Boss's Accidental Baby: A Billionaire Small Town Second Chance Romance (Secret Love) Page 5

  “What? It's true! You told us over dinner the other night,” she stated defensively and smiled at Kit. “She's just too cute, isn't she?”

  Kit smirked at me and I looked away. “She is, and I would love to stay for dinner, Mrs. Perry. Thank you so much.”

  “Alright, that's enough ass kissing. Let's start moving things,” Patrick grumbled, and I could picture the annoyance on his face. He probably thought they'd be painting, not doing manual labor – something he'd never enjoyed.

  I peeked over my shoulder and waited until they'd left through the patio door before I turned to my mom.

  “What was that?! You can't say things like that to Kit,” I whisper-yelled.

  She smiled warmly. “And why not, sweetheart? He's always been such a great friend to this family and I distinctly remember a certain little girl following him around quite a bit.”

  “Because we were friends, and he was Patrick's best friend. It isn't like there was another reason I'd follow him around,” I defended quickly, pouring more paint into the container and then dipping my brush into it.

  “Or maybe it's because you've had a crush on him since the second grade?” she teased, giving me the look.

  “Mom! Seriously, you have no idea what you're talking about,” I answered quickly again, and then shushed her when the guys came back into the basement. “So I think we should do a mural or something down here to add a little bit of character. What do you think, Mom?”

  “Only if you paint it,” Patrick chimed in as he and Kit positioned themselves around the love seat.

  “I agree with your brother,” Kit added. “You've always been a little artist.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but was interrupted by my mom.

  “They're right. If you want a mural down here, you're painting it. And it'll be a nice reminder of my baby girl when she gets married and moves away again,” she agreed emotionally.

  How did changing the subject to cover my ass result in more work for me? I wondered as I looked between them and then sighed.

  “Fine! What theme did you have in mind?”

  Mom smiled at me. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Use that creative brain of yours! Just make sure the colors match the new furniture.”

  A few hours later after all the walls had been painted, the furniture had been moved, and Mom had left for the store, Patrick and Kit retired to the living room to play video games. And I sat quietly on the floor in the basement with a pencil and my sketch book, looking for inspiration. How do I complement the basement and honor my parents' sacrifices? They'll be looking at it every day, I pondered, tapping the eraser end of my pencil against my lips.

  I don't know how long I stared at the wall, but when the idea finally popped into my head, I started drawing quickly and everything around me disappeared. The music through my headphones seemed to be guiding my hand as the images popped into my head and then transferred to paper. I'd been so out of it, I didn't notice when Kit came into the room until he tapped my shoulder.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I pulled my headphones off and spun around quickly. “You scared the life out of me! I didn't even feel your footsteps!” I exclaimed as he looked at me apologetically with his hands up.

  “I didn't mean to scare you or anything. Your mom asked me to come down and grab you,” he said, laughing softly as he tilted his head to look at my sketch book. “Looks like you've found some inspiration.”

  I closed my sketch book and stood up. “It's not finished, and I don't want anyone to see it until it's on the wall. So, anything you saw, erase it from your mind…or else! And next time you sneak up on someone, maybe show yourself before you tap them. I swear, my heart is racing like a formula one race car.”

  “Duly noted,” he confirmed, nodding, and then grabbed my arm when I tried to walk past him. “Hey, before we go back up there, I wanted a second to talk to you. Is that alright?”

  “Of course,” I agreed, shifting my weight to one leg.

  He inhaled deeply and then his words came out in a rush. “I wanted you to know that I didn't come over to spend time with Patrick today; I came to see you. And I know you don't want to go out as more than friends, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to spend time with you outside of work. We used to spend time together and I miss it. I'm sorry if it upset you, me showing up out of the blue, but I'm glad I did.”

  I smiled at him warmly, trying not to look smug. “I know you did, and I'm not angry. You caught me off guard, honestly. I have to admit, I did enjoy seeing you outside of work, too. Maybe we can start spending more time together, but you have to stop trying to push for dating. Deal?”

  He tapped his lips with his index finger and then smirked at me deviously. “How about I stop for a few days? I can agree to that much. But like I told you the other day, we will end up together, you're just going to have to accept it.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but he didn't give me a chance as he tapped his finger on the tip of my nose and then walked back up the stairs. It left me speechless and a little bit annoyed as I followed him up.

  8

  Acacia

  Exactly one week after Kit and I argued, he gave me a pros and cons list for our potential relationship. If you could call it that, seeing as the con side only had one item written, and that con belonged to me. He had passed it to me one morning with two words, read it. After that, he dropped it. After that, things with Kit and I were more professional than friendly. Which I appreciated – at first. But as time ticked on and he didn't make any sort of romantic move in my direction, I started to miss it. I even began to worry that he'd lost interest in courting me, until today.

  Kit asked me to come in an hour early to help him set up for a large party of people coming in that day. He told me that he'd pay me time and a half for the hour and that it was strictly professional. So I showed up at seven in the morning, ready to help him out.

  “Good morning, Acacia,” he greeted me, keeping his focus on the prep work before him.

  “Good morning, Kit,” I greeted as I set my bag in the closet and tied an apron around my waist. “What are we prepping?”

  He pointed at the stack of chicken breasts. “We need to bread two bags of breasts. The party organizer took the guest list's order beforehand; I guess they're on a time crunch and want to be out of here by one.”

  I rose an eyebrow. “And they all want chicken?”

  He nodded. “It's some sort of diet they're doing. I won't bore you with the details, mostly because I didn't listen to them. She went on about the diet for a good twenty minutes after giving me the order.”

  “Noted. Is there anything else that will need prepping?” I inquired as I slipped on a pair of gloves and began going through the bag.

  He pointed to the three tickets sitting on the counter and I began reading through them. Twenty-five chicken parmesan, some of which with different kinds of pasta than normal; six orders of our breadsticks; some side salads; and, twenty-five orders of cannolis. It would be quite a bit of work, especially with nearly every order of cannoli being a different flavor.

  “Shouldn't one of us start prepping the cannolis?” I asked him as I whisked more egg wash.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. We can prep that closer to noon.”

  I bit my lip and tried to put my focus on work, but the gnawing feeling in my chest was hard to ignore. It felt as if Kit were slowly slipping away from me, not that I had any right to complain as it had been my own doing. Besides, maybe he was giving me the space I'd asked him to.

  “Do you know what today is?” Kit asked after a while of silence.

  I looked over at him and shook my head with a small smile. “What's today?”

  He smiled warmly. “You've been working here for two months.”

  “Oh, I hadn't even thought about it,” I said and laughed. “It doesn't feel like that much time has passed.”

  Kit chuckled. “Time flies when you're busy. You're my longest-running cook all year, and just as
talented –if not more talented– than my veteran cooks.”

  I beamed at him, my chest swelling to have his approval. “Thank you, but I can always improve. And I promise that in another two months' time you'll be impressed with how much I have.”

  “I don't doubt that,” he mused, reaching around me to grab another chicken breast from the bag. Our forearms made contact and he lingered for a moment before taking his arm back.

  A few minutes later, the restaurant phone started to ring, and Kit excused himself to answer it – tossing his breading-covered gloves in the trash. In his absence I continued to bread chicken, getting through quite a few breasts before he came back. He looked a little irritated, but when our eyes met he smiled softly.

  “Your hair is falling out of its bun,” he told me. “I can fix it for you if you don't mind.”

  I took a step away from the counter. “Sure, thank you.”

  Kit was gentle as he pulled the hair tie from my hair, and his hands were chilly when he guided my head back by my chin. I shivered when he ran his hand through my hair, a full-body roll of comfort washed over me as he touched my hair. And once he'd finished putting it back into a bun, I found myself missing his hands.

  “There, all better,” he stated as he put another set of gloves over his hands.

  I felt the heat in my cheeks as we made eye contact. Strictly professional, Acacia.

  During my break a couple of hours later, I pulled the pros and cons list out of my pocket and read it for the hundredth time. I read it and read it again whenever I found myself starting to give in to the feelings I had for Kit. For all the pros on his list, I couldn't get over the con, unprofessional and potentially hazardous to work relationship. Sure, there were easily fifteen pros on his list, but that singular con spoke so much louder to me. No matter how much I tried to tell myself it would be okay in the end, no matter how much I kicked myself for not jumping at the opportunity to be with Kit – who'd had my heart for so many years. It was too loud to ignore.

  “I thought I'd find you back here.” Kit's voice pulled me out of my head and I quickly pocketed the list.

  I laughed somewhat nervously and stood up. “Yeah, sorry. I was on my way back in; I needed a quick breather.”

  “No need to apologize. I came out here for a smoke break,” he reassured, lighting up a cigarette and smiling. “Now that the party left, there's nobody out there, and Stephan has things covered inside. So will you enjoy the nice weather with me a little bit longer?”

  “Sure,” I agreed, sitting back down.

  We basked in the sunshine for a few moments, enjoying each other's quiet company and the light breeze. I found myself avoiding his gaze, looking at everything around us in an attempt not to let him see how flustered I felt. Even several feet apart, in complete silence, I felt the draw toward him. I felt it in my chest and in the clamminess of my palms as I rubbed them together between my thighs.

  “How has your day been so far?” he asked casually, his voice closer than I'd expected it to be, and when I looked up at him he'd moved closer to me. So close, in fact, that I could smell his cologne as the breeze blew toward us.

  I smiled at him and quickly averted my gaze to the ground where I'd begun nervously tapping the tops of my shoes together. “It's been a pretty good day, given I came in early and all. How has your day been?”

  “Pretty good, honestly. Oh, by the way, the party organizer gave me this piece of paper and a tip for you. She told me that your food was excellent and that they'd be returning in the future on your shifts. You did a great job today,” he praised, handing a folded piece of paper and a stack of cash to me.

  I pocketed the cash and unfolded the paper in excitement. Your food was perfect, young lady, and we would love to have you cook our food again in the future. Take this tip and treat yourself to something nice, on us. -Mrs. Calgary

  I smiled warmly. “Wow, my first compliment and a nice tip?” I asked him in disbelief.

  “It isn't that surprising. You're an amazing cook; you always have been. Even before culinary school.” He looked at me with pride as he spoke, with such an intensity that I had to look away briefly to compose myself.

  I stood up and smiled at him widely. “Well, with that boost in confidence, I'm going to get back to work. We could probably use some more prep before the dinner rush.”

  “I'll come in and help you, give Stephan a chance to take his break,” he informed me, stamping out his cigarette.

  We went inside in silence, put our gloves on, and I couldn't help but feel flustered as he followed me to the walk-in. The door shut behind us, leaving Kit and me alone in a confined space. Even with the chill, I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine as we sifted through the food.

  Remember, remain professional, I reminded myself as the tension building between us grew.

  Instead of dwelling on it, I busied myself trying to reach something on a higher shelf. Even on the very tips of my toes, I was still several inches shy of being able to grab it and huffed in frustration.

  “Need some help?” Kit asked from behind me.

  I squeaked in surprise and backed right into his chest; spinning around quickly, I backed into the metal shelves. He chuckled as I stared up at him through wide eyes and embarrassed cheeks.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were standing behind me. I didn't step on your toes or anything, did I?” I apologized in a jumbled mess.

  Again, he laughed. “No, you didn't. What were you trying to grab? I'll get it for you.”

  I turned around again, careful not to back into him again, and pointed to the container on the top shelf. “I need the onions. Why do we keep them all the way up there anyway?”

  He grabbed the container and handed it to me. “The other cooks aren't quite as short as you are,” he teased, grabbing a few other ingredients.

  I gathered a few things as well and glowered at him as he beamed down at me. “I take offense to that. I'm almost average-sized!”

  “What are you, like five-foot-two?” he chuckled.

  “I'm five-three-and-a-half, thank you very much,” I stated lamely, pouting.

  Kit smirked at me and rolled his eyes playfully.

  “Semantics.”

  “Hey, when you're as short as I am, you have to account for every little inch and half-inch you have!” I defended, shifting the container higher with my knee.

  He noticed this and opened the walk-in door. “C'mon, let's put this stuff down.”

  I struggled to keep a hold of the container as I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey, wait a second. Have drinks with me after work?” I blurted out.

  Kit's smirk returned. “You want to go out for drinks?”

  “As friends! But yes. I would love to,” I told him with a soft smile.

  He nodded in agreement, but that smirk never left his face. “Okay, we'll go after close tonight. But I have to warn you, I have a pretty high tolerance. So don't try and keep up with me tonight.”

  His words sparked the competitive spirit in me and it was my turn to smirk.

  “Is that a challenge?”

  Kit's eyebrows rose and he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Unless you'd like to spend the night in the ER getting your stomach pumped.”

  I laughed. “I did eight years of college, Kit. I can drink with the best of them.”

  That was an absolute lie, but I'll be damned if Kit challenged me and I didn't attempt to best him at his own game.

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Alright, don't say I didn't warn you.”

  9

  Kit

  I can't believe this is finally happening, I thought as I watched Acacia's face light up a few hours later. Her eyes sparkled under the dim lighting as she looked across the table at me with a full, pearly-white smile. We had already had quite a few drinks and I could see the pink in her cheeks, a tell-tale sign that she was getting there.

  “I'm having such a great time with you,” she gushed, stirring her drink with
her straw. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

  I chuckled. “How many times have I asked you to come out for drinks?”

  She pointed at me, narrowing her eyes playfully. “As more than friends, Kit. You know my stance on that, and it still hasn't changed.”

  “I know, I know. And I promise to try and stop asking you…as often.”

  She took a long drink, nearly finishing it, and smiled at me. “Tell me a joke.”

  I rose an eyebrow at her. “You want me to tell you a joke?”

  “Mhm,” she confirmed, her voice going up an octave. “Don't you know girls like it when you make them laugh?”

  I thought about it for a second and then smirked. “Why should you never date someone with OCD?”

  “Why?” she inquired, smiling at me expectantly.

  “Because every time you get turned on, they'll turn you off again.”

  Acacia laughed softly. “Okay, okay. Why should you never date a tennis player?”

  “Why's that?”

  “Because love means nothing to them,” she answered casually.

  I chuckled and snapped my fingers excitedly. “Why did the wizard seductively kiss his date a couple inches below her jawline?”

  She beamed at me, stirring her drink once more. “He was a neck romancer.”

  I rose an eyebrow, impressed. “You've heard that one before?”

  She finished her drink. “No, I've told that one before.”

  I chuckled softly as Emily, the bartender, came over to our table. “How are you two doing? Can I get you another round of drinks?”

  “Well, this one thinks she can keep up with me, so keep 'em coming,” I told her, looking at Acacia wickedly.

  She smiled innocently and then addressed Emily. “Could we also get a pitcher of water, please?”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. And what would you like to drink?” Emily asked us.