Grumpy Boss Girl (The Lucky Girls Book 5) Page 3

  Chapter 4

  Chase

  I ran my fingers through my hair as I sat in the uncomfortable office chair, my knee bobbing up and down nervously. The clock on the wall said it was nearly 6 pm, prompting me to check my phone—just in case Samantha was having any issues making dinner for Ella for the first time.

  But there was nothing.

  The woman had been working for me for almost a week now, and she never reached out for anything. All of the previous nannies had blown up my phone with questions and updates, sending along pictures of Ella when they took her out and about or did something special with her.

  But not Samantha—the line stayed dead the entire day. I couldn’t decide if that bothered me or relieved me, since it meant she was handling things without my assistance. Ever since the first day, she seemed to skate around seeing me, too—her things always ready to go by the time I walked through the door. It was awkward and a bit unnecessary.

  I’m not that bad.

  Sighing, I distracted myself by peering at all the smiling faces on the walls around me. My heart panged with longing for all the happy families, babies wrapped in their arms. Kacy and I had always planned on having a big family, since we both had a love for kids—but now doing it naturally was impossible.

  Just like finding someone to love again was impossible, too.

  I glanced down at my phone and slid the screen open, before typing out a text to Samantha.

  Might be closer to seven before I get home.

  My thumb hovered over the send button, feeling hesitant about whether or not it was necessary to let her know. With all the previous nannies, I would’ve sent it without thinking, but I couldn’t do anything around Samantha without thinking—and then overthinking.

  It was annoying as fuck.

  “Mr. Peters,” a voice came from behind me, and I locked my phone quickly, leaving the message unsent.

  “Hi, Margie,” I greeted the older woman with a smile as she walked past me to take a seat at the desk.

  She exhaled as she sat down, her face filling with remorse. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”

  My heart sank in my chest, already knowing what she was there to say. “It didn’t take again, did it?”

  “It didn’t,” she clasped her hands on her desk. The graying around her temples stood out against the dark complexion beneath the dim office lighting, and I didn’t know for sure, but based on the photos on her desk with her grown children, she had to be in her fifties. “And we’re not sure why. This specific surrogate has always been extremely successful—we’ve never had an implant not take.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to push away the pure disappointment I was feeling about the whole thing. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Well, we can try for a third time with her, or we could potentially match you up with another surrogate. It’s really up to you at this point,” she added, her voice coming out grimmer than ever.

  “I guess I’ll just have to give it some thought,” I muttered, my eyes falling to my hands, which I was awkwardly wringing in my lap. It had been difficult for me to go this route from the get-go, unsure of how it all worked—especially with the pain of doing it all alone.

  But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t alone.

  “There’s nothing wrong with giving it some time and really thinking about it, Mr. Peters,” Margie spoke up, giving me a half-hearted smile. “Being a single father can be difficult, and while I completely understand your longing to have more children, there’s no reason to rush yourself.”

  “I’m not rushing myself,” I quipped, feeling myself growing defensive. “I’m not getting any younger, and this is the only way for me to grow my family.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile that irritated me. “Maybe you should consider the counseling services we offer. Dr. Woods is really great at helping people in similar situations as yourself.”

  “You mean people whose spouse died, right?” I shot back at her, my voice growing sharper than I intended. “I’ve been to plenty of therapists, which is why I ended up here, ready to grow my family.”

  She nodded, her smile never budging at my sharp words. “I get that, Mr. Peters, and I am so sorry that the second attempt didn’t work. Sometimes things just don’t go the way we expect them to. Like I said, I’m more than happy to help you find another match, or we can simply try again.”

  A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as we cycled back to my two options. “When do I have to tell you something by?”

  “Well, there really isn’t a timeline at this point. Usually after the second failure, we go back to the drawing board and start all over—most often with a new surrogate.” She reached over to the book on her desk, pulling it out. “I’m not sure who we have available at this point—you’d be surprised at how busy we are right now.”

  “Could I find someone outside of here?” I asked, remembering how difficult it had been in the first place to find a match for me through their system.

  “I mean, you can,” she said, her brow creasing behind her dark-rimmed glasses. “But you have to be very careful—it’s not like you should be posting an ad on Craigslist or something. Most of the time, surrogates outside of our agency are women close to the family. It always seems to go much smoother that way. Otherwise, I highly recommend that you stick with us, and let us find you another match.”

  I nodded at her words, trying to come up with anyone I knew that would be willing to take on such a task. There weren’t really any women in my circle who would want to—or need to-- take on such a job as a surrogate.

  And wouldn’t it be awkward?

  “Just think about it all for a couple of weeks,” Margie urged, leaning back in her desk chair. “Like I said, there really is no need to rush this process.”

  “Right,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “I guess I’ll just give you a call when I decide what I’d like to do—but you’re sure it didn’t take?”

  “It didn’t take,” she replied, her voice full of sympathy. “I’m very sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I sighed, standing to my feet, and slinging my bag around my shoulder. “I’ll get back to you with a decision.”

  “That sounds great,” she chimed from behind me. “Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Peters.”

  “You, too,” I called back, though my voice didn’t reflect any pleasantries in the slightest. I headed out of the agency and waved down a cab, more ready than ever to just get home to Ella. I had kept it a secret that I was trying to have more children through a surrogate—mainly because I knew that everyone would react the same way that Margie, the surrogacy agent, had. Everyone wanted me to wait, but I was thirty-one years old. Time felt as though it was slipping away—and the last thing I wanted to do was miss my chance to have a family.

  I slid into the cab, giving my address, before pulling out my phone again. It was only six-thirty, so there was a good chance Ella and Samantha would still be eating dinner when I got home. Of course, I had no idea what they would be doing, actually. Irritation hit me again at the thought of the new nanny, and I rolled my eyes as I leaned back in the seat.

  Why does she bug me so much?

  It’s not like she actually did anything wrong. In fact, she was doing a really great job with Ella—I hadn’t seen my daughter so happy since Kacy passed. She was always jumping with excitement when Samantha showed up in the morning, rushing to give her hugs and drag her off to play. They clearly had a bond that had surpassed all the other nannies in less than a week.

  Maybe that was why she bugged me so much—but then again, I hadn’t been fond of her the moment she had shown up at my door. She was a young twenty-five-year-old who had already somehow managed to bomb a career.

  Though she was good at what she did.

  The makeup job on Ella had been executed extremely well, and my daughter definitely had looked like a princess—too much so. I wasn’t ready for her to grow up and wear makeup like that, which is exactly why I had been
so frustrated by it.

  But it didn’t change the fact it was done well.

  Pulling out my phone, I typed her name into Google, pulling up her social media profiles. Clicking on one of them, I zoomed into her profile picture, my mouth growing dry as I gazed at her, posed in a tight black dress next to Rachel Ford.

  Damn.

  The lowcut dress did her all the favors, her long trim legs shown off in a pair of red stilettos adding the perfect touch. This Samantha Wilson was incredibly sexy, and yet somehow, it only made my annoyance with her increase. She had shown up that morning in another long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, dressed as casual as ever—and she pulled it off better than ever.

  Is there anything she can’t make look good?

  I tensed my jaw, quickly scrolling through her profile, disappointed that most of it was private. However, there was another picture of her standing beside a man who looked exactly the same as her.

  Twin love.

  “Huh,” I grunted. “She has a twin brother.” For some reason, that surprised me, though the closer I looked at the rugged, edgy man standing beside her, the more I put the two together. They looked similar in a lot of ways, and honestly, they were both attractive people, his hair a dark shade of brown with the same eyes as Samantha’s.

  She must be naturally dark-headed.

  “Sir?” the driver called back to me. “We’re at your stop.”

  Shit.

  I closed out the profile and gave him a nod before slipping out of the cab. “Thanks, man,” I said to him, handing him a tip. The wind was sharp as I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the house and wrapped my coat a little tighter. As I bounded up the steps, I felt stupid for creeping on the nanny’s profile—and annoyed that I found myself so intrigued by the woman.

  It wasn’t like I would ever pursue the nanny.

  Even if she was drop dead gorgeous.

  Chapter 5

  Samantha

  “You’re a good chef,” Ella chirped, scooping up another bite of garlic mashed potatoes. “I think you should make dinner a lot more.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a laugh. “I’m trying to get better at it.” I had pulled all of the recipes from Pinterest, and I had been nervous to try them. However, surprisingly, our dinner had come out edible—maybe even good. I took a bite of the roasted chicken and nodded to myself.

  Definitely edible.

  I glanced around the luxurious dining room that we were sitting at, the table and chairs definitely costing more than my entire apartment. The two of us made the entire room seem much vaster, since the table was big enough to set twelve people—and I was certain that they never ate in the room, since I had cleaned off a layer of dust from the top of the wood. There was a second table in the house, sitting right off the kitchen, and that’s where I always served Ella lunch.

  But I had wanted our dinner to be special.

  “Do you think Daddy will be home soon?” Ella asked, stabbing her fork into the pile of vegetables on her plate.

  “Maybe,” I answered her, forking another bit of chicken into my own mouth. While I chewed, I tapped my phone sitting in my lap, lighting up the screen. Other than a missed call from Alex, my twin brother, there were no other notifications.

  “I wish he would hurry up,” she huffed, digging out a hole in her potatoes. “I think he would think this is really yummy.”

  “You think so?” I questioned, not having even considered the fact that Chase would be eating any of the food I made. The thought made me nervous, since he never seemed to be happy with anything I did. I tried to be as low-key as possible around the house, ensuring I left things exactly the way they were when I got there. It was a stressful task, mainly because watching a four-year-old and keeping the entire place spotless was difficult in and of itself.

  But I still made sure I didn’t leave the house with anything out of place.

  “Will you stay and read me a bedtime story?” Ella perked up, batting her eyes at me in the most adorable way.

  “I guess I could—as long as your daddy says it’s okay,” I added quickly, knowing that if Chase showed up before bedtime, I would most definitely not be welcome to stay. I knew he wanted me gone the moment he walked through the door based on the glare he gave me.

  And it was fine. It wasn’t like I wanted to stay there with him, anyway.

  Just as I was shoveling a bite of potatoes into my mouth, the chime when off, echoing through the house.

  Great.

  I let out a sigh, noticing Ella’s eyes light up at the noise. She lived for that noise, and I didn’t blame her; Chase was soft and sweet with her—and was always just as excited to see her as she was him.

  It was adorable.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Ella greeted as he peeked into the dining room, his face contorted in confusion as he looked at the two of us.

  “Hi, honey,” he said to her, his voice coming out a bit strained as he turned to me. “Why are you eating in here?” he demanded in a cold tone.

  Oh, look. Something else I’ve done wrong.

  “I thought we would eat dinner in here to make it special,” I answered him, doing my best to be cheerful and light since Ella was right there beside me. I didn’t want to get snippy in front of her and make her think I didn’t like her dad.

  Even if I did.

  “There’s food for you in the kitchen,” I added before he could make another snide comment about where we were seated.

  “Come eat with us, Daddy,” Ella chimed in, giving him a warm smile. “It’ll be fun—just like a dinner party.”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything more, disappearing from the dining room. I let out a sigh, thankful that he didn’t say anything more. It was apparent he wasn’t in a good mood, and the thought of having to share a meal with the cranky man seemed less than exciting.

  “Don’t eat until Daddy comes back,” Ella waved my fork of chicken away from my mouth. “We can’t start our dinner party until he gets here.”

  I nodded, setting my fork down as I inwardly grimaced. I was hoping to inhale the rest of my food, clean up, and get the hell out of there—so much for that. I patiently waited with Ella as Chase reappeared, carrying a plate in his hands and sitting down across from us.

  “Try it, Daddy,” Ella insisted, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “It’s so good. I think Sam is the best chef in the whole world.”

  He paused, a fork of potatoes suspending midair. “Is that right?” he grunted, before taking a bite.

  I sat on the edge of my seat, anxiously waiting for him to say something—halfway expecting him to spit it back out onto his plate. After all, he could find something wrong with anything I did.

  “What do you think?” Ella demanded, her eyes wide. “It’s the best, isn’t it?”

  “It takes like heavily salted garlic potatoes,” Chase answered her in a short, gruff tone.

  My heart sank at the insult, and then sank a little further when I noticed Ella’s smile fade. Not only was Chase in a bad mood, but it was overflowing in how he spoke to Ella, too. I had never seen him be short with her, ever, and it seemed to surprise Ella as well as she sank back down in her chair.

  She took a bite of her potatoes, looking over at me. “I don’t think they’re salty,” she said to me, her voice coming out a bit sad.

  “Thanks, Ella,” I gave her a reassuring smile, her sweet words making me feel a touch better—though the glare that Chase shot my way instantly killed it.

  Why does he hate me so much?

  My eyes fell back to my plate, and I began to work on finishing my food, debating on whether or not to just take my leftovers home with me instead of force-feeding myself.

  “What about the chicken?” Ella perked up, her focus back on Chase, who had just put a bite into his mouth.

  “It’s fine,” he commented, letting out a short, annoyed sigh. “Just eat your dinner, Ella.”

  Yep, I’m taking it home.

  I pushed back from the table, gra
bbing my plate and glass of water. There was no way I was going to continue to sit with him, and relief washed over me the moment I walked into the kitchen. Grabbing some Tupperware from one of the cabinets, I scraped the rest of my dinner into a container—I could bring back the cleaned one when I returned the following day.

  “Did you have a bad day?” I heard Ella ask Chase as I began to clean up the kitchen, pausing to turn on the dishwater as I listened closely.

  “Something like that,” Chase answered her, his voice coming out more strained than short. He seemed to be loosening up since I had left the room.

  Of course.

  I got right back to cleaning up, moving as quickly as I could. The water running drowned out their conversation, and I let myself get lost in the break from the two of them. Humming to myself, I scrubbed the dishes clean, setting them on a rack as I went, getting lost in my head.

  Maybe Chase is just angry because he had to work late.

  I shrugged my shoulders at my own thought, knowing there was no way I would ever ask him about his life. It’s not like he would actually want to have a conversation with me. Leaning over, I reached into the water, pulling out the last fork left. However, as my back straightened, I bumped into something—someone.

  The scent of his mahogany-based cologne filled my nostrils as my back pressed against his chest. My heart thudded at the contact, my core jolting with excitement, as I realized just how close his body was to mine.

  “Sorry,” he grunted awkwardly, leaning over me to put plates in the sink before quickly stepping away.

  I spun around to look over at him, my cheeks flushed at the moment of accidental touch. “It’s okay,” I mumbled back, my eyes meeting his. He nodded, his face difficult to read, though his eyes had darkened with…lust? The thought caused the excitement to return, but I pushed it away, feeling stupid for my body reacting in that way to him.

  He doesn’t like me.

  I turned back to the dishes, grabbing the plates he had sat in the sink, my hands trembling as I picked them up from the soaping water.

  Get it together—he was just putting dishes in the sink.