Her Grumpy Valentine (Tangled in Temptation #6)

Prologue

I’m sitting at my desk, surrounded by stacks of papers that lay out divorce dramas in great detail. The gray, gloomy view outside my office window screams typical Monday. Just as I’m about to dig into another file of “he said, she said,” the door swings open without so much as a tap.

Nora saunters in like she owns the place, which I guess she sort of does, being my partner and all. She drops into the chair across from me, smirking like she’s got the best damn secret in the world.

“Think you’ll ever learn to knock?” I snark, eyeing her over the rim of my mug. Something looks different about her, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Nope. Raised in a barn, remember?” she retorts, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. That’s it. My twin has a new hairstyle.

“So, you got a reason for interrupting my busy morning?” There isn’t enough coffee in Midnight Falls to help me handle this shit. “Other than showing off your new haircut.”

“I’m glad you noticed.” She throws her now shoulder-length, dirty-blonde locks over her shoulder and smiles at me with a teasing glint in her icy blue eyes. “I was going to warn you about Mom’s latest scheme, but now, I think I’ll just let you find out on your own.”

That gets my attention and I forget all about my twin’s new hairstyle. Mom’s a force of nature, a whirlwind of plans and projects that usually end up costing me sleep and sanity. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that. Spill.”

She grins, savoring every second of my newfound curiosity. “Nah, I kinda like the idea of you suffering in suspense. It’s character-building.”

I groan, raking a hand through my hair. “You’re evil, you know that?”

She winks. “Just part of my charm. Anyway, brother dear, let’s see how you handle a surprise for once. I’ll swing by later with a shovel for you to dig yourself out of whatever mess she’s cooked up.”

With that, she hops up, smooths out her skirt, and heads for the door, leaving me half-amused and half-dreading what fresh hell is brewing in my mother’s mind. I shake my head, diving back into the paperwork with a sigh. It’s going to be one of those days I fucking hate, when life throws me one curveball after another.

I’m buried in the kind of divorce case that could turn the staunchest optimist into a cynic. It’s a sordid tale of betrayal, hidden assets, and petty revenge, all wrapped up with a bow. Just when I’m about to lose myself in the legal chess game, there’s a knock on the door and Margot sticks her head in.

Her keen eyes size me up. “Nash, you might want to quit dodging your mother’s calls,” she announces, cutting right to the chase.

I lean back in my chair, trying for innocence, though I know it’s useless. “Ignoring? Me? Never. Must’ve accidentally left my phone off again.”

My ever-efficient secretary smirks, arms crossed, knowing she’s got me cornered. “Come on, Nash. Pull the other leg, we both know your phone is permanently welded to you.”

I shrug, embracing my grumpiness like a second skin. “I think you’re forgetting who’s the boss here.”

She lets out a laugh. “Oh, I’m not too worried. No one else in this city would tolerate your charming personality for more than a day.”

“This is true,” I fire back, a grin surfacing despite myself. She’s the only one who can talk to me like that and get away with it. Probably because she knows I wouldn’t trade her for all the compliant lackeys in the world.

She shakes her head, a knowing glint in her eye. “Seriously, call your mother back. We both know she’ll eventually track you down if you don’t.”

I rub my chin, knowing she’s right. “Yeah, alright. Thanks for the heads-up. Now get back to work.”

With a mock salute, she slips out and the door clicks softly behind her. I’m left alone again with the chaos spread across my desk.

The moment she disappears, I dig my damn cellphone out of my pocket, feeling a tiny spark of guilt when I see all the missed text messages and missed calls. I take a deep breath, dreading what I’m about to do, but I press call anyway. The phone rings, and I brace myself for the inevitable.

“Finally! I've been trying to reach you for ages!” Her voice blasts through the speaker, a mix of irritation and that trademark maternal sweetness.

“I’ve been busy,” I shoot back, trying to sound nonchalant as I lean back in my chair, battling the urge to rub my temples.

“You’re always busy! Too busy helping people end their marriages to answer your mother’s calls,” she groans a little at the end, laying the guilt trip on thick.

I grind my teeth. I mean, she’s right. “What did you want to talk to me about? I can’t talk long. I’ve got clients ready to tear each other apart.”

“Sweetheart, this is important,” she says, and instantly, my guard goes up. “I want to meet for lunch tomorrow to celebrate your birthday.”

I freeze. Birthday? Tomorrow? I let out a groan, frustrated at myself for letting it slip my mind. “I’m way too busy.” Guilt cuts through me as I remind myself it’s the fucking truth. I need at least one clone of myself, if not two, to handle all the shit stacking up on my desk. “It will have to wait until next week.” Or next year. Right now, I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork. The client I’m currently dealing with has me cursing under my breath more than usual. It’s a sticky mess that leaves me questioning humanity.

There’s a small pause, and I can almost picture her shaking her head. “You’re always too busy.”

“Sorry,” I reply. I can hear her sighing through the call, but I’m too wrapped up in my cases to truly think about it. “The new associate we hired starts next week.” I couldn’t take Nora’s nagging any longer, so I finally agreed to bring a third lawyer into our firm. “Once he’s up and running, I should have more free time.”

“Fine! But you better pick another date soon,” she warns, the challenge evident in her voice.

“Sure. Now, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, hanging up before she can argue any further. I’m a little shocked she didn’t put up more of a fight but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

Hours drift by as I wade through the pile of work. My head pounds as I take a quick glance at the clock, surprised at how quickly the time has passed today. My office door swings open without warning and I glance up, expecting Margot, but it’s my mother who strides in.

“Mother!” I grumble, half in shock, half-amused as she boldly enters my realm. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Why waste my time knocking when you’re just going to tell me to come in anyway?” she quips, her grin matched by the light in her eyes.

“You sound just like your daughter,” I respond dryly, though I can’t suppress a smirk.

She waltzes over, unabashed. “Good! I taught her well,” she says, unapologetically proud, eyes flashing as she reaches into an immaculate designer handbag.

“Since you’re too busy to spend time with your dear mother, I had to bring your birthday present to you.” She pulls out an envelope with a flourish.

“You didn’t need to buy me a present.” I sigh, accepting the envelope.

“Open it!” she insists, excitement dancing in her voice.

I tear into it, my curiosity piqued. Inside is a glossy gold gift certificate. “A massage?” I say, raising an eyebrow. A fucking massage? I don’t have time to eat meals most days and she wants me to spend an hour getting my back rubbed?

“Exactly! You’re always so tense, Nash. You need to relax before you snap in half,” she declares with a knowing look.

“Letting a stranger knead my back into dough is your idea of relaxation?” I scoff as excuses to refuse jumble in my mind.

“You’ll love it,” she insists, and the look of determination on her face tells me I’m never getting out of this. “I’ve been getting massages from Leni every week for the last few months, and they are the bomb dot com.”

Motherfucker. I’m in family hell.