The grumpy boss agreemen.., p.1
The Grumpy Boss Agreement, page 1
THE GRUMPY BOSS AGREEMENT
VIVIAN WOOD
Edited by
THERESA LEIGH
Cover Design By
VIVIAN WOOD
CONTENTS
Want see Cape Simon?
1. Cole
2. Savannah
3. Cole
4. Savannah
5. Cole
6. Savannah
7. Cole
8. Savannah
9. Cole
10. Savannah
11. Savannah
12. Cole
13. Savannah
14. Cole
15. Savannah
16. Cole
17. Savannah
18. Cole
19. Savannah
20. Cole
21. Savannah
22. Cole
23. Savannah
24. Savannah
25. Cole
26. Cole
27. Savannah
28. Cole
29. Savannah
30. Cole
31. Savannah
32. Cole
33. Savannah
34. Cole
35. Savannah
36. Cole
37. Savannah
38. Savannah
39. Cole
40. Savannah
41. Cole
42. River
About Vivian Wood
For the ladies that made my book better: Theresa, Patricia, and Angela. Thanks for treating my book with the love and care that it deserves.
THE SOUNDTRACK OF THE GRUMPY BOSS AGREEMENT
Taylor Swift — Cruel Summer
Boygenius — Emily I’m Sorry
Cigarettes After Sex — Motion Picture Soundtrack
TV On The Radio — Wolf Like Me
Sufjan Stevens — Will Anybody Ever Love Me?
Mike Posner feat Seeb — I Took A Pill In Ibiza (Remix)
Camilla Cabello — Don’t Go Yet
Ariana, Miley, and Lana — Don’t Call Me Angel
Disclosure feat Sam Smith — Omen
Father John Misty — Real Love Baby
Cardi B feat Bad Bunny — I Like It
Megan Thee Stallion feat Dua Lipa — Sweetest Pie
Glass Animals — Heat Waves
Mazzy Star — Fade Into You
Taylor Swift — Vigilante Shit
Arctic Monkeys — Baby I’m Yours
Japanese Breakfast — Boyish
Check out the playlist on Spotify!
WANT SEE CAPE SIMON?
CAPE SIMON COMMUNITY
Sarah’s horse stables
La Ville Coralle (Bennett-Taylor residence)
The Cape Winery
Cape Simon Lighthouse
Grandad’s House
Lacey’s Boutique
Movie Theater
Peterson’s Grocery
South Shore Community Center
Cole’s Beach House
Head to vivianwoodwrites.com/cape-simon-map to see a larger version.
1
COLE
How could my ex do this to me?
And where the hell do I go now?
I’m sitting on a stool at the bar in Gem’s Diner, staring vacantly into the middle distance. Outside the window, clouds gather over the Cape Simon beach. The sky is bleached of color, and I can hear the distant rumble of thunder. A storm is coming. It’s normal for the hot Georgia afternoon to turn into sideways rain for a few hours.
I’m sitting all the way at the end of the counter on a sparkly pink stool that has been in place since the Reagan administration. My dark wool suit jacket is thrown over the seat beside me, looking to all the world like a crumpled, discarded napkin.
As I absentmindedly trace the rim of my coffee cup, my thoughts are on my wedding. Or rather, on the event this morning that would have been my wedding if my fiancée, Holly, hadn’t up and disappeared. She’d left me standing at the altar, with three hundred of our closest friends and family looking to me for answers.
She’d also left our son Charlie without a word of goodbye. What kind of mom does that?
A narcissist who was only with me for the money, that’s who. That’s the only answer I can come up with.
But there are no answers to be had today. I shove my hand through my dark hair and shift my coffee mug around.
“Hey there.”
I look up, blinking, at the voice. It belongs to a pretty girl wearing a yellow and white waitress uniform. She’s got a wild mass of curly, dark hair, and dark amber skin, and she clutches a tiny notepad. She scribbles something on the notepad and then smiles at me.
“Have you decided yet?”
I glance outside, trying to catch my brother Rhett’s attention. I rap my knuckles against the window, and he turns, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He’s wearing the same uniform that I wear. Black tux, bow tie stuffed in the pocket, top button of the shirt undone at the collar.
Rhett shakes his head and waves me off. Then he shouts into his phone, looking aggrieved. I shrug a shoulder and look back at the waitress.
“Is there anything that’s fresh here? It’s been a decade since I’ve been back to Cape Simon and I don’t intend to start eating a bunch of frozen, deep-fried junk now.”
The waitress flashes me a funny look.
“Everything is made fresh. We take a lot of pride in that.” Her eyebrows rise and she gives me a curious look. “You’re from the Cape?”
“Yep. I only came back to get married.”
“Oh! Well, congrats!”
“Don’t get too excited. The actual ceremony never took place,” I tell her with a heavy dose of sardonic humor, as if I didn’t just get stood up in front of hundreds of friends, family, and strangers. “The bride took off faster than a rabbit down a rain shaft.” To punctuate my point, I let out a low whistle and quickly bounce two of my fingers along the table, miming a rabbit running away. “I’m pretty sure that this whole damn town is cursed.”
Now the waitress just appears confused. “That happened today?”
I nod and sip my room-temperature coffee. “Do you see any other guys in tuxes sitting here?”
She gives me a pointed look. “No.”
Outside, I spot a shiny red convertible pull up along the length of the building. A figure jumps out and stalks to the diner’s front door, yanking it open. My stomach drops when I see who it is.
My brother Rex enters the restaurant with a steely expression. “There you are!” he calls as he strides over to me.
I spread my hands. “I don’t need my two big brothers to babysit me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
“Do me a favor? Stop whining. It’s unbecoming.” Rex gives the waitress a nod. “Hey, Pearl. I’m going to join my brother here for a bite.”
The waitress’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks are smudged with red. “Hi, Rex. Sure thing. Let me get you a menu. Or maybe a cup of coffee?”
“I’ll have both. Thanks, sugar.” Rex touches her arm.
She shudders with something like ecstasy and then hurries off. Rex tosses his dark hair, which is cut short on the sides and back of his head, but grown foppishly long in the front. He has ditched his tux shirt and jacket for his usual tight-fitting black track jacket and black joggers. His clothes casually emphasize the muscles in his arms, his trim physique, and his powerful build.
The most standout feature on Rex’s body has to be his tattoos, though. Every single inch of bare skin on his arms and his neck is covered in colorful, scrawled artwork. Some are religious tattoos, some are funny, and some are thoughtful. There are at least two sets of song lyrics that I can see inked into his skin.
To me, most of his tattoos look like something an artistic school kid would doodle.
“Everybody is looking all over God’s green earth for you,” Rex says. “I thought you might head over here. I guess Rhett figured it out, too.”
Rex looks out the window at Rhett, who is on the phone trying to cancel the rest of the wedding vendors that haven’t set up already. Rhett catches his eye and nods, but turns back in the next instant.
“He getting you any money back?” Rex drawls.
“Nope. I’m on the hook for six figures.” I fidget with the knife and fork already laid out on the table.
“That’s absolute bullshit,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about all of this, Cole. It’s not what anybody wanted for you. Or for Charlie. God knows he’s devastated.”
I wince when Rex says my kid’s name. I make a noncommittal noise and pray that he’ll move on. Accepting apologies and being the object of someone else’s pity has never been my thing.
Rex leans over and snags my untouched water glass, pulling it across the bar before drinking it down into a couple of gulps. I shoot him a glare.
“That’s my water,” I snap.
“She’ll bring you another one.” He shrugs.
I give him a considering look. “You couldn’t have known that I would head here. I didn’t even remember it existed until I walked in the door.”
Rex rolls his eyes, scratching his stubbly chin. He cracks an easy grin. “It might have been the third place I tried.”
I usually have a lot more patience for Rex’s jokes. After all, aside from being my older brother, he is far and away my best client. But today, I have none of the goodwill or tolerance that handling Rex usually calls for.
I sigh. “What can I do for you, Rex?”
His answer is cut off by a woman and her young
The woman blushes, crowding Rex’s personal space. “Hi, Mr. Bennett. Would you sign my son’s jersey?”
In the moment it takes him to look over at his fans, Rex switches gears from his normal ornery self to Mr. Popularity.
“Of course. Let’s step over to the other side of the diner for just a minute. Give everybody else a little privacy.” Rex’s smile remains unbothered, and he winks at the boy. He stands up and moves the fans back with his sheer size alone. I see him accept a marker and jersey from the little boy as they walk away, asking, “What’s your name, kid?”
I slump lower on my uncomfortable stool. Pearl stands behind the autograph seekers, juggling a cup of coffee, another glass of water, and a menu. I motion her over to me, accepting the items one by one and placing them on the bar in front of me.
She looks at Rex and I see the same emotions I’ve seen on every girl’s face since before Rex went pro. A little awe, a lot of excitement, and no little bit of desire. I can’t fault her for being star-struck. Even Holly thinks Rex is ‘a perfect specimen.’
That thought irks me. I look down at my hands, trying not to clench them. Who cares what Holly thinks?
Holly dumped me this morning, in case I forgot.
“Can I bring you some food?” Pearl asks, tucking some hair behind her ear.
I want to pout, but I can’t do it here.
“Can you bring me some wheat toast and…?” I think of Rex’s fanatical diet and wrinkle my nose. “Two spinach salads and two plates of scrambled egg whites?”
“Sure thing. Would you like Rex’s regular order? That’s a five-egg white omelet with spinach and grilled deli turkey, a spinach salad with tomatoes and no dressing, and a cup of black coffee.” Pearl gives me a shy smile.
Ugh. That does sound like what Rex would usually order. I sigh.
“Whatever he usually gets is fine. Bring a second order of the same for me.”
She purses her lips. “How about some dessert to go with it? We have sweet potato pie, apple pie, and peach cobbler today. Made from scratch in-house by our chef, Diego.”
“I don’t really need a staff rundown.” I sit back with a sigh. “Just bring the grown-up food, if you please.”
“You’ve got it, hon.” Her tone of voice says that she feels sorry for me, but I’m not too interested in that. She picks up the stack of laminated menus and sticks them under her arm, then pats my hand. “I’ll be back with a warm-up on that coffee, shortly.”
I snatch my hand back and glare at her. She’s already turning away and misses my show of distaste. As she leaves, Rex makes his way back to his seat. He sits down with a sigh.
“You know, I always dreamed of being a famous baseball player. Now I am one, and I am totally sick of being recognized.”
“Uh huh.” I don’t mention that he would probably die without the attention of his adoring fans. “Just don’t go making any career-altering decisions without telling me. I am your agent, after all.”
“I don’t think you’re on the clock right now. The fact that you’re not three sheets to the wind right now is honestly pretty impressive.” Rex waves me off. “Besides, I love baseball. I love being a pitcher. And I love my team. I’m definitely not making any moves. If the team ever talks about trading me, you’ll be the first to know.”
He grabs the full glass of water that Pearl dropped off and guzzles it down in the blink of an eye. I nod, trying not to glare at him for taking the second water without asking. Even my four-year-old son would know better than that.
I come up with, “You are my biggest client… and the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever known.”
Rex grins at me, his dark blue eyes sparkling. “You’re damned right.”
Just then, the restaurant door swings open. A bunch of high school girls enter, their gazes fixed on Rex. They start moving toward us.
“Fans incoming,” I say, nodding toward the girls.
Rex turns, lets out a little groan, and starts to get up. “I’ll head outside and sign autographs while we wait on food. Then we’ll talk.”
I stifle a snort. “Yeah. Sure.”
Rex gives me a hard look, his eyes flashing. But in the next second, he’s gone.
I nod and let my gaze drift back out the window. Rhett is still on the phone, which is fine by me. He has a certain voice that he uses when he’s talking about sensitive topics, one I’m sure that they taught him in med school. His comforting-a-patient voice. I’m not sick and I’ve had just about all I can take of being a sensitive topic today.
I pull my wallet out of my pocket and take out the piece of ripped notebook paper that I’d tucked inside. Smoothing it out on the white Formica table before me, I blink at it.
The only message from the missing bride.
Cole, I’m sorry. I can’t marry you. I can’t be Charlie’s mother right now either. I’m going away for a while to find myself. Please take care of Charlie for me until I get back. Kisses, Holly
This piece of paper provides me with almost no answers. And yet, it tells me everything I need to know.
She doesn’t want to marry me.
She doesn’t want to be a mom to her four-year-old son.
Every time she said I love you, it was a lie.
What more did I really need to know?
I crumple the note and push it aside. Staring blankly out the window, I try to figure out just where I went wrong.
Was it pushing back on Holly’s insane demands for a luxury wedding with seven hundred guests? Or maybe putting my foot down when she wanted to start her own line of purses even though she had almost no business sense?
It could have been the time I got angry that she came waltzing in from Paris Fashion Week with over fifty thousand dollars’ worth of luggage from Louis Vuitton. Or the time that she went to her plastic surgeon for what I thought was a little Botox and came out with a completely different face and a new set of breast implants. On top of all that, I was expected to drop everything to help her while she recuperated as well.
If I really think about it, there are probably a dozen more incidents where Holly spent a lot of my fortune to make bad choices.
Pearl arrives at just the right moment with a coffee refill. She slides the steaming mug across the table and then lays down a slice of appetizing-looking peach cobbler. Before I can protest, she holds up a hand.
“The pie’s on the house. We give it to all heartbroken men in tuxes who were just left at the altar,” she jokes. “And I already served it to you, so there’s no taking it back. It’s yours now.”
“Thanks,” I say, somewhat surprised. Should I be hungry when I was just jilted at the altar? I honestly don’t know.
She looks at me, lifting a brow. “Want me to bring you a scoop of vanilla to make your pie à la mode? It’s on the house.”
She obviously feels bad for me. I look down at my left hand, which should be wearing a wedding ring just now. I am sort of pathetic today.
“Stop feeling sorry for me,” I demand. I grab my fork. “But ice cream does sound good.”
She vanishes with a wink and returns with the scoop of ice cream on a side plate.
“Thanks,” I grouse. “But again-.”
She holds up her hands. “You’ve made yourself clear. I’m not going to baby you. Do let me know if I can get you anything else, though.”
I think about asking her if she keeps any extra wives in the back, but I decide not to inflict my dark humor on her. Nobody needs that.
