Page 130 of Dear Grumpy Boss

Breaking myself of a ten-year habit I’d structured my role in my company around would take time. That wasn’t Elise’s problem, and I refused to lay my burden at her feet.

“As long as you don’t forget about me.”

“Never.” That I could easily promise.

Her sigh brushed my lips, then she tilted her face, so it was her lips brushing mine.

“I love you too, you know. It scares me how deep I am with you and how easy it would be for you to devastate me.”

Her admission pummeled me straight in the solar plexus. The beauty and ugly of what she said dug into me until all I could do was hold her against me and bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.

“Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”

She sniffed and clung to the back of my shirt. “You put yourself between me and a mountain lion. I believe you.”

“Overgrown kitty cat,” I muttered.

She laughed then yanked on my hair to raise my head. Her mouth was waiting for me. I’d wasted a lot of opportunities in my life, I would not waste another second not kissing Elise.

Chapter Thirty-one

Elise

Throwingmyheadback,my laughter echoed off the elevator walls. “I wasn’t in charge of the pasta, so it can’t be my fault it was ruined.”

Weston tugged me into his side. “You were distracting me. Our teacher is going to fail us. Do you know I’ve never failed anything in my life?”

“That’s because you never took cooking lessons.” I nibbled on his proud, scruffy chin as we ascended to the penthouse. “I’m not surprised you’ve never failed, you overachiever.”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Taken down by gummy pasta.”

I grasped the lapels of his jacket. “We’re awful cooks, but we had fun, didn’t we?”

He took my face in his hands and slowly looked me over. The corners of his mouth hitched, and so did my breath.

“I can’t think of anything more fun—outside the bedroom—than destroying every single dinner we’ve attempted to make in Chef Sandra’s class.”

“Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too, baby.”

It’d been almost two weeks since the gala. Weston had been making a concerted effort to be an attentive boyfriend, even in the midst of dealing with supplier issues in California. There had been a couple days I’d barely seen him, but he’d let me know I was on his mind through emails and texts and then curling his long body around mine in bed at the end of the day.

We’d just finished our final cooking lesson, and although we hadn’t learned a thing, I wanted to sign up for another. Weston was so very capable in every aspect of his life except this one. Aside from the three meals he’d perfected, he was a terrible cook.

So was I.

But damn, did we have fun trying and failing.

It was also a relief to know Weston wasn’t perfect at everything. A relief for me, not him. He really, really didn’t like not being able to master something.

Our mouths were latched as we stumbled into Weston’s apartment. He dug his fingers into my hair, keeping me in place so he could devour my lips with his. He always kissed me like it was our last.

I tugged his shirt from his pants and glided my palms over his taut abs, sighing into his mouth. His abs flexed, and I circled my arms around his waist, stroking the line of muscle along his spine. He made me dizzy with desire, and it hadn’t lessened over time. If anything, it had only gotten stronger.

A throat cleared. “Now might be the time to let you know I’m here.”

Weston immediately pushed me behind him, and I peeked around to see the intruder. Miles was kicked back in the living room, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, a bottle of water in one hand, a paperback in the other.

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