One Bossy Date: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

Two Months Later

Two months.

Two freaking months and I still have days where I’m trying to forget Lanai and Brock and the kiss that left my toes curled long after I came back home.

It’s like some magic from that not date rubbed off after all.

That trip brought in streams of new followers and videos garnering millions of views.

Jenn and Maisy think my high-quality, exclusive videos were what got things rolling, but I know the real truth.

That bruising kiss with Grumpmuffin opened up the entire universe. But it’s been two months and I wish I could forget sometimes.

I’ve tried to find him on social media, but the man is a ghost.

I don’t even know his last name. He also made it abundantly clear he doesn’t care to see me again.

And honestly, he’s right.

We shared a magical night in a majestic place. Nothing more.

I should just get over it.

But as I try to sip my fuchsia-colored chipotle chai latte from Sweeter Grind, it’s hard.

Lanai was also the last place I was able to squeeze in. Ever since I came home, I haven’t been able to shoot anything besides local stuff within an hour or two of Seattle.

Don’t get me wrong.

This is an awesome place, so there’s always plenty of local stuff.

It could be worse.

But slower content means watching my already meager ad revenue crashing. So I keep applying for side jobs in online content just to keep my money up, and so far, no dice.

It takes a toll on a girl’s motivation.

Jenn keeps hounding me about this marketing opportunity at Winthrope.

As if that wouldn’t just extend the free rent Mr. Tall, Growly, and Dangerously-Good-At-Kissing already enjoys in my head. And if I took her up on the crazy offer and we somehow collided without him wanting it—

Yeah.

No.

Not happening.

I sip my chai again, trying to ground myself in the moment. I love this drink.

Someday, I’ll make it to exotic places like India. Their chai must be mind-blowing, but even if I could magically fund that trip, it’s too far from home.

I wouldn’t get back fast enough if anything comes up.

Sigh.

Just to indulge my fantasies, I’m searching ‘American content creators for India’ when my phone rings.

Annoying. I thought I turned it off.

But Maisy’s name flashes across the screen as I hold it up.

Weird. She makes a point not to disturb me when I’m working, unless—

I swipe the green bar.

“Hello?”

The way she dry heaves into the phone turns my blood cold.

I know it’s bad news before she says a single word.

“Maisy, are you—what’s wrong, honey?”

My sister takes a deep, rattling breath.

I use the precious second to shove my laptop in my bag in case I need to bug out now.

“P-Pippa, can you—can you—c-come—”

Oh, God. I’m going to have a heart attack before she gets it out.

“Maisy, calm down. Deep breath. Hold it for a second, and then tell me what’s wrong.” I’m on my feet, darting out the door and heading for my car.

It’s a crapbox Dad helped me buy from the salvage yard, so the damn door chooses now to stick. I fight to pry it open like I’m struggling with an undercooked crab shell.

“Come to the hospital!” she manages.

Shit.

“Okay. Seattle Memorial?” I jostle the door until it pops open and practically flings me on the ground.

“Y-yeah. The—” She sobs. “The one we always go to.”

Seattle Memorial it is.

I’m still petrified to ask why.

“On my way, just sit tight.” I suck a cutting breath. “Is it you or Dad?”

“Dad. H-he was so pale. Pippa, he’s—” Her voice cracks with pain again. “I don’t think he’s okay.”

“I’m coming,” I say softly around the hardening lump in my throat. “Maisy, I need you to wait for me. Grab some water or eat ice chips from the machine until I can get there, okay? It won’t be long.”

I know the hospital ice is a comfort she liked when she was a little girl.

Ever since Dad’s health started flagging and we had to take care of him.

God, I hope he’s okay.

I’m suddenly grateful for the lack of side gigs and travel prospects.

Maisy may be growing up, but she can’t deal with these ugly surprises alone.

She’s only seventeen.

Damn.

Why did I have to leave for the coffee shop today?

I don’t count how many traffic laws I break, but I’m at the hospital in just over fifteen minutes after swiveling through the maze of traffic.

I glance at my phone as I jog through the parking garage toward the elevator.

Maisy never gave me a room number, so I decide to try the ER first.

Dear God—Dear Universe—please take care of him.

Don’t take him away.

Not yet.

I bound into the ER waiting area breathless, looking for any sign of Maisy or her familiar pink cardigan.

Nothing. I’m about to sneak past the locked doors when a voice behind me calls, “Ma’am, can I help you?”

I spin around to find a nurse staring at me, her arms akimbo.

“I hope so. I’m looking for my daddy, Harold Renee?”

“Oh, yes. You’re the other daughter? Right this way.”

Geez. I don’t usually say, ‘Daddy.’

But I guess that’s where my mind is now.

Shrinking. Scared. Childish.

If Dad’s health has truly deteriorated for the worse, I don’t know how we’ll manage.

I just know that for Maisy’s sake, I’d better live up to my responsible big sister role and figure it out fast.

Life doesn’t stop for grief.

Not for anyone.

Just past the massive metal doors, Maisy sits in the off-white hall, right outside Dad’s room just like I told her.

Her face is a red mess. I see the dried tracks where tears streamed down her cheeks.

I drop to the floor beside her. “Is he okay, Mais?”

She shrugs. “They won’t tell me much because I’m not eighteen. The nurse said she’d talk when you got here.”

I nod. “You never texted me the room number.”

“God, you’re right. Sorry!”

She hurls herself at me, this little cannonball of sad fear.

I hold her, running my fingers through her long dirty-blond hair and tuck my arm around her shoulder.

“Maisy, it’s okay. It’s an honest mistake.”

She pulls away from me. Something hits my nose and stinks like pure salt from the coffee cup she’s holding.

“What are you drinking?” I know I stressed water. I didn’t want anything caffeinated making her more hysterical.

“Chicken broth. The nurse insisted. She told me it would make me feel better, but so far…eh.”

I nod. “I need to check on Dad.”

I step inside his room with the waiting nurse.

He’s asleep, this thin, sagging lump almost as pale as the sheets wrapped around him.

He’s not in any obvious pain, at least, though he doesn’t look peaceful either when he’s connected to a spiderweb of machines. There’s a tube in his nose and an IV in his arm and wires running everywhere.

I glance at the heart monitor, holding my breath.

Something seems off, though it might just be my imagination.

I’m no doctor, but I’ve been through this drill enough times to know a steady jagged line is normally good. When the pattern stabs outside baseline, too low or too high, like it is right now…

I swallow thickly.

The nurse clears her throat loudly and the door swings open, catching my attention. I look over to see Maisy coming in to join us. A tall, dark-haired woman marches in behind her.

“I’m Dr. Ligotts. Are you his primary caregiver?” the doctor asks.

“I thought he doesn’t have a caregiver? He’s a grown man,” Maisy cuts in, shaking her head.

The poor kid doesn’t realize that’s what we’ve been doing this whole time.

I nod. “Yeah, you could call me that. I’m his oldest daughter.”

“Ah, good. So, Harold’s condition is stable right now, but we do need to keep him another full night for observation. You’re welcome to stay, or you can go home and we’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“We’re staying!” Maisy insists.

I guess that’s settled.

“What even happened this time?” I ask.

“The drugs are killing him.” Maisy rubs the red, puffy spots around her eyes.

Dr. Ligotts looks at me. “His degenerative condition is progressing, I’m afraid, and the drugs are very strong. I’m sure you recall he received a new steroid last month to help slow the progression, plus an anticonvulsant to prevent seizures. The anticonvulsant medication worked a little too well, it seems. His heart wasn’t contracting fast enough when he overexerted himself on the stairs. That’s what caused the fainting.”

“Wait. The seizure drug made his heart stop?” I ask.

“It sounds worse than it is,” the doctor rushes out. “Regrettably, these drugs can produce volatile results if the dosage isn’t exactly right. We’re working to refine his prescription right now.”

Yeah, no crap.

This is our second time in the hospital this year with a drug change.

“Every patient’s needs are different, Miss Renee, and so is their tolerance. As much as I wish this was an exact science, sometimes it takes several adjustments to determine what’s optimal.” The doctor folds her arms.

I sigh. I’m in no mood to argue with experts today.

“I understand, but if a doctor knows that—and I’m guessing you do—then why wouldn’t they just hold him overnight upfront when changing the meds? That seems better than sending him home and just waiting for something to go wrong.”

“I’ll talk to the rest of the team and see if that’s an option for future changes,” she says.

“Thank you.” I look beside her to Maisy.

My heart breaks a little more.

She’s so small, hugging herself and barely breathing.

“Let’s get some real food in you, sis. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

I lead her down to the cafeteria where we order grilled cheese sandwiches and fries. We’ve been here enough times to know it’s one of the few decent options that doesn’t taste like cardboard.

“Well, do you think he’s actually going to be okay this time or are you just doing the brave big sister thing?” Maisy asks, eyeing me intently.

“I do, Mais. I’m sorry you were alone when it happened, but thank God you found him.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine. You can’t always be at home.”

Guilt knifes me in the belly.

I’m the oldest daughter.

It’s my job to take the brunt of this, but Maisy hates it when I remind her. This conversation is already hard enough.

“How freaked out were you?” I ask quietly.

“Um, freaked. I thought he was dying! His pulse was so faint, Pippy. Like barely there. I think he flatlined twice in the a-ambulance. Even though the medics swore his heart didn’t stop.” Her voice quivers.

I take a deep breath, bracing for what’s next.

There’s no easy way to say this.

“I’ve got some good news and bad news,” I say.

She blinks at me, her pale-green eyes a shade lighter than mine. “Um, you mean there’s more besides finding Dad passed out on the floor?”

The sigh rattles my shoulders. “Maisy, I’m suspending the pipe dream of paying all our bills with my travel stuff for now. Dad’s new medicine is really expensive and this is like the fourth emergency stay this year. Overnight hospital stays are like ten thousand dollars a pop. Most of that’s covered, but still… There are holes in the insurance. Never mind the furnace sounding funky and that plumbing bill from winter we’re still paying off. We were already strapped for cash—”

“Pippa, no!” She covers her ears for a second, her hair flapping from side to side. “You can’t just quit because Dad’s sick. I mean, what else is new? It’s not fair for you to support all three of us when I’m seventeen and I can get a job—”

“I’m not supporting all three of us,” I say. “Dad still has his pension and disability. But it takes a lot to keep the house running and cover unexpected bills. You can’t mention this to him, Maisy. If you do, he’ll quit taking the pills. You know how stubborn he is. He won’t let us support him.”

She purses her lips. “Who does he think was keeping us out of collections?”

I wince. “Ehhh…I might have told him his VA insurance was covering incidentals. We’re lucky he hates paperwork.”

“Scandalous!” She makes a shocked face, her hands pressed to her cheeks, suddenly the bright-eyed kid I love again. “But you’re serious about your online stuff? You’re just gonna drop it?”

I rub my temples before I answer.

“We’ll call it a hiatus. I just need a steady check for a while. Six months, whatever. The good news is, I won’t be gone on weekends as much with the job I have in mind, so you should be able to do things then—”

“Yeah? What’s the bad news?”

I pause as cold reality sinks in, numbing me like an ice bath.

“I might be working until at least five o’clock some days, so I’ll need you to come home right after school. You don’t necessarily have to stay, but it might be better if you did. I just need you to make sure he’s okay, and text me if he isn’t.”

“I can do that. I come home after school anyway unless I have track or lit club, and the discussions are mostly online.” Her face sinks and she gives me a long look. “But Pippa, I’ve watched you build up your channels for years. You were making money—”

“Not enough,” I whisper.

“Ugh! I just hate to see you give up to take care of us. And I… I always thought maybe if you could do it, then maybe someday I could too,” she says.

That last part guts me.

“You want to be a travel influencer? I had no clue.”

“Not necessarily. I just want to do something cool and be successful. Like it’s nice knowing it’s even possible to do your own thing.”

“It’s not the end. I’m just taking a break. If everything lines up, I’ll still technically be in travel marketing. Jenn told me about a job at Winthrope headquarters downtown. Unless my recent review is some weird conflict of interest or something, I’m sure she’ll help me get it. Real money like that doesn’t grow on trees here in Seattle, and it has actual benefits.”

“I hope you’re not making a huge mistake,” she says quietly. “But that does sound okay-ish.”

I smile.

“I’m just doing what I have to. That’s life. Sometimes you just suck it up and make do.” She’s seventeen and hasn’t figured that out yet. I’ve done a good job of protecting her from what a two-timing prick reality can be. “Honestly, it could help me make new connections in the travel industry, so it isn’t a total loss. I could do a lot worse.”

“I hope you’re right,” Maisy says glumly.

Even with the rough smile I plaster on, I still don’t believe my own pep talk.

“Thanks a million for the awesome recommendation again! I don’t think I’d have landed this job without it. I was sure they’d pass me over when I was honest about the review. But I didn’t want to hide it and have someone find out about it later either,” I say.

“Buy me lunch and we’re good. You were right to be honest, Pippa. You’ll be great,” Jenn says cheerfully.

I follow her through the enormous building, walking like a nervous puppy. Every footstep echoes off the marble floor and high ceilings.

“This place is like a museum. I’d be lost without you.”

“Welcome to Corporate America. Intimidated yet?” She laughs. “Don’t worry, though. Most people only feel lost for a few weeks. After their first month, they know the layout.”

Great.

So I’m going to be stumbling around, lost in this place for a whole month?

But I can’t complain.

I need the money and settling into this palatial office feels like the least of my problems.

“I feel like an earthworm,” I say.

“Don’t! A lot of the junior copywriters and video editors are fairly new. You’ll fit right in.”

“Huh, yeah, I noticed. I mean, most of the team has been here less than six months, right? Why is that?”

“Don’t know. There’s been more pressure on marketing lately. They keep bringing in big ad agencies and consultants to bridge the gaps.” She glances up thoughtfully.

“That’s odd. A company as big and established as Winthrope shouldn’t be fighting so hard for good talent, should it? I thought marketing would just be a brand recognition thing—reminding people we’re here and glamorous.”

“You’d think, but social media keeps changing like crazy. I hear rumblings the TikTok people hate us, and they get a lot of views with everywhere else bleeding users.”

“Really? Why?”

“I wish I knew. It’s just weird. Several resorts took a real dive in their online ratings lately, but nothing much has changed in the internal customer satisfaction surveys. And our numbers are roughly the same as last year, so we haven’t seen a big drop-off in guests. For now.” She shrugs. “I worry the crappy reviews piling up will eventually scare off new guests.”

My mind jumps back to Lanai.

Grumpmuffin’s pathological obsession with my review makes more sense now. He must’ve had orders from the higher-ups to prevent a total massacre at all costs.

I blush, remembering where that led us.

“What’s up?” Jenn asks with a sly look.

I realize I’ve been quiet for a minute.

“Oh. Nothing.”

“What? I don’t believe it. You’re not all red for nothing!”

Damn her.

She knows the whole story, so there’s no point in rehashing it. “I’m just starting to see why the naked manager was having a conniption fit over my review.”

“Naked In Hawaii?” Jenn snorts. “I’m still surprised he lost his spaghetti. With the reviews, I mean, not you.”

She snickers.

“You are?” I ask.

“Resort managers don’t usually care that much. They usually push it off on corporate to deal with bad PR online,” she says.

“Oh, wow.” I laugh. “I’m sure he didn’t want anyone here to know.”

“Yeah, well, most of the time no one gets blamed for bad reviews unless they’re directly mentioned. We just have to hustle harder to maintain basic quality control. But I think if the execs found out about him showering in a guest’s room, that might’ve been a different story. He would’ve gotten a call from HR over that—and probably for dating you after you tried to split his head open.” She giggles.

“Jenn! It wasn’t a date,” I hiss.

“Uh-huh. And I’m not having a salmon sushi-burrito bigger than my head for lunch.” She flashes me a too-wide grin. “Come here, lady. There’s one more place you have to see before we try to do something useful. It’s kind of a perk of working on this floor. You’ll love it. But please keep your voice low and act nonchalant. It’s close to the bigwigs and they’re hanging out there all the time.”

I follow Jenn around a corner and—

Holy panorama.

The view is beyond breathtaking and we’re not even close enough yet to fully appreciate it.

Elliott Bay gleams under a sweeping wall of glass. The clear summer day makes the city look like an animated painting, alive and bristling with ocean and mountains and lazy ships. Mount Rainier is even out today, towering like a giant over a toy city.

Honestly, the view could rival the Space Needle, except it’s infinitely more private.

“Wh-oa,” I whisper.

I just stop and stare and don’t notice Jenn pointing at the door first.

“It gets better! Come on,” she urges, gesturing to a glass door I didn’t notice that leads to a wraparound balcony. “Best view in Seattle, right this way. It’s even more amazing without the glass filter.”

She charges ahead, holding the door for me.

I smile sincerely for the first time since I trudged into this place.

Only, as we’re walking through the door, a gaggle of well-dressed suits are coming our way.

And I, in my infinite grace, misstep.

I go plowing straight into one of the big bosses.

“What the hell?” he whispers.

My eyes flick up.

Oh, God.

I’m expecting to find some glowering old man with silver hair, ready to fire me on my first day for insolently ramming his executive highness.

That should be fun to explain in future interviews.

I’m about to start machine-gunning apologies, but my brain catches up and processes what—and who—I’m looking at.

I recognize him instantly.

I’d know him anywhere.

How could I ever forget that moonlit kiss I’ve been obsessing over for months?

My jaw falls open and my lungs stall.

Brock’s piercing blue eyes lock with mine like lasers, and the feral scowl on his face softens.

Panic time.

Heat throbs under my cheeks as an unmistakable spark flares in his eyes.

He sees me, too.

He knows.

Holy shitting mackerel.

Didn’t I want to see him again? Back when I had a functioning brain?

Um, yes.

But not here.

Not now.

Not like this.

I’m so dead.

I’ve got to get out of here, or I’ll be the next Renee with a hospital trip.

I have no earthly idea what to do, so I grab Jenn’s hand while she looks at me like my hair is on fire.

“B-bathroom!” I spit, the word just a rush of strained air.

“Come again?”

“Umm, Jenn—remind me where the restroom is?”

“Of course. It’s just—”

I spin around and bolt back the way we came, forgetting to let go of her.

She lets out a yelp and I pull her along like a doll behind me.

Even when I let go, she fights to keep pace.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” she whispers in my ear. “Pippa! How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Just help me find the ladies’ room,” I yell over my shoulder.

“Oh.” Her voice goes up an octave like she suddenly understands why we’re rushing for the bathroom.

“That was him!” I whisper after a few more paces.

“Him?”

“Brock. Naked Brock. Grumpmuffin,” I mutter out the side of my mouth, hoping no one else hears.

We definitely get a few bewildered looks as we fly across the marble floor.

Then we reach the bathroom.

Jenn stops in her tracks, laughing for what seems like a solid minute. I’m looking back with dread over my shoulder, half expecting him to burst in behind us.

After all, he’s very good at unexpected surprises.

“Are you done?” I bite off.

“Let’s go.” She pushes the door open and pulls me through it. Jenn bends over to check the stalls for shoes.

This is so middle school.

“So you’re sure it was him? A hundred percent sure that was your Brock?” she says, her eyes wide and searching.

“Hell yes! That’s the guy I made out with. I knew he worked in Seattle sometimes, but to smack right into him my first morning here—what are the odds?”

She’s freaking gawking at me now. I guess that says everything.

No wild Vegas sprees for you, Pippa. You’ll lose every penny.

“What?” I snap, tapping my shoe impatiently. “Don’t tell me you think he’ll get me fired. Because if he wants to come at me for a little accidental bump, I’ll—”

“Piper, that guy…” She stops and swallows. “You don’t know, do you? That was—”

“Yeah! I know he was staring,” I cut in. “He recognized me, too. There’s your proof I’m not crazy, okay?”

Jenn just stares at me with her mouth hanging open. I want to shrink through the floor.

I fold my arms. “…what? Why are you looking at me like that?”