Page 5 of Coming for Her Grumpy Boss (Coming For Christmas #3)

chapter

five

Mia

“Mia, can you come into my office, please?”

Ford’s voice comes from the intercom on my phone, and I stare at it. No “Ms. Morales” and he added a please. What is happening right now? Maybe his mother called with bad news.

I poke the button. “Is ‘please’ a code word? Blink twice if your mother is in the building.”

“Come in, Mia,” he says, all even voice, zero blinking. “Before I revoke the please.”

Thorne left his office about fifteen minutes ago while Ford was still on the phone.

I stand from my desk and make my way over to the door that separates his executive suite from my outer office. I wipe my palms on my skirt and open the door. My steps falter when I find him sitting on the leather sofa that’s housed by the wall of windows.

The only thing that feels normal is the fact that he’s frowning at me.

“Frown confirmed,” I say. “The universe still spins.”

“Don’t push your luck,” he murmurs, patting the cushion again. “Sit before I change my mind, and I promise you’re going to like this impromptu meeting.”

“Okay,” I say, letting myself extend the end of the word.

“Mia,” he says again.

My name just rolls off his tongue easily, naturally, as if he says it at all hours of the night.

Well, that’s a dangerous thought. I briefly close my eyes and take a cleansing breath.

It took me nearly three months to get over my unfortunate and inconvenient crush on my grumpy boss.

I do not need to entertain those thoughts again.

Only stupid women crave the attention of men like Ford McCall. Yes, we’ve established that he’s a decent human being, but that doesn’t mean he’s relationship material.

Don’t be toxic, Mia.

“Did you need something?” I ask, still standing near the door.

He pats the couch cushion. “Come sit.”

I put my hand to my throat. Oh, no! He got bad news on that phone call. That has to be what’s happening. I swiftly make my way across the room and lower myself to the sofa.

“Do I need to sign a waiver? Or call in someone from HR?”

“Only if you plan to be difficult,” he says.

“That’s… likely.”

“So, not different than usual. Noted.”

“Is it one of your parents? Or your sister?”

The lines furrowing his brow deepen. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Is someone dying? Oh God, is it you? Do you have a brain tumor?”

“What in God’s name are you talking about? No one has a brain tumor,” he says. “Well, presumably some people do, unfortunately, though that is. But I do not,” he adds dryly. “And for the record, I have excellent brain health.”

“Debatable,” I mutter. “Exhibit A: voluntarily talking to me without coffee.”

“I’m reconsidering that part.”

“Well, something must be terribly wrong. You’re using my first name, and you invited me in to sit instead of just barking orders at me.”

“I do not bark orders,” he says.

I give him a sideways glance.

He exhales slowly. “I probably do speak abruptly at times.”

“Sure, we can go with that description.”

“I need a favor.”

“I’ve never been tested for bone marrow or anything, and I’ve heard that’s rather painful. I’d give you a kidney, though. Probably.”

“What?” He shakes his head. “I don’t need a kidney. In fact, please stop offering me any of your organs.”

“Fair enough. If this is about assembling furniture, I must admit that I’m a complete menace with an Allen wrench. But I am a genius when it comes to finding unsuspecting people to help with said tasks.”

“Not furniture.”

“Then do you need a body buried? Or the unaliving part that happens before burial?

“Stop offering felonies,” he says, but there’s the tiniest tug at his mouth. “Christ, woman.” He turns his body to face me more. “Instead of playing verbal charades, maybe you could let me just tell you what I need.”

“Right. That probably makes more sense.”

“Natasha is returning from her travels in time for the holidays,” he says.

Oh no. He’s going to ask me to pick out his girlfriend’s present or something horrifying like that. I will buy her something horribly tacky, I won’t be able to help myself.

“Thorne has informed me that she wants to rekindle our relationship, but that is not going to happen.” He shakes his head. “So I need a stand-in.”

“Do we send her a fruit basket or a restraining order?”

“Neither,” he says. “We send a clear message.”

I stare at him, willing his words to make sense. “Wait, you and Natasha aren’t still together?”

“What? No, we broke up more than a year ago. How did you not know that?”

“I guess I just assumed she wasn’t around because she was traveling, but that you spoke on the phone or whatever.”

Again, he shakes his head. “No. And I have no desire to engage in a relationship with her. Thus, the need for a stand-in.”

“I am trying very hard not to be dense here, but I truly have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I need another girlfriend. Or someone to play my girlfriend for the holidays. So she’ll understand that we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t know, I suppose I could see if I know anyone looking for a short-term job. I don’t have any acting friends or anything.”

This, for reasons I do not understand, makes him laugh. Like toss-his-head-back-and-guffaws kind of laugh.

“You, Mia. I want you.”

For a minute his words hijack my brain and I nearly crawl into his lap and lick him.

Somewhere. To let him know I want him too.

But no, that’s not what’s actually happening, regardless of how the words came out.

He did not mean that he wants me wants me.

At least not that way. He wants something from me.

“To pretend to be your girlfriend,” I provide for him.

He nods. “Yes. Exactly.”

“What will that entail? Like a dinner or something?”

“No. It’s a weekend at my house in Crescent Bend. Both families are gathering there because I refused to go anywhere this year.”

“Where do y’all normally meet?”

“Vail,” he says.

“With an i ?” I shiver. “Brrr… snow.”

“All snow is cold,” he deadpans.

“Texas ice could take it in a fight.”

I know he’s not originally from Texas. He and Thorne met at some fancy boarding school in England.

But somehow they ended up here in Saddle Creek, Texas.

Well, technically, we’re in Limestone. Thus, the name of the Brewery.

It’s the oldest brewery in the state and nearly went bankrupt a few years ago before Ford bought it and turned things around.

“I didn’t go anywhere last year. Before that, we’ve met all over the place. Vail, as I mentioned. Also, London, Maui, Paris.” He shrugs.

“Your life is very different from mine,” I say.

“Perhaps.” He eyes me for a moment.

“I’ll sign your sister’s contract if you do this for me.”

“You’ll sign the contract with Cactus Girl if I pretend to be your girlfriend for your family Christmas?” I repeat.

He nods. “I’ll give her exclusive rights for five years. You just come stay with me at my lake house, meet my family. It’ll be around three days. Will you do it?”

“Yes,” I say without even considering it. “Ground rules,” I say, holding up a finger. “One: I don’t fake-laugh at dad jokes.”

“Understood.”

“Two: a safe word for when your relatives ask invasive questions.”

“Gingerbread,” he says immediately.

“You had that ready.”

“I’ve met my relatives.”

“What about clothes? I have my work stuff, but I don’t think people who Christmas in Maui and Vail will be all that impressed with my thrifted slacks.”

He reaches into his wallet and pulls out a black AmEx card and hands it to me. “Buy whatever you need.”

“You’re desperate.”

“I’m efficient.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” I stare at his handsome face for a moment, then I shake my head. “I’ll do it, but I don’t think it will work.”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“I think you are grossly overestimating your acting skills.”

“We’ll rehearse,” he says.

“Rehearse what? Smiling?”

“I smile.”

“Internal ones don’t count.”

He rolls his eyes. “No one is going to believe that we’re a couple.”

“I disagree. How many times have people said we bicker like an old married couple?” he asks.

“I don’t think they mean that as a compliment,” I say. “You don’t like me. Everyone knows this.”

“I never said I didn’t like you.”

“You don’t have to say it. Your face says it. Pretty sure that a few minutes ago might have been the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Yet, it is. You rarely smile at me. I am your assistant and you pay me well to do the work. I don’t need you to be my friend.”

“I do like you,” he says. “I wouldn’t work with you if I didn’t. I don’t talk to most people in this company. You know that.”

“Hmmm…”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’m just judging from our history. I don’t think you’ll be able to convince people that we’re a couple. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You let me worry about that part.”

“Okay.”

“You do remember that I’ve actually met your family, though, right? They know I’m your assistant. Natasha, too.”

“Yes, well, and now they know that we’re a couple.”

“You already told them?”

He nods. “I did.”

I want to ask him what they said, but it feels too eager a question. This isn’t real. None of this is real. This is what I can do to ensure my sister gets her contract.

“That was presumptuous of you,” I hold my hand out to him. “But we have a deal.”

He grabs my hand, but instead of shaking it, he clasps it between his two larger hands. “I’ve already signed the contract and spoken to accounting to get the initial payment started.”

I snort laugh, because of course I do. “My sister will never be able to one-up me on the best Christmas gift.”

“Good,” he says.

“I prefer winning.”

“Oh, we’re keeping score?”

“Always.”