Dear Grumpy Boss: A Brother’s Best Friend Office Romance (The Harder They Fall)

GOING TO WYOMING HAD been the right decision.

I still felt like a vital part of me had wilted, but while I was there, I didn’t have time to concentrate on the loss. The ranch wasn’t only a ranch, it was a luxury resort. So when Saoirse and I weren’t brushing horses and cooing over newborn calves, we were getting massages and spa treatments. Then we visited with her brother, Lock, and his wife, Elena. They had two kids who were all over the place, entertaining and sassy.

The dread only returned when we touched down in Denver.

That part of me was still wilted. My heart ached so badly I kept touching my chest, expecting it to be tender, but this ache was deep down.

I told myself at least the worst was over. I couldn’t be rejected again. It had already happened.

Now, I was about getting on with my life.

I had no choice.

Rebecca greeted me with her signature flair when I passed by her reception desk. I’d brought her back a postcard of cowboys wearing nothing but boots, covering their dicks with their hats. She told me it was going on the front of her refrigerator so Sam would pick up on her newfound cowboy kink and invest in some chaps.

I stupidly thought everything was going to be okay, but when I sat down at my desk, I was proven wrong.

A single Post-it.

As harmless as those fluffy white caterpillars with toxic pin-cushion hair.

I shoved it with my pen. I did not want the thing on my desk.

But it wasn’t budging, and my eyes weren’t avoiding the neatly written black print standing out in stark relief on the square of yellow paper.

A study showed that couples’ heartbeats synchronize

when they’re together.

No wonder I’m out of sync without you.

I love you.

What the hell was this?

Tears sprung to my eyes. My teeth dug into my bottom lip to keep them from spilling over.

I crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash. But having it in the small can under my desk was too close, so I picked up the whole thing, carried it to the break room, and dumped my trash into the bin there. Then I strode back to my desk and turned on my computer.

My hands were trembling as I typed out an email response to that utter nonsense.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Weston,

Please refrain from leaving anything on my desk unless it pertains to Andes. It’s incredibly unprofessional to bring personal matters to the office. You have the luxury of an office where you can hide your reactions. I am sitting in the middle of my coworkers, forced to read a love note from the man, my boss, who effectively gutted me.

This is not fair, and if it continues, working at Andes will be untenable for me.

• Elise

I stared at the email for several minutes, my stomach churning madly. Then I took a deep breath and deleted it all. If I opened up contact between us, he’d take it as permission to continue, and I didn’t want that.

I had no idea what Weston was doing now. He’d made it abundantly clear he couldn’t be in a relationship with me. I truly had thought that would be the end of everything. But while I was in Wyoming, he’d texted me nonstop. Saoirse had eventually taken my phone from me.

All these thoughts would be saved for later, when I was home with a glass of wine and Saoirse to yell our frustrations to the universe. Another deep breath and I tucked it all away.

Everything was going well until noon. My stomach growled, notifying me it was time to grab Simon and Rebecca for lunch. Before I could shut down my computer or make any move, the distant ding of the elevator shot like a bullet to the part of my brain that told me it was time for flight.

Moments later, Weston Aldrich strode through the creative floor. His long, lean legs carried him toward me so swiftly I hadn’t been able to brace myself for his presence.

He stopped in front of my desk, his fingertips pressing on the edge.

“Hello, Elise.”

I blinked up at him, focusing somewhere over his shoulder. “Hello.”

“I was wondering if you’d join me for lunch today.”

He might as well have slapped me for how violently I flinched. “What?” I wheezed.

“I’d like to have lunch with you. Will you join me? I made reservations—”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

He went still, the tips of his fingers turning white from how hard he leaned on them.

“Please.”

His forceful plea was what did it. Finally, I forced my eyes to his. It was a mistake. My agony reflected back at me, which didn’t make any sense. He had chosen this. Why was he here, acting like this was just as torturous for him as it was for me?

I could have thrown what he’d said to me when I’d tried to bring him lunch back at him. I could have been cruel and mean, telling him he’d wasted his time coming here and should have just called.

But I’d never allow myself to lash out because I was hurting. Elaine had worn her pain like porcupine needles. Becoming my mother was my worst nightmare. Weston wasn’t going to turn me into her.

“Are you looking for closure? I’ve told you my opinion on that.” I gestured back and forth between us. “What you’re doing now is only prolonging the process of moving on. We don’t need to see each other. I don’t want to.”

He pressed his palms flat on my desk and bent forward, his voice low and urgent. “No one is moving on, Elise.”

My breath hitched, but I held strong. “This is inappropriate.”

“Come with me.”

“No.”

He shuddered. His shoulders shook, and his eyes squeezed closed for a few seconds. I understood that feeling. I’d had it for weeks now.

“Tonight, then.”

I stayed firm, even as his pleas sliced through me like the sharpest blade.

“No, Weston.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to beg, I guessed, but Simon and Rebecca crowded in next to him, and Simon actually nudged Weston’s side with his elbow.

“Ready to go, Lise?” Rebecca chirped.

“Lunch is on me today, love,” Simon added.

I grabbed my phone, leaving everything else behind, and vaulted up from my chair. “I’m ready.”

I left Weston standing by my desk, but not before I caught his bereft expression.

What was he doing? And why now, after everything?

Two bouquets of pink flowers waited for me at home.

I frowned at them, then at Saoirse. “Two? Really?”

“Actually”—she plucked the card from the smaller bouquet—“this one is mine. It says, ‘To Saoirse. Thanks for taking care of my girl when I didn’t. I heard you like flowers too. Enjoy.’ So, yeah. Weston’s trying to win me to his side.”

“Are there sides?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you. Does he feel like your enemy now?”

“I feel like he’s a stranger.” I squinted at the flowers, which were too pretty for me to throw away. “I’m not reading the card.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“No. Yes.” She reached for the card. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “No. I don’t want anymore ‘I love yous’ from him. They don’t mean anything.”

“They mean something.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “One bouquet and you’re on his side?”

“I thought there were no sides.”

I had to laugh. “I don’t even understand what’s happening right now. Why is he sending us flowers?”

She raised a shoulder. “The only way you’ll find that out is if you talk to him. Don’t you want to at least tell him what you think of him?”

“I don’t, no. That won’t do anything for me besides pick at wounds. I just want this to all be over.”

My bottom lip started to quiver, and a wave of despondency swept me under. I’d had time to get used to it, but there were still instances where I couldn’t wrap my head around our ending. This was one of those times. I hoped it was a terrible dream and I’d wake beside Weston. He’d hold me and assure me he’d never choose anything over me.

That wasn’t happening. He’d already done the choosing.