Page 24 of Gross Misconduct

He pulled his chair in closer and let his guard down a little. He even pulled off his jacket and revealed his muscled arms and rock-hard chest in the black polo shirt he had on. My pulse rate quickened. I could see the man had a great body, but why all the warm fuzzy feelings? I hadn’t felt those in years.

“So why be so crusty all the time? Why not let out the real Jill once in a while?”

“When I do that, people take advantage of the real Jill. And I’m fairly confident I’m past that point with you.”

His thoughtful expression warmed me up inside, and I didn’t like that feeling. It left me exposed. I kept telling myself this was the same doofus who’d slept with all the hot chicks and had dared to fool around with a much-loved teammate’s wife. I didn’t want to feel anything for him, because he was dangerous.

“Who screwed you over, Jill? You’re way too bitter about something.”

Like I’d ever tell him, even if his dreamy eyes were watching me intently. “I’ve had my fair of challenges. I also don’t make millions of dollars a year to ease my worries.”

“Are you sure you haven’t played hockey? That was agreat deflection.”

I sipped my tea and scalded my mouth. Shit. I set it back down and shrugged. “Do we need to get into personal details?”

“I think we do. What if people ask me? I should know things about my new girlfriend.”

Now he was totally full of shit. “No one is going to ask you. No one is going to care about me.”

“Look, I should know if you have siblings, kids, or if you were married before. These are basics.”

“All a no.”

“I have an older sister and a younger brother. One is in Junior, and the other is a real estate agent. I have no kids that I know of and no former wives. Tell me about your parents.”

Now we were getting into dicey territory. Did I want to reveal any of that to him? Could I trust him not to throw it in my face later? But why would he? He wasn’t Eli. Eli had always looked down on me as the woman who came up the ranks against all the odds. I’d started working at Richardson’s the minute I could, starting with Saturdays only. Then I’d pick up hours in the evening to be away from my mother. After that, when I realized she wasn’t going to help me through school, I worked there full time during the summer break, and almost full time while at school. I barely had time for anything else. Eventually, I’d become a supervisor in the shoe department, then the manager. By the time I’d finished school, I was in middle management. A touching little story, but Eli felt sorry for me, and made it clear that he was always better than I was—he better-educated and with the pedigree, while I was the former sales associate.

“They divorced when I was young.”

“Let me guess, no relationship with him? That would explain some of your issues.”

My back went up. “My issues? Excuse me?”

“You’re on the defensive all the time. Maybe not having a dad around contributed to that. Is that so far-fetched?”

“I didn’t have a mother around either,” I muttered, loud enough for him to hear, which I regretted immediately.

He frowned. “Did you grow up in foster care for a while?” he asked, his voice dripping with pity.

I stared down at my chai latte, wondering how far down this road I wanted to go. “No, she was around enough to prevent that from happening. Let’s just say my mom was distant. She did the bare minimum, and once I hit my early teens, I took care of myself and her. She provided a roof over my head and bought the groceries, so there was that. But she didn’t want to be a mom. She was busy working, watching TV, hanging out with her friends, dating, and living her life. I went to school, cooked meals, cleaned the house, and when I got a job, I had the privilege of helping pay the bills, and then she made me pay rent. Imagine a fifteen-year-old having to pay part of the mortgage and car payments. More than half my paycheck went to her, and she was always quick to remind me. At least she didn’t bring sleazy boyfriends around, but she often disappeared for a week here or there on holidays with her boyfriend. She wasn’t a mom. She was a shitty roommate.”

“Oh. Man.” He didn’t have anything else to say. What could he say?

“I didn’t get to play team sports or musical instruments because I couldn’t pin her down to sign off on them. And she certainly wasn’t going to pay for it. I vowed when I turned eighteen I’d move out, and I did. I got a full-time job, went to school, got my business degree, finished my MBA while I was with Richardson’s, and now I’m paying down my student loans.”

And that one hundred grand from Clay, the money I’d turned down, would have covered it.

Jeremy looked a little shell-shocked, but he’d asked for it. “I’m sorry for being an asshole. And for bringing this up. I get that it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” I said, mustering up a pathetic smile. “And don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve made something of myself. She’s still an asshole.”

“You are a badass, Jill. You’re head of PR for a professional hockey team, and you’re not even thirty. I’d call that a success.”

He meant it. I knew that, but it was so hard taking the compliment. “Anyway, let’s take a few selfies so I can post them on IG. I’m going to tag you, and we’ll see how that goes.”

Something changed on his face. Was it because I’d gone back to the all-business side of me? I didn’t care. I was done sharing and needed to get back into work mode. And despite the somber chat we’d just had, we’d plastered on some authentic smiles for the selfies, and when he pulled me onto his lap, I squealed, and he took the picture. It turned out to be the cutest.

“All right,” I said, finishing off my latte. “I think we are good. I hope your road trip is a success.”

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