Page 26 of Grumpy CEO

Jade

S cott is still working with the home office of Clear Security on something, so Lee and Matt are in the front seats as Rhys and I slide into the Escalade’s plush leather backseat for the trip into Aspen.

I love the beauty of Glenwood Canyon. The highway gently curves, and suddenly the world narrows as towering limestone cliffs rise on either side, their rugged faces streaked with shades of red, tan, and gray. The Colorado River snakes alongside the road, its shimmering waters catching the sunlight as it rushes over smooth rocks. Pines and cottonwoods cling to the canyon walls, their vibrant greens framing the scene with a touch of wild beauty. It’s the kind of drive that showcases the breathtaking majesty of nature.

“I wasn’t the most efficient I’ve ever been, but I was able to talk to my sister this afternoon,” I tell Rhys.

His mouth tilts up in a smile that never fails to make my heart flutter. “Really? How is she doing?”

“She’s great, actually. She told me she was eight weeks pregnant.”

His breath catches. “Is that good news?”

“Yes. She and Bryant have been trying for a while. Though she’s nervous about telling my father.”

“He doesn’t want her to have children?”

“No. Kids are a good thing. But he doesn’t like his female executives having children, so it could cost her her job.”

“As if a woman can’t manage her children and her work?” Rhys asks, confused.

“Pretty much. He’s of that generation.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Rhys says, shaking his head as he stares out the window.

His comment makes me feel better. “I agree.”

“Do you want children?” he asks.

My heartrate spikes. “Not today, but eventually, yes. What about you?”

He nods. “I’d like at least two, I think.”

I can’t believe we’re talking about children, though at least we’re on the same page. But this feels like too much right now. “Alexis would like us to come back for family dinner on a Sunday night sometime,” I say, shifting gears. “Would that be possible? With the security situation, I mean?” I kind of hope he says no, so I can avoid tossing him into the lion’s den.

But after a moment, he nods. “As long as it’s okay with Jim, I think it’s a great idea. I’m sure we could stay under the radar, and I’d love to pick up a few things from home before our trip to Montana.”

The mention of Montana sparks a flutter in my chest. Spending time with his friends feels like a big step.

He catches the flicker of uncertainty in my eyes. “You’re not feeling pressured to join me, are you?” His question is gentle, probing, and it lays bare the depth of his understanding. He always sees the hesitancy I try to mask.

“No, I’m excited to see and get to know everyone,” I assure him, squeezing his hand. I just hope they like me, but surely, Montana will be a better situation than a hotel in the middle of the night after Crystal’s home was broken into.

“Are you nervous about taking me to this gallery opening with you?”

“No, no, it’s not that at all.” I take a deep breath. It’s only fair that I give him some background, so he knows what he’s walking into. “I lived and worked here in Beaver Creek for a while a few years back. My lifestyle was a lot different then. I was using drugs to escape the pressures of my family, and things were bordering on out of control. When I left, I ran out in the middle of the night. My friend Parker and I had been on a bad bender, and I realized I didn’t want to do that anymore. So I called Alexis, and she came and picked me up. I checked into rehab, and I’ve never looked back. I haven’t been in touch with most of these people since then, though I think they know I’ve settled in San Francisco.”

“Wow,” says Rhys. His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t look horrified. His body language remains open, warm. “Are you going to be okay this evening?”

With that, I’m able to relax. Telling Rhys has already made this visit easier. “Yes. With you by my side, I’ll be fine. Some of it may be a little awkward, but I don’t owe them anything, and I do love Parker’s work. She’s so creative. She’s not going to be too impressed that I’m doing commission work now. She always said that was selling out.”

“Why is it selling out?”

“In her eyes, commission work is producing what others want for money, rather than creating what you truly want. Though to make a living, you have to sell that too…”

“Seems to me like you enjoy what you do.” His fingers thread with mine.

The corners of my mouth turn up. “I do.”

“Then who cares what she says?”

Half an hour later, the Escalade sweeps through the streets of Aspen, trees whooshing past the tinted windows like watercolor strokes against the sky. We’re closing in on The Little Nell, Aspen’s only five-star resort on the slopes, and the gallery is tucked in its shadow. I haven’t told Parker we’re coming. She might not even be there, but the surprise is part of the thrill.

When we arrive, we exit the car, Lee a silent sentinel several paces behind us. As we step into the gallery, a wave of warmth replaces the chill of the mountain air. Before I can even begin to take in the canvases and sculptures bathed in soft light, a voice slices through the quiet ambiance.

“Oh my God!”

I whirl around, and there’s Parker, her arms thrown wide as she crashes into me. Her hair smells the same—jasmine and clay—and it’s comforting in its familiarity. Rhys’s fingers are still interlaced with mine, his grip firm, grounding me as Parker’s excitement threatens to spin me away from him.

Parker finally pulls back, her eyes alight with questions that tumble out in a breathless stream. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you tell me? Is this a visit or are you back for good?”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” I interrupt with a laugh, squeezing Rhys’s hand for support. “It’s just a visit.”

With a momentary pause, she inhales deeply, and I take the opportunity to gesture toward Rhys. “Parker, this is Rhys, my boyfriend.” I turn. “Rhys, this is Parker Morgan, an old friend and brilliant artist.”

Parker’s gaze drifts to a shadowed corner of the gallery, her voice dropping. “So, you’re staying in Beaver Creek for a bit? You have to let me come see your work.”

“Well, sure, but actually, I’ve been doing commission work lately. Mostly dishware for high-end restaurants.” Rhys’s hand tightens around mine. I don’t need to look at him to feel his unease. “But I’d love to catch up while I’m here.” The last part comes out half-hearted as I watch Parker’s face change.

“You’re so different now that you’ve sold out,” she says after a moment. “I always wondered what going home to San Francisco would do to you.”

I guess I just need to come out with it. “When I left here before, I stopped in Malibu on my way home and got sober. I’ve been on the straight and narrow ever since.”

Her mouth drops open. “Well, that doesn’t sound very fun.” She crosses her arms and smirks.

I try to laugh that off. “Well, it was the right call for me,” I assure her.

Her eyes flick to Rhys again. I’m sure she’s blaming this all on him. “Great. I’ll call you!” Parker beams and kisses my cheek before she disappears, pulled away by another guest.

I turn to Rhys, searching his face for signs of anger. Instead, I find curiosity.

“I promise I’m sober now, and we’re only here because I wanted to see her art.”

“Of course.” He nods as he squeezes my hand. “Let’s do it.”

We move through the gallery, my pulse settling as the distance between Parker and us grows. The space is filled with art, but it’s a life-size bronze statue of three horses that captures my attention. Their muscles are tense, their forms almost vibrating with a wild energy. “Parker has always had such an amazing talent,” I explain quietly.

Rhys studies the sculpture, then turns back to me. “She’s quite gifted,” he acknowledges.

“Much more than I am,” I say, feeling a familiar wash of insecurity.

He shakes his head, his eyes warm. “Your work is different, Jade. It has elegance, a grace that speaks to hundreds of people every night.”

His words lift me, and I lean in to kiss him, a spark igniting in my chest. “Maybe I should tie you down and take advantage of such a sweet talker.”

He smirks. “No need for ropes,” he whispers. “I’m already yours to take advantage of.”

We kiss, and for a moment the gallery fades into the background, the vibrant art an unimportant haze. Hands still clasped, we meander through the space, and I bump into familiar faces from a life that now feels like it belonged to someone else. They cluster around me like moths to a flame, asking questions about San Francisco.

“It’s wonderful,” I say, matching their enthusiasm with a practiced smile. But inside, I sense the distance I’ve traveled from this world of schmoozing and social climbing, a world that caters to people like Rhys, yet one I no longer fit into.

When we finally slip away from the crowd, we resume our stroll through the gallery, but I soon notice the time. Our dinner reservation looms, and I quicken my pace. “We need to get going,” I tell Rhys, who joins me in striding back toward the door.

But I nearly stumble as my feet protest in these strappy sandals. They’re more torture devices than footwear. Rhys notices my hobble and frowns. “Why do you wear those if they hurt you?” he asks.

“Because they make me look elegant,” I confess, wincing as I take another step.

He stops, pulls me close, and looks down at me as we reach the door. “Jade, you don’t need shoes to make you look elegant. You’re stunning in everything you wear, and when you’re not wearing anything at all.” His voice sends shivers down my spine, despite the pain in my feet.

I can’t help but laugh, warmth in my chest at his words. It’s easy to forget any discomfort when he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. He holds open the door of the gallery, and we resume our walk outside, arm in arm, the two blocks to The Little Nell feeling shorter with every step we take toward a favorite place of mine for dinner.

After a decadent meal, the Escalade once again transports us to Beaver Creek, Aspen’s city lights fading into the rearview. Rhys is a magnetic force beside me, his hand finding mine in the darkness of the vehicle’s interior. My pulse quickens. The warmth of his thumb brushing across my knuckles sends a jolt of electricity up my arm. It’s a simple touch, one that shouldn’t unravel me so, yet I find myself leaning into him, craving more.

Slow down, Jade. Protect your heart, my brain admonishes. All the reminders of my old life have set me on edge this evening, I think. You’re not that person anymore, I remind myself. You’ve got this. And anyway, my fears are futile against the intensity of what I feel for this man.

Rhys’s gentle caress shifts, growing bolder as his hand travels up my arm, grazing the side of my breast with a precision that cannot be accidental. I gasp softly as his fingers find my nipple through the fabric of my top, teasing it into a hard point. Heat flares within me.

“Rhys,” I whisper, a warning or an invitation? I’m not even sure anymore.

His only response is a low chuckle as his other hand slides along the seam of my pants, tracing the line that forms the path to my desire. I squirm under his touch. The thought of commanding our driver to leave us so Rhys can take me here, now, in the backseat, is so potent it nearly tumbles from my lips.

Rhys, ever attuned to my unspoken pleas, leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Tonight,” he murmurs, “is all about you.”

A shiver runs through me. Tonight, he’ll worship my body, and I’ll let him because even though I tell myself to slow down, to guard my heart, I’ve already tumbled headlong into deep feelings for him. He’s earned my trust, my respect.

The car rolls to a stop back at our place, and the moment the engine turns off, Rhys’s hand tightens around mine. He doesn’t wait for Lee or Matt to open the door. Instead, he’s out in an instant, pulling me with him into the garage. My heart hammers as we dart through the silent space, his urgency contagious.

Inside, the soft carpet muffles our steps as we climb the stairs. At the top, he spins me into the bedroom, where moonlight filters through half-closed blinds.

“Jade,” he breathes. His lips find mine, insistent and warm, drawing me into a kiss so deep it anchors me to this moment, to him. I gasp for air when he finally releases me. Feeling dizzy, I clutch his shoulders for balance.

He smiles and unties the knot at my waist, spinning me around as he unwraps me like a gift. My pants pool at my feet, and suddenly, I stand before him, almost entirely bare.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he murmurs, his words wrapping around me as securely as his arms.

As his hands move over me, slow and reverent, I feel something shift. Letting him see me like this, completely bare, isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. I’ve spent so long guarding my heart, but with Rhys, I want to believe it’s safe to let go.