Grumpy Boss Girl (The Lucky Girls Book 5)

  Grumpy Boss

  Girl

  Hazel Parker

  Copyright 2022 by Hazel Parker - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

  All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Upcoming releases

  Chapter 1

  Samantha

  “You’re going to do just fine.” Rachel’s voice came through on the other end, full of reassurance. “There’s no reason to worry. You’re great with kids.”

  “But I have no experience being a nanny,” I countered, my heart pounding as I climbed out of the cab in front of the luxurious Upper East townhouse. There was no doubt Chase Peters was rich—filthy rich.

  “Ella is four years old, Sam,” she laughed. “It’s one little girl—how bad can it be? She’s a sweetheart, I promise. Blake even loves her.”

  “I guess that does say something,” I admitted, letting out a sigh as I hovered outside the steps. “Blake has never been a fan of kids.”

  “He likes kids,” Rachel chided me. “They just never like him—there’s a difference.”

  “Right,” I rolled my eyes, thinking of her ridiculous husband. He might say that he liked kids, but he avoided them like the plague. “Either way, I’m going to let you go since I’m here, albeit ten minutes early,” I grimaced, glancing down at my smartwatch.

  “Hey, being punctual is a good thing. Go on, go knock on his door—and good luck. You got this.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered. “I’ll call you later and let you know how bad I bombed it.”

  “Oh, stop,” Rachel laughed. “See you later.” Hanging up the phone, I shoved it down in my purse, not wanting to appear like one of those people, who were constantly attached to their devices. I didn’t think anyone would want a nanny who was always distracted, which could lead to not paying attention to the kid they were supposed to be watching.

  But maybe I was just overthinking it.

  Ugh.

  I took the steps two at a time, smoothing out my black slacks and red blouse. I had no idea how to dress for a nanny interview, since I had always been a makeup artist, so I erred toward the conservative side—not too dressy, but not overly casual, either. I rang the doorbell and clasped my hands in front of myself, nervously rocking back and forth.

  Everything is going to be just fine.

  Taking a deep breath, I waited—and then continued to wait a little longer. Where was he? Did he not hear the doorbell? I considered ringing the bell again. I had heard it echo out, so I was certain that it worked. Nerves rattling in my chest, I continued to war with myself over the simple decision.

  Maybe I have the wrong date, or maybe he has already found a nanny.

  However, finally, the door swung open, a tall, dark-headed man appearing in the opening. He was handsome, his bright green eyes shockingly beautiful. They stood out in comparison to his olive complexion and dark suit he was wearing.

  “Can I help you?” his deep voice snapped my attention from thoroughly checking the man out.

  “I—I’m Samantha Wilson. I reached out to you about the nanny position you have available,” I managed to choke out the words in a coherent manner, thankfully, though he seemed highly unamused with me as he gave me a once over.

  “Blake Ford’s wife’s friend, right?” he asked, letting out a grunt. “The failed makeup artist.”

  Rude.

  “Something like that,” I answered him, still waiting for him to invite me inside, though I was beginning to think he might not at all. Trying my best to sound friendly despite his initial jab, I kept a smile on my face as he stood there, still apparently unsure about me.

  “Hmm,” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, I guess let’s get this over with.” He turned to head into the house, leaving me standing in the doorway. Awkwardly, I hustled to catch up with him, shutting the door behind me.

  The house was immaculate, decorated in modern urban art with a lot of black and white—and straight lines. It was the opposite of the historical area of the city he lived in, but somehow, he pulled it off, though it made me feel as though I shouldn’t touch anything on the inside.

  “Are you coming?” he snapped from just ahead of me, gesturing for me to hurry up—even though I was certain he had never even turned around to notice.

  “Sorry about that,” I mumbled, rushing to fall in step just behind him as he led us to a sitting room, with more black and white oddities. The couch was black, and the rug was a mixture of grays, whites, and blacks.

  The man must hate color.

  “Have a seat, Samantha,” he motioned to the couch as he took a seat across from me in a large armchair, folding his arms across his chest—like he had already made up his mind about me.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, sitting uncomfortably on the velvet couch. There was no doubt it was worth more than my entire apartment, but thankfully, I was somewhat used to being around this kind of wealth. Having done makeup for plenty of celebrities, I was accustomed to the finer things.

  But that was before my career blew up in my face—all over a misunderstanding.

  “So why would a makeup artist want to be a nanny?” he asked, giving me a speculative look as he tapped his fingers on his bicep.

  “Well, as you mentioned earlier,” I began, trying to keep my voice pleasant. “A mishap ruined my reputation in the high-end world, and I’m having to make a career change.”

  “Ah, right,” he nodded, as if he already knew the story. “You stood up Kiara Montley.”

  “I didn’t actually stand her up,” I instinctually came to my own defense, pushing strands of my blonde hair behind my ear. “Her manager gave me the wrong address, and I went to the wrong place.”

  “You should’ve double-checked the location,” he countered, his voice completely unamused by what I was saying.

  A handsome know-it-all in New York, how unsurprising.

  I gritted my teeth, settling with only a half-hearted smile and a nod. “You’re right, I definitely could’ve handled things better.” If I wasn’t so desperate to have the job, there was no doubt that I would’ve already seen myself out the door. I’d had enough of my mentors come down on me for what happened back out in L.A., and the last thing I needed was for my potential employer to join the chorus of lecturers.

  “Why not choose a simpler job, like oh,” he paused, his eyes raking over me. “A receptionist or something?”

  Is that what I looked like? A receptionist?

  I swallowed the irritation burning in my chest. “I’ve always loved kids, and so when
Rachel Ford mentioned this position, I thought it would be the perfect fresh start for me.”

  “So, are you saying this is a job of opportunity for you? You don’t want to actually be a nanny?” he fired back. His voice was grating my nerves as his green eyes hung onto mine in a way that made me squirm, causing my feminine side to erupt with excitement. It was the most conflicting feeling I had ever felt—and that only made me angrier.

  “I would definitely consider being a nanny outside of just this position,” I answered him, doing my best to hide just how flustered I was feeling. My eyes fluttered to a commotion behind him, landing on a young, dark-headed girl with her eyes peaking over the rails on the stairway behind the armchair.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, waving at me as her cheeks reddened. I couldn’t tell what she was holding, but I was almost certain there was a barbie doll in her other hand as she peeked over at us.

  A smile stretched across my face at the sight. “Hi, Ella,” I greeted, giving her a small wave back, ignoring the surprised look on her father’s face.

  He spun around to face her as her giggles filled the room. “What’re you doing down here, honey? I told you to play in your room until I came and got you.”

  “I just wanted to see her,” Ella replied innocently. “She looks like a Rapunzel,” she added, her eyes lighting up as she looked past him to me. “We can play princesses.”

  “That would be a lot of fun,” I replied to her, not even giving Chase a chance to say anything about it. “I bet you would make a gorgeous princess. Who is your favorite?”

  “Hmm,” she began, her little brows creasing in deep thought as she stepped down from the stairs. “I think Belle is my favorite, but I like them all. My room is decorated for a princess, do you wanna see?”

  “I would—”

  “Not right now, Ella,” Chase cut me off, spinning back around to face me in the chair, his face hardened. “We haven’t finished our interview.”

  “But I love her,” Ella whined, her shoulders dropping dramatically. The barbie’s hair flopped as did it, the doll’s plastic pink hat falling to the ground. Her eyes followed it, and she huffed again as she bent down to pick it up. “This thing never stays on.”

  “I can help you,” I offered, stealing a glance back at Chase, who was clearly irritated by everything I was doing.

  “Please,” Ella’s voice chirped, handing me the doll and the hat. As I was fitting it back on the doll’s head, Chase stood up, digging his phone out from his pocket, its buzz filling the room. He motioned to it and stepped out, his voice muffling as he disappeared.

  “Here you go,” I handed the doll back to Ella, giving her a half-hearted smile. As sweet as the little girl was, I was almost positive I wouldn’t be getting the job. Chase Peters was either the rudest man I had ever met, or he just flat-out didn’t like me—and I wasn’t sure which it was at that moment.

  Maybe both.

  “Thank you,” Ella said sweetly, before grabbing my hand. “Do you think you could come see my room now?”

  “I’m not sure your dad would be very happy about that,” I countered, sighing, my eyes flitting to the direction he had gone. He rivaled being one of the most attractive men I had ever met—but the man was unlikeable as hell.

  “He won’t get mad,” she smiled, pulling at my hand gently. “I just want to show you my princess bed.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, standing to my feet and dropping my purse down on the couch. “But let’s make it fast.”

  Not that it matters, I’m not getting this job anyway.

  “Yay!” Ella squealed, dragging me up the stairs. For being only four years old and rather petite, she was a strong little kid. “It’s just like a real castle.”

  “That sounds exciting,” I replied, truly meaning what I said. It did sound exciting—I would’ve killed for a thing like that at her age. I allowed her to drag me down a hallway until we got to the second door on the left. She dropped my hand and opened the door, revealing a room that was the polar opposite of the rest of the house. The walls were a light pink, decorated with all the princess decorations a little girl could ever need. But despite the dramatic departure from the rest of the house, the bed was the center of attention.

  It was extravagant—beautiful even.

  The bed was two stories, the bottom being the bed, while the top was a balcony, or lookout of sorts; complete with a dramatic curved staircase and slide on the other side. It was totally amazing, and I had never seen anything like it.

  It has to be handmade—and expensive.

  “Do you love it?” Ella beamed, running towards the staircase and bounding up to the top, leaning over the rails. “Let’s read a book up here.”

  “Are you positive I can come up there?” I asked, unsure of the weight capacity.

  “Daddy comes up here all the time,” Ella pointed out, a giggle escaping her lips as she bounced up and down.

  I laughed, thinking of that man—that serious, rude man--climbing the stairs of a princess castle bed to sit with Ella. It seemed nearly impossible to picture it, but when I finally conjured up what the vision might be like…

  It was the funniest thing I had thought of all day.

  And maybe a little cute, too.

  Chapter 2

  Chase

  Where the hell did they go?

  I walked back into the living room, the irritation I was feeling about the prospective nanny already annoying me. She was awkward at best, and way too distracting to have hanging around my house. Never in my life had I seen such beautiful gray eyes, and she had a body to match, but…

  But I was completely unimpressed with her otherwise.

  Rachel and Blake had basically begged me to consider her, and Rachel had talked the woman up something fierce, claiming she was one of the hardest workers she knew. But if that was the case, how in the world had she managed to ruin her own reputation before she ever really got started in the industry?

  Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to hire her.

  Just as I was about to call out to Ella, giggles wafted down the stairs, filling the living room. I let out a sigh and headed up to the second floor, wondering what in the world my daughter was up to. Throughout all the interviews, Ella had stayed extremely distant, even when a few of the candidates made it to a second interview.

  There’s no way Samantha is getting a second interview.

  But the moment I stepped into my daughter’s bedroom, my chest squeezed with a feeling that bothered me—really bothered me.

  “You must be the fairest princess in all the land,” Samantha said, in a very dramatic—and very poor British accent. She had on some sort of makeshift cape and a tiara that was much too small for her head, as she smiled goofily at my daughter.

  Ella giggled, resituating her own crown. “And you are the loveliest queen in the world,” she replied, taking her wand and bopping Samantha on the nose. “Together, we will rule all of the kingdom and eat ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?” Samantha echoed, her voice nearly breaking into laughter as she lost her fake accent for a moment—though she quickly resumed character. “And what kind of ice cream shall we eat?”

  “Bananana splits!” Ella cheered, stumbling over multiple syllables in the most adorable way.

  If only Kacy was here to see this.

  Grief threatened to take hold of the pure moment, and I pushed it away, suddenly realizing with a bit of horror that this was the awkward and a bit strange woman that I had just interviewed for the nanny job.

  The one I was supposed to be sending home.

  I cleared my throat, catching both of their attention. “Miss Wilson, the last I checked, your interview for the position hadn’t concluded.”

  Her face dropped at my words, and she quickly pulled off the cape and crown. “I’m so sorry about that,” she mumbled, before giving Ella a smile. “I had a lot of fun playing with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

  “Daddy,” Ella turned to me. “Aren
’t you gonna just hire her? She’s the best at playing princess,” she added with a whine.

  “I haven’t finished speaking to her about all the other important grown-up things,” I lied, not really having anything more to say. I hadn’t intended to bother with any more of the questions—she was going home. My attention shifted back to Samantha, who was scooting towards the edge of the slide.

  She’s not actually going to…

  And she did. The failed makeup artist and wanna-be nanny slid right down a slide made for small children, bursting into laughter as her butt hit the carpet with a thud. My eyes went straight to the way her shirt was twisted around her chest, suddenly showing off a peek at a black lace bra beneath, filled to the brim.

  Fuck.

  “That was amazing!” Ella jumped to her feet, clapping her hands like the woman had just won an Olympic gold medal. “Daddy, did you see that?” Ella turned back to me, her eyes wide with awe as I ripped my eyes from the wardrobe malfunction.

  “I did see,” I grunted, hardly able to handle the level of unprofessionalism that I was witnessing, yet secretly finding myself amused by it—and drawn to it. This was the most complicated interview I had ever conducted, and I had never wanted a woman gone more than at that moment.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Samantha spoke up, readjusting her shirt. “She just really wanted to show me her room, but I should’ve said no.”

  I nodded, the remorseful expression on her face not entirely unmoving. “That’s fine, but I’d like to complete the interview.”

  “Of course,” she muttered, ducking out of the bedroom. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  Before I could follow her out, Ella slid down the slide herself and popped up. “Why’d you get so mad at her?” she demanded, her hands resting on her hips as she glared up at me. “That wasn’t nice at all, daddy. I really like her.”

  “Honey, I know that you like her, but—”

  “She was very nice to me, and she actually acted like she wanted to play with me,” Ella continued, cutting me off. “I love Sam,” she huffed.