Page 5 of The Bad Boy's Good Girl

Chapter 2

Nola always appreciated being inside the office when the building was empty. The quiet soothed her and lately she needed it badly. Still unbearably sad about the loss of her Grammie, she hadn’t been able to climb out of her grief. In fact that ill-fated night she’d spent with Bronx had only served to make her feel worse. Not that she’d expected anything from him, not really. Well, maybe she had expected a phone call or a friendly smile instead of the ice cold way he’d frozen her out. Lesson learned.

But she didn’t want to think about that today. It was Thanksgiving, the first real holiday without Grammie and it had been their favorite. They would get up before the sun to start cooking, pulling out the turkey that had been brining for two days, rub it with butter and herbs to get the cooking started which was what she’d done this morning before leaving for office. That explained her less than professional attire today, and the fact that she wasn’t officially on the clock today. Knowing how much work waited for her at home, she bypassed her typical office wear in favor of jeans ripped at the thigh and knee and a soft, medium weight sweater as a nod to the chillier Central California weather. She smiled, looking down at her sexy suede ankle booties with the sharp stiletto heel. They were a splurge she could now afford and knew Grammie would have gotten a kick out of watching her walk in them.

No more sad thoughts, she told herself as she popped in her ear buds and cranked up her favorite country music playlist while she laid out dozens of bowls in every color and size, and filled them with chips and dips, pretzels, mini candy bars, and snack cakes. She knew these guys well and they loved junk food more than anything other than video games. The two tables lining the back wall were full to bursting with enough junk to put a dozen dentists’ kids through Ivy League degrees, but Nola went a step further and set up smaller bowls closer to the sofas, chairs, and televisions set up for the tournament. She smiled thinking about how rowdy things would get. Next was the conference room where Thanksgiving dinner would be served so she only set up napkins, silverware, and flatware. The caterers would handle the rest so she could leave soon.

Very soon.

She was so lost in her tasks, her music, and her thoughts she hadn’t noticed she wasn’t alone until a big hand landed on her shoulder. Instantly, she remembered her self-defense training and sent her elbow flying backwards into the intruder’s stomach, turning to send her palm flying up at his nose…and froze. “Bronx? What the hell?”

Her angry stare was met with a dark scowl. And a grunt. “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t sneak up on me,” she responded without a hint of remorse.

“Fine. Impressive instincts,” he grinned and rubbed what she already knew was a rock hard midsection with six hard, delicious ridges. “Why are you here?”

Her jaw clenched. It was so like Bronx to question her when he should be thanking her. “Setting up for your tournament. What else?”

He shook his head. “Gabriela is handling it, Nola. You’re not the only one capable of getting things done.”

She reared back as though he’d slapped her. “Really? Then where the hell is she because by my calendar the guys will be here in less than an hour.” Gabriela spent more time trying to grab the attention of every man in the office than she did doing any actual work. One look at his scowl and the fight left her. “You’re right. She can handle the rest since she wants all the credit anyway.” Not that Nola cared about credit but it was truly insulting to ask her to do all the work so his assistant could feel good about herself. “Later,” she tossed the last batch of holiday napkins on the table and marched out of the conference room, out of the elevator and onto the street below.

Since she now had an hour to kill before she had to go home to peel and chop potatoes, whip up Grammie’s famous Alabama dressing and her own baked garlic mac & cheese, Nola decided to take a walk around town. She’d lived in Serendipity, a small town on Monterey Bay, for a few years and she’d never made an effort to make it home. Between school, her insane work schedule and making time for Grammie, there just hadn’t been time. Now she had nothing but time.

And so far I’ve squandered it.She knew Bronx hadn’t realized he was her first and only lover and despite how wild, how sensual and eye opening it had been, she regretted it. She’d given something precious to a man who didn’t deserve it. Didn’t appreciate it. But she wouldn’t beat herself up about it, she would simply choose better next time.

Serendipity was a beautiful little coastal town with plenty of small boutiques and shops. She stopped and went inside a little soul food restaurant and picked up two pecan pies because she never could make them as good as her grandma, and finally made her way home to the three bedroom she was in the process of buying. The house was cozy and she loved the stone details that made the house look like a home.

Kicking off her shoes, Nola cranked up Jana Kramer, slid on an apron and got to work on her first Thanksgiving, alone. Though she was sad, she felt soothed by going through the motions of creating each dish and making use of the double ovens that had attracted Grammie’s eye from the first. She had just stuck the macaroni and cheese in the oven when the doorbell rang. Brooks. The man couldn’t leave well enough alone, checking on her to make sure she wasn’t sad and sulking all day. “I told you I’d be fine, Brooks.” It wasn’t Brooks. “What do you want?”

Bronx stood on her doorstep, hands shoved into jeans that fit him so perfectly she could almost see everything underneath in her mind’s eye. The sweater he wore earlier was gone and the white t-shirt sculpted his muscled body and showed off the sleeve of tattoos she found far too fascinating. “Can I come in?”

“No.” She didn’t want him in her house. It was hers, and she couldn’t escape their night together when she closed her eyes each night so she would not allow him to invade her space. Nola stared and Bronx stared back. “Shouldn’t you be at the tournament?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” he said instead of answering.

Instantly her heart sped up. “What’s wrong? Is Brooks okay?”

“Brooks is fine,” he answered, sounding annoyed so Nola stood, arms crossed and waited for him to speak. “The food hasn’t shown up and it’s past five.”

It wasn’t possible that the caterers had forgotten, they wouldn’t with such a big order for one of the biggest companies in town. “Wait here,” she told him as she went to grab her phone. Looking up, she groaned. “I didn’t invite you in.”

“Yet, here I am.” The man was as arrogant as he was handsome.

“Whatever. You can leave now because they called their point person, Gabriela, ten times and she still hasn’t picked up. The driver is waiting inside the delivery van right outside the building.” She turned and went to check on her turkey, injecting more cooking liquid into several points and smiling at the crisp brown skin.

“You’re not coming?”

She gasped and turned to find him standing on the other side of the island counter. “Stop doing that and no, I’m not coming. You wanted Gabriela to take the credit, so she can answer one damn phone call.” Rounding the corner, she pushed at his big body, moving them both towards the door. “Goodbye.”

He turned to her and she had to lock her knees before she fell at his feet, feeding his overgrown ego. Intense blue eyes sucked her in and that messy brown hair looking like he’d just rolled from a night of making love, made her want to grab it. “Thank you, Nola.”

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want his damn thanks when he lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue slicked across her bottom lip drawing a gasp that let him slip inside her mouth. He kissed like he meant it and Nola was powerless to do anything but cling to him, fall into him as his mouth made promises she knew he wasn’t willing to keep. Thank you, bucket of ice water, she thought as she broke the kiss much too soon and pushed him back. “Happy Thanksgiving, Bronx.” She pulled the door open and waited, watching his tight butt in those fitted jeans as he jogged down the steps and slid inside his cherry red Tesla.

Damn you, Bronx.

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