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

by Ellie Hall

  “I like your nails.” They’re sculpted and painted neon pink. Mine are ragged with dirt underneath.

  She admires them. “We have a full-service salon and spa.”

  I sigh, already knowing not even that will stir my slowly shattering heart.

  She offers a sympathetic smile as if I don’t know how to groom myself and wasn’t just stranded in the biggest rainforest on earth.

  I glance at Shaw. His back faces me and he speaks intimately with the redhead.

  I think of Mila and how fast she’d take him down. Forget Gorgon-zilla, he should be terrified of Mila-zilla and the Fabulous Five.

  I turn back to the woman at the desk. “So they weren’t sending out a search party?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve been here all weekend. I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything about missing members of your group.”

  A hollow feeling that has little to do with how hungry I am empties me out. I recognize a few of my coworkers lounging in the lobby. I wonder if any of them faked their ailments to get out of the challenge or if the rainforest really bested them. Maybe they weren’t fit to survive in the business jungle. After all, it’s cutthroat out there. These nerds are used to sitting in cubicles where their toughest decision is to decide what to eat for lunch. Playing video games does little to teach them practical skills.

  And what skills do I have? I can’t think about it right now. I pocket the key and thank the woman before disappearing to my room, not bothering to look back at Shaw.

  The space is a posh cocoon with a cushy mattress inside a dark, polished wooden frame. All I want to do is sleep. First, I shower, washing away the grime. But I can’t rinse away the ache in my chest or the tears. I plonk onto the bed. Instead of drifting into a peaceful sleep, my mind churns.

  I think about my first impressions of Shaw, discovering he was @PacManWizard, and our conversations. Over the months we’d been messaging, I’d slowly fallen for him. He was a geek on the inside and turned out to be a dreamy, handsome alpha hero on the outside.

  Then there were the life-changing kisses.

  If they meant so much, why had I hurried off and retreated to my room without at least taking a stand when he reunited with the redhead?

  Mila would’ve for sure and the others definitely would’ve had something to say about it. But they’re on another continent...a phone call away except I don’t have my phone.

  I’m disconnected, adrift, lost.

  Seeing him with the redhead confirmed my fears. Like my passion for cooking and fear that if I attached myself to it, went all in, I’ll fail just like I did with my FMM.

  Simon said that business is a jungle, but love is too. Despite my real-life reservations, I’d first fallen for the virtual @PacManWizard and then crash-landed in love with the real-life Shaw.

  Too bad he already has my heart and now is going to take my job. I’ll have to fight all over again to get a secure position that pays me fairly. Double too bad he has a girlfriend and deceived me.

  I take a deep breath against the painful reality and then drift to sleep.

  The next day, I wake to light rapping on the door. Sunlight beams through the slatted wooden shutters in the room. Slightly disoriented, I sit up abruptly as the knock comes again.

  “Hey, if you’re there, it’s me.”

  Shaw’s voice sends tingles through me. Sure, we bonded, but then he betrayed me. It was like my ex all over again—not that it matters because I’m married to my career...or I was.

  “It turns out everyone has been living in luxury here at the resort. I figured we might take advantage of it and enjoy a dip in the hot tub.”

  I don’t answer. Can’t answer.

  He tries a few more times.

  I’m all out of words.

  “Well, you know where to find me.” His footsteps disappear down the hall.

  I can’t bear seeing him again. For one, we’re up for the same job. I’ll be the one fired. Then again, the more I think about it, I don’t want to work for AmTech and Simon, putting in ridiculously long hours only to be forgotten in the jungle.

  I get to my feet, determined to give my two weeks’ notice before he can fire me. It’s true that I can’t control-alt-delete this week, but I can quit my job, and I’ll be deleted from the HUB, making @PacManWizard a mere memory.

  16

  Shaw

  Good thing mahogany is durable wood, otherwise I’d have worn through it. I’ve paced the pathway that leads to the recreation area at the resort for what feels like hours.

  Of course, Cora was probably exhausted after our trials in the jungle, but she’d left the lobby so suddenly. Her abrupt departure and then not answering her door rubs against a tender part inside me that I’ve spent countless hours training myself to ignore—hiking, skydiving, white water rafting, and other excursions. All of it helped create a callous against what would otherwise be a sore and broken heart.

  I consider telling Rick that he can take DigiPower and get lost, preferably in the Amazon Rainforest. In fact, I know of a cabin he can live in because I’m not a total jerk. Nah, I’ll just leave him with a tarp and some rope. He can figure the rest out.

  I could also give my notice as an employee or utter two simple words, I quit, and not look back.

  What would Rick do? He holds no leverage in my life. But before I make any big decisions, I need to shower, sleep, and then I’ll be able to think clearly.

  I try one more time on Cora’s door, but she doesn’t answer. Pulling out my phone, I send her an email, asking her to meet me for a pickle split—it’s definitely not on the resort menu, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the two people who survived imminent peril in the rainforest.

  Then I remember she doesn’t have a phone. My unease ratchets up a few more notches. Did she use me to get out of the jungle and then ditch me?

  A fitful sleep brings dreams of digital cheese monsters and an endless river of work with me floating along on an office cubicle atop a raft, alone forever.

  During my late teens, when I’d finally cut myself loose from my home life, I poured myself into work, using it as an escape, as a coping mechanism. Then I put as much space between the past and present by seeking success, shiny objects, and prestige. But that road doesn’t lead to the destination I desire. Funny how I found my heart’s longing on a muddy track in the rainforest.

  I want connection, companionship, cookies...Cora.

  Dread slithers in my stomach at the idea of losing her. It tears me apart.

  I shouldn’t have left her side.

  I should have told her how I felt.

  Worry piles on top of the dread when I go to Cora’s room and she doesn’t answer. Hopeful expectation hastens me to the breakfast buffet for the DigiPower and AmTech employees. I envision her wearing a sundress, holding court at the head of the table, and telling the tale of our adventure in the wilderness.

  The dining room is devoid of laughter.

  Murmurings of Rick and Simon fearing litigation if they proceeded with the survival camp reach my ears, so they shut it down. Instead, inviting everyone to enjoy the resort amenities—leaving two of us behind in the process.

  After I pick at a stack of pancakes that have nothing on the blueberry lemon recipe Cora described, I try her door again.

  She doesn’t answer.

  Doubt joins the dread and worry.

  Maybe she left because that’s what women always do. I’ve always been too dorky, not cool enough. Despite my stature and athleticism, I’ve always felt like a nerd. The nerdiest of nerds. From behind the safety of the screen, I could be himself without fear of judgment. No risks. No danger.

  I’m a Jenga tower, one false move and I might topple. My heart aches. My body aches.

  I take a dip in the hot tub, hoping Cora will appear. Not even a dinner by a world-class chef draws her from her room. I thought we’d managed to emerge from the excursion in the rainforest unscathed, but the cratering in my chest tells a differen
t story.

  Then real panic causes my throat to tighten.

  What if she was sick or injured and didn’t tell me? Worst-case scenarios batter me from every side. But we already survived what could arguably be the worst-case scenario...

  I want a chance to talk to her, to see if we could have a future together, but maybe that wasn’t what she wanted when she got to know the real me. I repeatedly check my phone, hoping for a message or an email. Nothing.

  Her old device is swimming with the piranhas, but maybe she got a new one—she’d said it was her lifeline.

  I plod down the hallway. Her door is open. Hope rushes in. I peek inside. No luggage. No personal items. Housekeeping cleans the otherwise empty room.

  Priscilla stands behind the front desk and blinks a few times as if I look familiar.

  “I showered and shaved,” I mutter. “Did Cora Albright change rooms or—?”

  “Oh, you’re the guy from the couple who was lost in the rainforest,” Priscilla says as if that kind of thing happens all the time.

  I goggle, but only for a moment because I’m looking for Cora. “About this tall, caramel-colored hair, sparkling green eyes, laughs like a sailor, heart of a warrior...”

  “Sounds like you’re writing poetry, sir.”

  I exhale irritably. “Where is she?”

  “She left for the airport a couple of hours ago.”

  My chest craters. That’s it. She deleted herself from my life.

  I want to disappear from reality. Get lost in the Amazon and never find my way out. Darkness creeps over me. Thunder cracks and lightning flashes within me. It’s like I’m in a storm all over again.

  Laughter filters from the pool area.

  What’s funny? Nothing.

  What’s there to be happy about?

  Not. A. Thing.

  Rick and Simon lounge poolside with large glasses filled with umbrellas and other frills. They’re on vacation without a care in the world. Never mind that we could’ve died in the jungle. Never mind that they were preparing to let go of half of the employees and make the ones who remained work double as hard for half as much pay. The scene and their laughter bring the inner storm to the surface.

  “Hey, Shaw. We heard you were on a real expedition out there.” Simon chortles.

  “With no thanks to you. Why didn’t you make sure everyone was accounted for?”

  Simon shrugs like it was a joke. “But look at you, tough guy, you’re fine.”

  I’m whatever fine is spelled backward, inside out.

  With a wry smile, Rick says, “We believe in personal responsibility. It wasn’t our problem that you weren’t there when the Jeeps departed.”

  That response is so like him—to pass off the role of leadership.

  “Did you fire Cora Albright?” I ask.

  Rick blinks slowly like he needs to reboot in order to think about anything work-related. “We don’t fire. Sometimes we have to let people go, but we’re on vacation. We can deal with all of that when we get back to the office on Monday.”

  The two words, I quit, nip at my tongue. Instead, I say, “Are you intending on downsizing, strategizing, or whatever pretty picture you want to paint to say that she’s no longer going to be employed by you?”

  Simon and Rick exchange expressions of curiosity, cunning.

  Simon says, “Cora has been an asset to AmTech, but I perceive that she’s become a liability. Didn’t even have the sense to stay with the group while in the rainforest. Wouldn’t want her to wander down digital corridors where she doesn’t belong, if you catch my meaning.”

  That weasel. He’s implying that they’re letting her go because she’s a security threat. I can’t imagine Cora doing anything of the sort. She may know her way around AmTech’s network weaknesses, but she wouldn’t exploit them.

  Rick snorts a laugh. “Why do you care?”

  I have to think fast. How do I play this right? Cora mentioned job security was important to her, so how can I keep her working long enough to find a new job? She may not want anything to do with dorky old me, but she’s a good person, deserves to be treated right, and not be left in the rainforest or in an unemployment line by these clowns.

  She made it clear she doesn’t want to fight for us. But I will fight for her at least so she doesn’t end up out of work.

  “She was my partner out there in the rainforest. Brilliant mind. I didn’t get the sense that she’d do anything duplicitous.” Not like these jerk holes. “However, one of our conversations suggested she might be able to help me with the Proxy Project,” I say pointedly to Rick.

  While Cora’s biggest concern is having a job so she can pay her bills, Rick’s pain point is losing face. The news media loves a good data breach story, especially if it contains sensitive or high-profile information. The Proxy Project is supposed to be the ultimate in cyber security—it’s been my pet project for years and might just be the leverage I need.

  His eyebrows lift. “Is that so? You sure it’s not because she’s one of the few cute females in the company?”

  Simon chuckles. “The rest are ogres. If it weren’t against company policy, I’d date her.”

  I’d like to run him over with the Jeep. Twice.

  “You do understand relations between employees are strictly prohibited,” Rick says.

  “I’m well aware,” I say, seeing as we consulted the HR specialists together back in the early days of the company.

  “Then what do you want her help with?” Rick drums his fingers as if impatient for me to get to the point.

  I take the deepest, Zen-est breath. I liked being able to protect Cora in the jungle. Can I protect her now or at least help offer her job security, what she desires? I’ll do my best.

  “Cora Albright has a deep understanding of—” I lay out a lot of jargon that sounds important but is mostly just nonsense because I’m tired—from the jungle and from this guy’s boloney.

  What happens when you reach the end of the road? You jump. I landed just fine yesterday. I’m hoping to do the same now.

  “Shh,” Rich hisses. “Keep it down. We don’t want anyone to hear you. This is classified.”

  I look around. “Right.” As if I’d actually say anything out loud that could compromise the project. “So, I was thinking, I’d like to hire Cora as my assistant. At least, temporarily, so I can finally complete the project. She’s got the right background, skills, and it’s a lot to manage myself. If I can dedicate myself to it, with her help, there’s a good chance we can complete the thing.”

  With greed in his eyes because all he sees are dollar signs, Rick turns to Simon. “What do you think?”

  “Sure. Whatever. You guys are harshing my me time though. Let’s not talk about work anymore.”

  Did Simon really just say that? Talk about a princess. I scrub my hand down my face. These guys have shown their true colors and I’m done. The sooner I extract myself from these idiots, the better.

  I wasn’t lying. I do think Cora could help me with the Proxy Project. The good thing is I’m already on the inside and I’m going to take all of my internet property with me when I say those two magic words to Rick and Simon. I quit.

  And I’ll make sure to go out with a bang.

  Rick reclines on the chair. “Grab a drink, Shaw. Relax for once.”

  But I’m already walking away and plotting my escape—from the actual jungle and the figurative one in business.

  The next day, as the airplane takes off and the Amazon resembles little more than a harmless stream slicing through a large swath of green, I realize had Rick and Simon not arranged the trip to Selva Survival Camp, I wouldn’t have met Cora in real life and instead just played it safe online.

  Over the weekend, I pack up my apartment and ship everything to Boston. Determination fuels each step I take. We found our way out of the Amazon Rainforest. I’ll find my way back to @CookClickChick no matter what it takes.

  But then reality bites down caiman-hard.
r />   She made it clear she doesn’t want me.

  Isn’t interested in this nerd.

  Story of my life.

  Nonetheless, as I countdown to Monday, I obsessively check the HUB. No messages from Cora. No emails either. I scour pages and pages of food blogs, hoping to find hers. I’d never had social media before and open up an account on each of the high-traffic sites. She told me she had a popular page but never said on which platform. I tell myself I need to learn how to cook as I search hashtags, looking for photos of the recipes she’d mentioned making. Who knew there were so many kinds of pancakes?

  As I wait for my flight to Boston—a place I vowed never to return—I reformulate my plan. For a minute there, I’d been hoping I could win Cora back. Instead, I’ll help her find a new job and give her a glowing recommendation as her new boss. I’ll have her help me get revenge on Rick and Simon.

  In the meantime, I’ll give her space and distance—as much as can be had in an office—and then we’ll say goodbye properly.

  On Monday, I arrive at the AmTech headquarters, soon to be renamed PowerTech. It’s in a glass-paneled building on Mass Ave. The office has the kind of sterile, gray and white-toned sleek, modern décor I expect. But I see pops of character—a bubblegum machine, family photos on desks, and a common area with a ping pong table.

  Like at DigiPower, the employees give me tight fear-filled smiles and keep plenty of distance. I’m pretty sure a reedy guy in the elevator shook while he pressed the button for his floor. I don’t necessarily want to be known as the scary, grouchy boss. But an idea takes shape, inspired by my reputation and Cora calling me Indiana Grump.

  The concierge (in other spheres known as the office secretary) guides me to a corner office. My name is already on the door. A dry laugh escapes. Simon must be pleased to think he got me in the merger. Not for long, sucker.

  I settle in and flip on my laptop, feeling a rush of excitement at the aggravation I’m going to unleash on Rick and Simon.

  The phone on the desk beeps. “Sir, your new assistant is here,” the concierge says brightly.