Page 33 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“No.” I shake my head. “If he did, I wouldn’t be asking you. Hell, I don’t think he knows.”

“Oh, trust me, he knows.” Her lips press into a thin line.

“So . . . ?”

She hesitates, a frown appearing slightly. “That’s a big question for a soccer game, don’t you think?”

I shrug. “We’ve got time.”

She lets out a sigh, leaning back against the bleacher. “I hate him because I blame him for my mom’s death.”

I frown. “I thought she died in an accident?”

“She did. But,” her voice trails off, and I can see the pain in her eyes, even if she’s trying to hide it. “It’s complicated.”

I want to ask more. But before I can, she bends down to grab her soda from the ground.

Then, out of nowhere, a sudden commotion occurs. The guy sitting next to Leah bumps into her. And in a split second, her soda spills all over her shirt.

“Shit!” She jumps up, her face scrunched in annoyance as she looks down at the mess. Her jersey is soaked, clinging to her skin in a way that’s probably uncomfortable for her.

This is doingnothingfor my self-control.

“Dude!” The bald man raises a hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I—"

“I’ve got a spare shirt in the car,” I cut him off, already standing. “Come on.”

She nods, clearly annoyed, and follows me to the parking lot. The sun’s setting down, and everywhere has that golden tint that comes with dusk. The air is chilly, and Leah’s folding her arms across her breasts to protect herself. I try not to stare.

We get to the car, and I hand her the shirt from the trunk. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, slipping into the car to change.

I drove us over to the school, so there’s no driver to be wary of.

I stand there, hands in my pockets, trying to be a gentleman, but the door is slightly ajar, and I can’t help but catch a glimpse. Her bra comes off first. And for a split second, I see her bare skin. Her modest breasts and pink, hard nipples.

My body reacts before my brain can catch up. I quickly turn around, clenching my fists, willing the image out of my head. But it’s too late.

Fuck.

I’ve got a situation in my pants that’s getting harder, literally, to ignore. I squeeze my eyes shut, muttering to myself like an idiot.

Think of something else. Think of the game. The nightmare. Literally anything besides the fact that Leah’s half-naked in my car.

Goddamn it, Silas.

When she steps out of the car, wearing my white T-shirt that’s too big for her, the tension between us is so thick I can practically taste it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her brown eyes innocent.

I feel like a pervert. “Yeah, I’m great.”

Her eyes flick down to my pants, and I swear she blushes before quickly looking away. We head back to the game, both of us pretending nothing happened. But something did. And it’s going to be impossible to ignore.

The game ends, and on our way home, Caleb is chattering away in the backseat. “I didn’t know you were going to be there!”

“You were sensational!” Leah exclaims. “When you sent the keeper the wrong way with that feint, I thought I was watching Messi!”

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