Page 32 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

He’s in the middle of some chaotic cluster of boys, darting between legs like the game is his playground. His eyes scan the field, his focus sharp, and when he finally makes contact with us, his face lights up.

Caleb waves wildly, and my heart lightens.

Leah’s beside me, still cheering like a complete amateur. “Go! Uh, pass! There’s a pass coming your way!” Her voice is so loud it startles me out of my thoughts. “That’s called a pass, right?” she asks me.

I chuckle, amused by how out of her depth she is. “Yeah, you called it right.” There’s something oddly charming about watching her flail through soccer terminology.

“See?” She shoots me a look, her grin wide. “I know things. I’m not just here for moral support.”

I glance at her. And for a second, my mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t. It’s that jean skirt she’s wearing. They hug her curves so perfectly, it’s almost distracting. No, itisdistracting. Damn it, Silas, focus on the game.

But I can’t shake the thought.

“Where did you get the jersey?” I ask, my eyes raking over her Arsenal jersey. “I didn’t take you for a soccer fan.”

“A friend.” She doesn’t look at me as she answers.

A friend? Amalefriend? I want to ask, but I keep my lips sealed as I watch my son dance past one of the defenders and fire the ball over the goalpost.

Four months of this.Four months pretending that Leah Grayson is my fiancée. I want to say I’m only doing it for Caleb and the Caldwell deal, but I know better. There’s more to it. Something I’m not ready to face just yet.

Ezra crosses my mind again, but I try to shake him off.

Caleb catches the ball and makes a quick pass to his teammate. And then, boom! He scores.

Leah and I are on our feet at the same time, both cheering like idiots. “That’s my boy!” I yell, throwing my fist in the air.

Leah’s screaming right beside me. And for a moment, we’re in sync, celebrating together. I glance at her, and it hits me. This. This feeling right here. With Caleb scoring and Leah by my side. It feels good. Almost too good.

I catch her looking at me, her face bright with excitement, and for a split second, there’s a connection between us. Something that’s not just about the game or Caleb. It’s more.

“You’re giving one hell of a performance,” I murmur.

She throws me a look, her dark hair blowing into her face. “I’m not performing. I’m genuinely having a good time watching Caleb.”

“If you say so.” I shrug, straightening my white shirt.

As the cheering dies down, we settle back into our seats. Leah’s smile disappears, and she looks deep in thought. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see that she’s tense like there’s something she’d rather not say, but she wants to.

“Just ask.”

She frowns. “What?”

“There’s something on your mind, I can tell.” We lock eyes. “You may as well ask.”

She pouts, takes a deep breath, and asks, “Why don’t you ever talk about your brother?” Her question catches me off guard, but before I can decide whether to answer, she follows up with, “And why aren’t you married? I mean, you’re,” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish that sentence. She clears her throat, stumbling over her words before finally blurting out, “middle-aged?”

I frown. “Middle-aged? Really?”

She smirks, clearly pleased with herself. “I mean, I didn’t want to sayold man.”

I shake my head. “I’ll have you know, fifty-two is not middle-aged. It’s . . .seasoned.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark of something more behind her teasing. “Fine,seasonedman. But seriously, why didn’t you ever settle down?”

“Why do you hate your father so much?” I ask before I can stop myself. It’s a question that’s been nagging at me since we started this whole arrangement.

“Isn’t he your best friend? He never told you why I can’t stand him?”

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