Page 27 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

Kieran takes one look at me when I stride into Cascade and immediately knows. The man has some kind of superpower when it comes to reading me, and right now I might as well have "I GOT RAILED BY KASEN JAMES" tattooed on my forehead.

"Well, well, well," he says, falling into step beside me as I head for my office. "Someone had a good night."

"Don't start." I speed up, which is pointless because his legs are longer and he's not wearing heels.

"Start what? Pointing out that you're all flushed? Or mentioning the strategic scarf placement? In summer?" He gestures to the silk scarf I grabbed at the last second in desperation. "Very pretty. Very 'hiding a hickey.'"

"I'm cold."

"You're pregnant and last week you bought that.” He gestures to the extra portable AC unit I set up in the corner in my office when I was sweating through my clothes. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter."

"Did you have a point, or are you just here to be annoying?" I toss my bag onto my desk.

"Just curious what finally broke the dam." Kieran perches on the edge of my desk, arms crossed over his Tom Ford shirt. That knowing smirk makes me want to throw something at him. "Was it the midnight ice cream runs? The foot rubs? Or did he finally just bend you over something and?—"

"Finish that sentence and you're fired."

"No, I'm not." He examines his watch. "You'd be lost without me and we both know it."

Damn him for being right. "Don't you have actual work to do?"

"This is more fun." He studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. "But seriously, you look good. Relaxed. I haven't seen you this unbuttoned in years."

"I'm plenty buttoned." But even I can hear the lie. I'm the opposite of buttoned. I'm unbuttoned, unzipped, completely undone by Kasen James and his stupid perfect… everything.

"Sure." He's not buying it for a second. "Well, whatever happened, it’s about time. I approve.”

I glare at him. "I didn't ask for your approval."

"Well, you’re getting it anyway." He stands, smoothing his jacket. "Henderson report's on your desk. They've agreed to expanded territory but want to haggle over tap handles."

"Of course they do." I flip open the folder, grateful for the subject change. "Set up a meeting for next week."

"Already done." He heads for the door but pauses. "Oh, and Navy called. She wants to know if you're coming to dinner at Clover’s tonight."

My stomach drops. “What dinner?”

Kieran shrugs. "Apparently Clover invited you and Kasen and she wanted to make sure you're coming."

Great. That's exactly what I need—a family dinner with Kasen's sister, who still has no idea I'm carrying her brother's baby. Or that we're married. Or that we spent last night breaking furniture with our athletic fucking.

This should be fun.

"Tell her I'll call her back," I say, already dreading the conversation.

"Will do, boss." Kieran gives me an obnoxious salute. "Also, your eleven o'clock canceled, so you've got the morning clear to decompress from whatever cardio you clearly got up to last night."

"Get out."

"Going." But he stops at the door. "By the way, you might want to tell to the staff about the baby soon. That shirt's not hiding what you think it's hiding, and people are starting to notice."

I glance down at my flowy top. From my angle, I can see exactly how much it's not concealing. Fuck. "Noted."

Once he's gone, I slump in my chair. My hand automatically goes to my belly.

He's right. I can't keep pretending this isn't happening.

People whisper when I walk through the warehouse now.

Clients do double-takes in meetings, trying to figure out if I've just been hitting the beer too hard or if there's something else going on.

It's only a matter of time before someone like Miller finds out, and I'd rather control the narrative than let rumors run wild.

And once Miller finds out...

That thought sends ice through my veins. Nolan Miller's been circling Portland's craft scene like a vulture for months, and a pregnant CEO is exactly the kind of "weakness" he'd try to exploit.

I'm pulled from this spiral of paranoia by a text message notification.

Kasen: How's your morning going?

I stare at the screen, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

Me: Fine until Kieran started interrogating me about my "glow." Thanks for that, by the way.

Kasen: I will never apologize for making you come. But next time I’ll make sure to relax you so much you don’t care what he says.

Next time. The promise in those two words sends a shiver down my spine.

Me: There won't be a next time if you keep leaving evidence.

Kasen: Liar.

Me: I have actual work to do, you know

Kasen: So do I. Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about this morning. And last night. And how you taste.

My thighs clench involuntarily. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, not some horny teenager sexting in class.

Kasen: What time are you done today? Clover and Banks want us to come over for dinner.

Right. The family dinner of doom.

Me: I know. Navy called before I got in this morning. I don't think I can make it.

Kasen: Yes you can. It's just dinner.

Kasen: Please?

That "please" does something to me. In all the time I've known Kasen James, I don't think I've ever heard him say that word.

Me: Now who’s begging?

Kasen: Pink.

Me: Fine. But YOU'RE telling her everything.

Kasen: Deal. Pick you up at 6?

Me: I can drive myself.

Kasen: I'm picking you up. It's not a negotiation.

I should argue. Should assert my independence. Remind him that just because we're fucking doesn't mean he gets to dictate my life.

I do none of those things.

Me: Fine.

I set my phone down, wondering when exactly I started giving in to Kasen James, of all people. When his stubbornness stopped being infuriating and started being... charming? God help me.

The next hour disappears in a blur of emails and reports. I'm deep in quarterly projections when a knock on my glass door pulls me back to reality.

Kasen stands there holding a brown bag and a pint of ice cream, looking like every bad decision I've ever wanted to make. Dark jeans, a Timber Brewing hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to show off those drool worthy inked forearms, that stupid beanie that somehow works on him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he steps into my office, closing the door behind him.

"Bringing you lunch." He sets his offerings on my desk. "Figured you'd forget to eat."

I eye the bag suspiciously. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

"Sure you are." At this point, I think we both know I’m only fighting this because it’s a habit, not because I actually mind him doing things for me.

In fact, I like it.

Don’t tell him I said that.

“But would it be the grilled chicken salad Reed recommended? Or the candy bar I know you've got stashed in your top drawer?"

Fuck. How does he know about my emergency Snickers?

"Stalker."

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"You know, it’s really annoying when you’re right.” He just smirks and nods toward the bag. “Thank you." I peek inside and, sure enough, there's a container of exactly what he described. "And the ice cream?"

His lips quirk up in a half-smile that does annoying things to my insides. "Phish Food. You mentioned wanting some last night before we..." He trails off, his eyes darkening at the memory. "Got distracted."

Distracted. That’s one way to put it.

"You didn't have to do this."

"I know. I thought it might make up for the healthy lunch." He sinks into the chair in front of my desk, and the intensity in his eyes makes me forget about the glass walls and our potential audience. "And I wanted to see you."

The simple admission knocks me off balance. It shouldn't. Not after everything we've done. Not after how intimate we've been. But somehow, this casual confession of wanting to see me in the middle of a workday feels more revealing than anything that's happened between us.

"You saw me this morning," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Pretty thoroughly."

"Not enough."

I don't know what to do with this version of Kasen. The one who brings me lunch and ice cream. The one who admits to missing me after a few hours apart. The one who looks at me like I'm something he can’t get enough of instead of someone he hates.

"People are going to talk," I say, nodding toward the warehouse floor visible from here where several employees are pretending to work while obviously staring at us.

He shrugs. "Let them."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have employees questioning your judgment."

"Anyone who questions your judgment because of this," he gestures between us, "is an idiot. You're still the same badass who built this company. Being pregnant doesn't change that."

"It's not just about the baby. It's about this." I gesture between us. "Whatever this is."

"What is it?" he asks, his blue eyes intent on mine.

I open my mouth, then close it again. What is it? I don't have an answer. Not one I'm ready to say out loud, anyway.

"Complicated," I finally say.

He nods slowly. "Fair enough. But you’re still my wife."

The tension between us shifts, that electrical charge that never seems to fully dissipate whenever we're in the same room. His eyes drop to my lips, and I know he's thinking about kissing me. Here. In my office. With everyone watching.

"Don't even think about it," I warn.

His smile is slow and dangerous. "Too late."

Before I can respond, a knock on the door interrupts us. Kieran pokes his head in, his eyebrows shooting up when he spots Kasen.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, not sounding sorry at all. "But Nolan Miller just showed up without an appointment. He says it’s urgent."

Every muscle in Kasen's body goes rigid. "Tell him I'm in a meeting."

"I did. He said he'll wait." Kieran glances at Kasen. "He also said it involves both Cascade and Timber."

Kasen's expression hardens. "Send him in."

"Kasen—"

"If he's here to talk about both our companies, we should both hear it." His voice leaves no room for argument.