Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,143
my heart. I’m afraid to ask, afraid to know, but more afraid to hold it in.
“How did he look?” I venture. The real question is more like did he seem tortured and sleepless? Beaten to a pulp? Is Magnus Heron miserable without me?
She shrugs. “He sure looked more worn than his fancy photos online, but I’ve never met him. I don’t have much to compare it to.”
“He usually walks around in a three-piece suit looking like a GQ model,” I tell her, shutting my eyes and trying to shield my brain from his perfect image.
“He was wearing jeans and a black sweater with a scarf today. Reminded me of a cowboy who got his butt kicked.” She pauses. “Why are you smiling?”
“I didn’t know I was,” I whisper, pushing a hand over my mouth.
Mag in cowboy jeans sounds like a recipe for searing me alive. But he has to be a tortured soul if he’s strutting around like he’s been in a saloon fight.
Not that it matters.
It’s over. Done. Epilogued.
I need to start acting like a sane person and let the hell go.
“Let’s get some stuff ready for your parents.” I bolt up, shutting my laptop, and grab my overnight bag to start packing.
Who knows if Mag really would barge in at my parents’ house, but he knows where they live thanks to his oh-so-thorough new hire check. And if a butt-kicked cowboy who’s hotness incarnate shows up on Emily Bristol’s doorstep begging to see her only daughter...
She’s going to clap her hands together, make a high-pitched squeal, sell my ass down the river, start planning a wedding, and then write a book about it.
Mom would never get why I can’t play damsel in distress to some rich jagoff. She’d insist he’s just a scolded alpha hero who’s learning how to control his Neanderthal impulses.
Yeah.
Paige’s house is the safer choice, hands down.
“I love Logan Square.” I get out of Paige’s car in her parents’ driveway. “I have no idea why you wanted to rent a place smack in the middle of Chicago.”
I’d only been to this suburb a couple of times before college. I always swore when I landed a grown-up job that this is where I’d live. I’d get a house with an in-law’s apartment so I could bring my parents over when I needed to, whenever I could talk Mom and Dad into leaving their decrepit house.
“Because it’s right in the middle of Chicago,” Paige says. “Hello, convenience.”
“I always forget you’re a bigger partier than me,” I say with a sigh.
“My parents won’t be home for a few hours, so we’ll go up and order some pizza.”
The house is beautiful for an affluent couple, but not beyond extravagant like Mag’s or eccentric like my parents. It’s a two-story brick house with a couple of peaks on the roof and plain pink rose bushes in the front yard.
“I like your parents’ place already,” I tell her.
“You always say that,” she laughs. “Your folks’ is better with the whole Hobbit-vibe.”
“Oh, please. Theirs looks like something out of a Brothers Grimm story.”
It was nasty and leaky until Mag made sure it got fixed.
Paige isn’t joking, though. She has her own living room on the second floor. We sit on a couch and she orders pizza. Being waist-deep in good pie shops is one big strike in Chicago’s favor.
“Schitt’s Creek?” I say, my hand already on the remote.
“That’s like your favorite show.”
“More like a guilty pleasure. It’s kind of like scotch. It almost burns your throat raw going down and yet you still want more.” I laugh, stabbing at the buttons to pick an episode.
She raises a brow. “Wow. Since when are you the scotch connoisseur?”
“I’m not, but Mag is.” It’s out before I realize it.
Oops.
“Did he finally stop texting you?”
“I don’t know. I had to power my phone off to keep from responding.” I pull my phone out and turn it on. I’m not sure why.
I’m not hoping he’s still texting.
Definitely not.
It would be so much easier if he just gave up.
Yet I smile when I see my notifications. “Eleven missed messages.”
“All from him? Damn.” Paige smirks, and I can’t blame her.
“I haven’t looked yet.”
But I am now, scrolling down through several missed texts.
Mom: I’m sending you a new charger tonight for that stupid phone. What if you have an emergency, baby?
It’s nice that she cares. But my warm and fuzzy Mom-loves-me smile turns into a frown when I look further down my screen.