Page 20 of Single Mom’s Secret Diary (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

Avery

T he whistle sounds, and Charlie skates to the side of the rink with his fellow teammates as the coach goes over the plays they were running. Hockey season starts next weekend, and my son has dialed into it with intensity.

They’re running drills—passing the puck back and forth, shooting goals, and skating sprints.

It’s pretty monotonous for me, and I’m not friends with any of the other hockey moms since they’re all ten years my senior.

So I sit in the middle of the bleachers with a book open on my phone.

I feel like I’m slogging through it, but really, it seems like my brain has been slower the last few weeks.

Even though my taste buds have returned to their normal equilibrium, or a new normal, it’s taking me longer to identify ingredients that came to me instantaneously before.

I sigh and set my phone face down in my lap to watch Charlie wait in line before he takes a shot at goal. It goes in the corner—no goalie, of course—and he pumps his fist before returning to the back of the line.

It’s time for a snack to keep my blood sugar up. I’ve already eaten the croissant my father packed for me, so I venture down to the concessions stand to get a diet cola and a pretzel.

While I’m waiting, a smartly-dressed woman approaches, ordering a lemonade and power posing beside me. She meets my eyes, snaps, and points at me. “You. You’re Avery Caruso, right? Charlie’s mom?”

I nod. “Yeah, I am.”

The woman reaches her hand out to me. “Bobbi DuBois.”

I shake her hand, trying not to be wary, but she doesn’t let me linger in it for long.

“You work for Nguyen Candy Company.”

My shoulders draw back, straightening my spine as I look her over. “I do.”

“I’ve always wanted to work at a candy company, but I imagine I would be eating chocolate until I get sick. I’m sure it gets old after a while.” Bobbi brushes back her straight red hair from her shoulder and gives me a disarming smile.

I smile back. “The trick is to take small bites and not too many a day.”

“But that’s what you do, isn’t it? You taste the chocolate.” She stirs her lemonade with her straw as I take a sip of my soda. The pretzel comes out next, and its warmth is nice in this chilly rink.

“It is. Sorry, I’m going to go back and watch my son. It was nice to meet you.” I take two steps before she’s beside me again, a card extended between two fingers.

“I’d love to take you to lunch and talk about where your skills might be a better fit with a bigger company.” Bobbi shrugs as if the offer is no big deal. “I know a few who’d love to have a powerhouse taster like you on their team.”

I take the card—if just to get past this. I don’t plan on leaving Nguyen Candy Company any time soon. Not with the perks that come with spending so much time in the office with Ezra, Ryder, and Wyatt.

“Thanks.” I point up to my seat to reiterate my plans and sit, watching the boys speed skate back and forth across the rink.

My eyes slip out of focus, and a new daydream takes over my brain.

One that I won’t write down for fear of the guys finding it.

It’s still a sore point, although a small one, given the kind of fantasies they’ve fulfilled from it.

They don’t get all the credit, though. It’s much easier to get things right when you have written instructions from your lover.

But this one doesn’t center on sex. Other parts of my life seem to be missing them. How nice would it be to have one or all three of them here for Charlie’s practice, keeping me company, chatting and teasing and cheering my son on?

I can just imagine Wyatt analyzing every move on the ice, talking to the coach to give him pointers based on physics.

Ryder would flirt and wink at the other moms, engaging them in a way I can never fully muster the energy for.

They’d fawn over him and make me jealous.

And Ezra would hold my hand, speak low about any of the various topics that would slip in and out of our conversation.

He’d also have the full pride of a dad watching Charlie.

The moment those two meet, my biggest, scariest secret will be as clear as day. It’s the reason they’re not here. The reason I can’t invite them, even though I know I can shoot off a text right now and they’d be here because I asked them to be.

Coach blows the whistle again. It’s break time, so I descend the bleachers to offer Charlie a snack, which he takes with a smile. Dad packed him a chocolate croissant with raspberry jam. “Want anything else? I can go to the concession stand.”

My son shakes his head. “Nah. Teddy is going to let me have a slice of his pizza for half my croissant. Is it alright if I go eat with him?”

“Of course. Go have fun, baby.”

He frowns. “I’m not a baby.”

“You’ll always be my baby. Go on. Shoo. Be a grown boy.” I wave him on as he tries to hide his smile with a frown, but when I make an exasperated face at him, he can’t hide it anymore. The full grin with all of his bright white teeth makes me happy in ways I can’t properly put to words.

As I climb back up the bleachers, I spot Bobbi texting on her phone before she lifts her head and smiles at me. It seems genuine, so I walk over and sit. “Know a good place around here to grab a quick lunch?”

Bobbi perks immediately. “I do. Come on. My treat.”

She leads me out the other side of the bleachers to exit around the back of the rink.

We’re comfortably silent on the two-block walk to a Cuban food truck with a small line.

I order Picadillo, fried plantains, and rice pudding, and we sit on a small brick half-wall nearby with our to-go boxes and forks.

After my first bite, the one I close my eyes to taste every little thing added to it, I open to the curious gaze of Bobbi.

“You have to tell me what you taste. I can never get every ingredient in there no matter how hard I try.” Her pale blue eyes are full of wonder, and I’m not sure whether it’s put on for my benefit or not. She’s already mentioned other job opportunities, so I can’t completely trust her intentions.

“Mmm. Chopped beef—chuck roast—they braised it, given its tenderness. Tomatoes, peppers, garlic, and onions…” Honestly, those are a staple in so many cuisines. “This also has cumin and bay leaf—Turkish. Raisins, both gold and red, and capers.”

I take up another spoonful before she comments.

“Wow. You even know the kind of bay leaf from that small taste?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I could tell her more, like the kind of olive oil they use, which type of tomato, their use of elephant garlic rather than the usual kind found in the stores, and how they used both green and red peppers instead of just green.

But I keep my mouth shut about those things. I really don’t need them to show off.

Frankly, only my dad would ask me about those things because he knows I can tell him.

“I bet you can pick out where they sourced each ingredient, too, can’t you?”

I shrug noncommittally.

“That’s an impressive skill. Are they paying you enough at your current job?” Bobbi spoons in her own beans and rice as I nibble on a plantain.

“Enough that I don’t need any more.”

The corner of Bobbi’s mouth quirks. “Everyone could always use more, especially for the kind of project you’re working on. It’s the kind of thing you could live off for the rest of your life if you figure it out.”

I shrug. “Is it?”

“Does your current company plan to compensate you for the breakthrough once you’ve reached it? Any incentives to stay and finish it for them? Some kind of bonus?” That gleam I’ve seen before nearly twinkles with dollar signs.

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing my income with a stranger.”

Bobbi nods, not at all put off by my dismissive and chiding tone. The mom in me can’t help it. I close up my box and take a spoon to the rice pudding, which is mildly sweet and the perfect amount of creamy. It’s almost as good as when my dad makes it.

This woman stares as I taste, and I’m pretty over the inquiries. Standing, I brush my hair back and hug the box against my stomach. “Thanks for lunch, but I should really get back to my son.”

Bobbi stands, too, holding out her hand, and I shake it.

“One last thing before you go. I’ve been given permission to offer you a job at Lindt to work on a similar project for a six-figure salary, plus a seven-figure bonus once you’ve completed it.”

Shock tears through me, my heart beating wildly to get out of my chest and run around in a panic. I blink at her, unmoving and unresponsive. The job offer itself doesn’t come as a surprise, but the money does.

It’s too bad for Bobbi and Lindt that money isn’t my biggest motivator. I laugh softly and shake my head. “I don’t think?—”

Bobbi presses her hand to my arm. She looks more sympathetic and understanding than what I imagined a poacher in her position would. Maybe she thinks she’s got her hooks in me. “Just think about it. You have my card if you change your mind.”

I nod and head back to the rink without her following me. So, she was there for me. How did she know not only what I was working on—granted, in vague terms—but also where I would be and when?

Shaking the adrenaline out, I find my spot in the bleachers to follow Charlie’s movements around the rink and finish my lunch in peace. The rest of practice goes smoothly, and Charlie is hyped when we make it to my car.

He chatters excitedly to Dad during our family dinner, and I find myself finally relaxing after the long, strange day.

Sunday is more of the same. Charlie talks me into bringing him back to the rink to practice his skating moves without the rest of the team there, so we go for the morning and walk around for some window shopping afterward.

By the time Monday comes, I’m ready to get back into my usual routine, but Pam’s waiting for me at my office.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask as I slide off my bag and set it in my chair.

“We need you in the conference room immediately.” Her usually jovial face is serious, and I feel like I did back in school being escorted to the principal’s office for something I didn’t do.

“Is something wrong?” The possibilities swarm around my brain. Someone else has been poisoned. My taste buds have failed me again because of my own brush with the deadly stuff. But Pam just shakes her head and walks on, showing me the way even though I know it.

Opening the door for me, she offers me a sad smile and closes the door once I’ve stepped inside.

Eleven men and two women sit around the table, packing it tight. Ezra sits at the head, Ryder and Wyatt flanking him on either side. My nerves rattle me down to my bones, so I pull on my armor, clasp my hands in front of me, and straighten my spine.

I wait for someone to address me. Sure, it’s a power play, but it’s the only one I have. They’re the ones who’ve bombarded me with their attention.

“Thank you for joining us, Miss Caruso,” Ezra says, and the change in decorum rankles me even more.

“Doesn’t seem like I had much of a choice.” I stand perfectly still. Poised. And I wait some more.

“Won’t you please come in and sit?” He points to an open chair to my left that I didn’t see, too blinded by the thirteen sets of eyes aimed my way.

“No. I think I’ll wait until you tell me exactly what warrants this kind of behavior.” Because suspicion is warring with an underlying guilt I can’t place. I hate situations like this. I hate being on the defensive. I’ve spent too much of my life this way.

Ezra closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as if I’m the exasperating one.

“You’re selling secrets to the competition,” says one of the women. She’s leaned back in a chair that’s too large for her, her dark eyes and hair both shining in the low light of the overhead fluorescents.

I blink, narrowing my eyes at her, then sweep them around to the others waiting there for my response. Anger dumps across my shoulders and expands my chest with the need to scream.

Finally, I drag my gaze back to Ezra sitting at the far end of the table. The CEO. He’s waiting for my response just like the rest of them.

Well, you know what? Fuck him. If he believes that, he’s a goddamned idiot.