Page 58 of The Wrong Boss

“Don’t get too cocky, Cole,” my father noted—but he was grinning.

“You’re one to talk, old man,” I ribbed, and the two of them laughed.

Seven years ago, I never could have imagined that my life could end up here. Reaching out to my birth father had changed everything. I’d jumped from the software company to Hearst within two years, and now I was enjoying being part of something bigger than myself. I could see the shadow of my own features on my father’s older face. I recognized the sharp look in his eyes when he reviewed quarterly reports and new business ideas. I watched him interact with partners and clients, and I saw some of the essence that made me the salesman and businessman I was.

Icamefrom somewhere. The rootlessness and confusion I’d grown up with—and the shock of finding out I was adopted—had settled. I had a place, and it was right here.

If I hadn’t had that conversation with Carrie while we sat atthat hotel bar in New Jersey all those years ago, would I have found the courage to reach out to my father? Would I have made that call? Gone through with the meeting?

I remember the weeks after I met her, when it felt like I was guided by an invisible hand. I’d felt lighter. Braver. I’d had Carrie’s voice in my ear, challenging me, pushing me.

Now I was heading up a huge investment firm—but that wasn’t what made this job so special to me. I could stand next to a man who was my blood and feel like I had a place here.

I’d never had that before. Not in childhood. Not in adolescence or when I pursued my career. For the first time in my life, I felt like I’d landed somewhere I belonged.

“Barb tells me the wedding preparations are coming along nicely,” Ted noted. “That daughter of mine isn’t running you too ragged, is she? I’ll be happy when she finally ties the knot. Then it’ll be both daughters married, and I’ll be able to rest.”

I grinned at my future father-in-law, even though discomfort churned in my gut. Alba and I hadn’t broached the subject of “dalliances” since that brief conversation the day I brought Carrie to the apartment. I still wasn’t sure where we stood—wasn’t sure if she felt as strongly about loyalty and fidelity as I did.

I still wasn’t sure if marrying her was the right thing to do. But how could I turn back now, when Ted was my father’s best friend, his business partner, his confidant?

If I broke things off with Alba, I’d lose everything that had quickly become so precious to me. I’d lose my place here, next to the family I’d never had.

Maybe it was just cold feet. I’d never been married, after all.It was natural to have doubts, wasn’t it? So I smiled at Ted and said, “Alba’s managing everything,” I admitted. “She’s got me double-checking the shade of gold glitter on invitations and making sure our new florist holds up their end of the bargain. Not sure I’d be able to pull off that kind of event without her.”

“She’s like her mother,” Ted answered, a little sardonically. I wondered if Alba’s view on marriage being transactional came from her own upbringing. My future father-in-law nodded at me and added, “We’re looking forward to welcoming you into the family officially, Cole. I hope you know it.”

“Couldn’t have said it better,” my father said with a nod. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to come out early. I know you can handle the business with one hand tied behind your back. But that woman you’re marrying… That’s what’s important.”

A dagger went through my chest, but I hid my reaction to his words as best I could. The two older men watched me, all pride and acceptance, and I felt like a disloyal fraud. Breaking off the engagement would be disastrous. Besides, the only reason these doubts had entered my mind was because a ghost from my past had reappeared after a seven-year absence. I couldn’t throw away everything I’d achieved for her. The acceptance. The belonging. The fatherly pride.

But the ghost in question chose that moment to step out of the clubhouse and make her way toward our group. The three of us turned to watch her approach, and I bristled at the attention that the older men were paying her. In that fluttering red skirt that hit her at mid-thigh, her legs looked as delicious as they’d been when they’d been wrapped around my head. Herhair bounced as she made her way down the steps, one of the clubhouse employees carrying her borrowed golf bag down the steps beside her.

Her hips swayed as she walked, and the sun kissed every plane of her curvy body.

A body I’d tasted. A body I’d claimed.

A body I’dmissed.

I cleared my throat and busied myself checking the clubs in my bag.

“Gentlemen,” she greeted as she approached, a teasing note in her voice. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go,” my father said with a jolly laugh, and he climbed into his golf cart next to Ted, the two of them taking off down the paved path toward the first set of tees.

Carrie thanked the worker who loaded her bag in the back of our cart, then swung herself into place on the seat. I took my place behind the wheel and caught myself staring at the expanse of thigh so close to mine. My palm tingled, as if it could remember how it felt to stroke that skin all those years ago.

Gritting my teeth, I turned forward and followed the older men toward the first hole. Ted was already teeing up by the time we parked our cart and grabbed our drivers, his swing fast and aggressive. The ball hooked badly to the left, and Ted swore as my father laughed.

My father took his shot and hit the fairway. Carrie gestured for me to go, her eyes glimmering under the rim of her red visor, hair fluttering in the soft, warm breeze. She looked delectable. I shouldn’t have noticed.

I took my shot, the ball landing well short of where my father’s had. It rolled onto the first cut of rough.

“Not bad,” Carrie said, and took her spot between the white tees.

“You sure you don’t want to go down to the blue tees?” my father asked, pointing to the tee box several yards in front of us.

“I can’t,” she explained. “Mr. Big Boss Man was being all arrogant and condescending, so now my pride is on the line. I have to prove myself.”

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