  I’m past that. She’s got me. Cheesy puns and all.

  “You’re not at all what I expected and yet, you’re exactly you,” she says.

  “It’s like we know each other and yet are meeting for the first time all over again.”

  “It’s nice to formally meet you, @PacManWizard.” She holds her hand out in greeting.

  I grip it in return and pull her to her feet. The uneven floor sends her cascading into me. Her warm skin meets my hard body.

  “@CookClickChick, it’s nice to meet you as well and I assure you that the pleasure is mine.”

  I kiss her hand—the one that typed out countless messages, made me laugh, and brought happiness to what were often routine, boring days.