26. Lilly
CHAPTER 26
LILLY
I wake up and refuse to open my eyes. Like this, I can allow myself a second to believe that everything that happened was a dream. Then again, reality is hard to deny. For example, why am I sore in such a telling way? And what’s with the hard masculinity in such close proximity to me—not to mention Bruce’s signature scent?
I sigh. There’s no helping it. I blink open my eyes, and surprise, surprise: I’m coiled around Bruce like a boa constrictor.
No more doubts. It really happened. I slept with my boss-nemesis, and it was beyond amazing.
Actually, it’s not fair to view him as my nemesis anymore. My parents aren’t upset with his bank. If anything, they sounded almost grateful for the deferral and what-not. Beyond that, he’s working on a project that will help so many people, and—nearly as important to me—he genuinely loves Colossus.
Still, he is my boss. That’s undeniable. Then again, it’s not like this is a corporate environment where people might think I’m getting promotions for sleeping with him. I’m the only dog trainer here. And it’s a temporary gig. Once Colossus learns everything that I have to teach, I’m gone.
My heart squeezes painfully. It doesn’t like that idea even a little bit.
Must think of something else. For example, there was something that happened last night that was also not consistent with us being nemeses—Bruce seemed pretty upset at the idea of me getting hurt. Or was he just reluctant to get sued?
No. He’s got enough money to get sued by a million of me.
Okay, so if we’re not nemeses, what are we? A one-night stand? Probably. But, purely hypothetically, could we have more than an employee and boss relationship?
It’s scary how easy that is to imagine. I mean, I don’t trigger his misophonia, which seems huge. And the sex was out of this world—and I could tell he felt that too. We love the same dog and are crazy about The Witcher , even if in different formats. He’s brutally honest, and I hate lies—which works well. I can’t cook even under gunpoint, but he has a chef and likes to cook on top of that. Also?—
The loud ringing of a phone plunges me right back to earth.
Bruce wakes up and reaches for the annoying thing. “Hello?” His tone implies, “This had better be important.”
“Here?” he asks. “Already?”
Hanging up, he curses creatively, then turns to me. “For some unfathomable reason, my parents took a red-eye. They’ve just passed the security gate.”
Hmm… Does that mean now would be a bad time to ask him what last night meant to him? Assuming I can puzzle out what it meant to me first.
Bruce leaps off the bed and rushes to get dressed. I do the same. As I’m pulling on my nightie, it hits me. “I didn’t walk Colossus in the middle of the night,” I say guiltily. “He probably had an accident.”
“No. I walked him,” Bruce says as he buttons his shirt.
“You did?”
He nods. “I happened to wake up to go to the bathroom around three.”
“You should’ve woken me. It’s my job and all.”
He gives me an inscrutable look. “You were sleeping very soundly.”
“You watched me sleep?” And why is that hot instead of creepy?
“Anyway,” he says. “If you had taken him, he might’ve thought you were trying to keep him away from my room and gotten upset again.”
I bite my lip. “That’s pretty plausible.”
“I’m going to go greet my folks,” Bruce says and heads for the door. Over his shoulder, he adds, “You might want to be wearing more by the time you meet them.”
I blush. Wearing more—no shit. I turn to head to my room, but spot Colossus opening his eyes and wagging his tail.
“Hi,” I say to him. “How did you sleep?”
He turns on his back, demanding a belly scratch.
The honor of petting me will cost you a cookie. No, two cookies. Actually, three would be even better.
He follows me to my room and watches with curiosity as I make myself presentable enough to meet Bruce’s whole family. When I’m almost done, I notice Colossus sniffing the leg of my bed suspiciously.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I say sternly and grab him. “Time for your walk.”
As we sneak to the garage, I overhear voices exclaiming their greetings to Bruce. I hurry out before the puppy has an accident. When we’re back, Colossus runs into the house and I follow—to the kitchen, as it turns out.
At the entrance to the kitchen, Colossus stops and cocks his head. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when I hear Bruce say, “No, we’ll talk after breakfast. I have a meeting.”
“Is this about our loud chewing again?” a petulant feminine voice asks, causing the dog to look at me with a confused expression. “I thought that with your income, you’d have fixed your issue… somehow.”
“Your chewing isn’t loud,” Bruce says. “But I still can’t tolerate it.”
“But what about tonight?” The petulant tone increases. “We just flew all this way and?—”
“Theodora, dearest, what’s the point of arguing?” a booming man’s voice chimes in. “You know how Bruce is about Mesopotamia.”
Having heard enough, I pick up Colossus (who seems to be afraid of his grandparents) and waltz in. “I heard the word Mesopotamia,” I say with a smile. “That’s the cradle of civilization, isn’t it?”
Bruce’s eyes crinkle. “Lilly, meet my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Roxford, or as you’d insist on calling them: Ambrose and Theodora.” Turning to his parents, he says, “Lilly is the dog trainer I told you about.”
Merely a dog trainer? Fine. “Pleasure to meet you,” I say and resist the odd urge to curtsy. I’m not sure names like Ambrose and Theodora sound any less formal than Mr. and Mrs. Roxford, but it’s not like we’re at the stage of our relationship where I could give them nicknames such as “A” and “The.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Theodora says and examines me like a pawn shop owner would a cubic zirconia wedding ring. “Though I have to say, you’re smaller than we expected.”
Is that the royal “we?”
“Mother,” Bruce says sternly.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m aware of my fun-sized stature.”
Theodora looks me up and down. “Petite women are very adorable and have so many advantages, like dating men of any height. But?—”
“Seriously, Mom,” Bruce says. “Enough.”
What I want to know is, did she write a dissertation on the vertically challenged?
“We have a right to be concerned,” Theodora states, and despite her use of “we,” Ambrose steps away from her and looks extremely uncomfortable. He clearly doesn’t want to be included in whatever she’s talking about. “With her size,” Theodora continues, “she might have trouble giving birth.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “Giving birth? To what baby?” Is she insane enough to have poked holes in Bruce’s condoms?
“A hypothetical one,” Theodora says.
If you could get pregnant from blushing, I’d pee on a stick right here and now.
“The work I do for your son doesn’t involve such hypotheticals,” I say as evenly as I can. “And, if we’re talking random hypotheticals, the situation you’re describing is not a concern for me. Having a pelvis that is too narrow for childbirth has nothing to do with body size.” When she arches a royal eyebrow, I add, “My cousin is a fertility expert, and she also likes to have unsolicited baby conversations.”
“But”—Theodora darts her son a quick glance—“what if the hypothetical father is a large man?”
I think I’d prefer that Colossus bring one of my sex toys out here—even that would be less embarrassing than this conversation. “Baby size doesn’t work like that,” I say. “It’s not the size when grown, but the size of the father and mother as a baby that matters.”
“That’s even worse,” Theodora says. “My daughter, Angela, was a ten-pound behemoth.”
Ambrose places a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Dear, you’re forgetting that Bruce is a billionaire. He can get her the best medical care in the world, or hire a large-framed surrogate to carry the ginormous baby.” Looking at me guiltily, he adds, “Hypothetically, I mean.”
Theodora actually looks calmer, but it’s unclear if it’s her husband’s words or hand that have done it. My desire to fall through the floor only increases.
“This conversation is over.” Bruce strides over to the fridge and takes out three breakfasts: his own, Colossus’s, and mine. “Here.” He hands me the food. “I believe you have a long training session with Colossus coming up.”
I’m both grateful and annoyed. It’s good to be spared more face time with his parents, but at the same time, is he dismissing me because he hates their assumption that we’re together?
Whatever. I snatch the food from his hands and stomp over to my room.
After our respective meals, I work with Colossus. First, I reinforce some of what he already knows, and then I teach him the “stay” command—which could’ve spared me the earlier kitchen encounter.
After a couple of hours, Colossus decides he’s had enough and plops on his belly to chew a toy as far away from me as the locked room allows.
Fine. I can do my own thing. I pick up The Witcher to read, but my phone rings.
Huh. Like some gossip psychic, it’s Aphrodite calling.
I debate picking up for a moment, then do so, hoping that talking to her will help me make sense of what’s happened.
“Hi,” I say timidly.
“You slut,” Aphrodite exclaims. “You already slept with him?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
Her response is a squeal so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear lest I lose my hearing.
Colossus looks up from his chewing, confused.
That sounded like the squeaks of a Chihuahuan mouse. Are you getting a call from the homeland of my breed?
When she settles down, my cousin demands, “So? How was it?”
I sigh once again. “I’m officially ruined for anyone else.”
There are notes of a stuck pig in Aphrodite’s next squeal, and Colossus gives me another WTF look.
“Tell me everything,” she says once she catches her breath. “ Everything .”
Hesitating for only a moment, I proceed to tell her, taking pauses for squeals from time to time. I mention the kisses (yes, that’s meant to be plural), the trip to the zoo, and as much as I’m comfortable sharing about the big event itself (yes, I did use protection). I finish with the encounter with his parents and then ask, “So… what do you think it means?”
“It means I was right,” she says triumphantly.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with an eyeroll. “What do you think I mean to Bruce?”
She sucks in a breath. “What did he say this morning?”
“He didn’t. His parents came early.”
“Well, then, what do you think?” she says. “Considering that he took you on a date and then stormed your pink fortress.”
I dart a questioning glance at my phone. “What date?”
“The zoo?”
“That was for the dog.” Speaking of, I check on Colossus and find him napping.
“Sure. The dog.” Her air quotes are audible. “Everyone takes Fido to the zoo… with the hot dog trainer. Was the romantic picnic for the dog too?”
Was it? Also, “hot dog trainer” makes it sound like I specialize in dachshunds.
“What about his dick?” she continues. “Was that for the dog?”
“That might’ve just been a guy taking advantage of an opportunity.”
“Oh, come on. A good-looking billionaire? He can crook a finger and have opportunities lined up.”
“So… you think it was a date?” I hate how hopeful I sound.
“For sure. And now that his parents approve of you, I bet he?—”
“Wait, what?”
“His parents,” she says. “Remember how you worried they would never let him date someone like you? Some bullshit about old money not mixing with white trash, which I still claim that we aren’t?”
“I remember that,” I say. “Just not the bit where anything’s changed.”
“Are you crazy?” she says. “Why else would his mother worry about you birthing his babies? And then his dad said, ‘Just throw money at the problem,’ as if you being preggers by their son were a given.”
“Why does that make some warped kind of sense?” I ask, more to myself than to her.
“Because, my dear, you’re going to be Mrs. Roxford,” she says. “Please ask him if he’s got a rich friend. A mere millionaire will be fine. Oh, and ask if I can tag along on your next helicopter ride.”
“Do not tell your mom any of this,” I say firmly. “Else I’m going to get a call from mine. Again.”
“Not any of it?” She sounds like a kid with no gifts on Christmas morning.
“If you do, I’m never telling you anything again… and you can kiss the imaginary helicopter ride goodbye.”
“Fine,” she says grumpily. “But can I come after he confirms it was a date?”
“You’ll come when I say you can,” I state and hang up before she can beg me to change my mind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Colossus sniffing around my bed, so I take him for his walk.
When we get back into the house, I order Colossus to stay.
Nope. Something—most likely the kitchen—is too interesting to resist.
Running after him, I hear voices in the kitchen and fully expect to bump into Ambrose and Theodora again, but that’s not who is there. It’s Angela, Bruce’s sister—and, apparently, a carrier of the dreaded giant baby gene. Not that you can tell she was so big at birth. Currently, she’s thin and small boned, and not that tall, at least compared to the rest of her family. Speaking of tall people, next to Angela is a man with a tan straight out of a bottle and a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes—which are set too close together if you ask me.
“Peanut!” Angela exclaims when she spots the puppy.
“It’s Colossus,” I remind her.
“Ah, right,” she says. “ Colossus , please stay away from Champ. He’s allergic.”
Her boyfriend’s name is Champ? Does he take it like one too?
“Hey,” I say soothingly to Colossus, and when he looks at me, I take out a tiny cookie to emphasize my point. The gambit works. The dog stops before he can come into contact with Champ and runs to me. Good. The last thing we want is for the champ to melt, like the Wicked Witch.
“You go by Lilly, right?” Angela asks me as I grab the puppy.
“Yeah,” I say. “And you?”
“You may call me Angela,” she says, making it sound like the greatest act of charity known to man.
“Nice to meet you, Angela,” I say. “In the flesh this time.”
She nods. “You have very striking eyebrows.”
“Thank you?”
She touches her own, much thinner ones. “Do you put Rogaine on them?”
“No,” I say and resist frowning—because that would make said eyebrows move and thus bring even more attention to them. “Anyway, Colossus and I have a lot of training to do.”
“Wait, before you go…” She turns to Champ. “Can you give us a moment?”
Champ gives me a weird look. “Sure. I’ll go have a smoke.” Turning, he heads out.
Why did he look at me like that? I glance at my reflection in the shiny microwave to make sure I’m not still wearing the Mohawk-like helmet.
Nope. I’m good.
Whatever. With Champ gone, I set Colossus back on the floor—something he clearly needed because he runs to his water bowl and gulps greedily, like he’s been to the desert.
“So what’s up?” I ask Angela as I refill his bowl.
She edges in front of me, blocking my way back to Colossus. “Is something going on between you and my brother?”
Okay, whoa. This family is beyond nosy and blunt. Are the baby questions forthcoming? “Um… how is that any of your business?”
She wrinkles her tiny nose minutely. “My family is my business.”
Huh. With her New York accent, that sounded like a line from a mafia movie.
“Why don’t you ask Bruce?” I venture. And please, please tell me what he says.
She grimaces. “By now, you probably know that my brother can be difficult.”
“Difficult? Bruce? Are we talking about the same man?”
Angela’s smile is genuine—or so I assume. All that Botox makes it tricky to tell. “I have to admit, it would be fun to watch him date someone with such a smart mouth…”
“But?” I prod.
“But the two of you would be a bad idea,” she says, managing to sound equal parts sincere and regretful.
Regardless, my hackles rise. “Oh? And why is that?”
She winces. “I thought it would be obvious.”
“Not to me, it’s not.” Though I’m getting an inkling of where she’s going, and I don’t like it one bit. Even if I thought the same thing not too long ago.
She purses her lips. “When it comes to dating, like should be with like.”
And there it is. If I wanted to maintain some pretense of cordiality, I’d back off now, but I’m way past that point. “Care to explain?”
She glances at the puppy. “Well, to put it in terms you might understand, if the two of you were dogs, Bruce would be one of those show dogs with a pedigree going back to when his breed was first developed. You, on the other hand, would be closer to a mutt.”
If I were a dog, I’d be full-on growling.
“Thanks for not saying I’d also be the runt of my litter,” I retort sarcastically.
“Look, maybe that came out harsh, but?—”
“It came out like something a female dog would say.”
She flushes. “I?—”
“Did you already ask her?” Theodora asks loudly, walking into the room.
She’s in on this as well? So much for Aphrodite’s delusions about this family accepting me.
“Not yet,” Angela says.
Huh. So maybe?—
“I’ll ask her then,” Theodora says and turns to me, her smile eerily reminiscent of her daughter’s. “Will you help?”
“Help with what?”
“The party,” Theodora says.
I draw back—and it’s a miracle I don’t step on poor Colossus. “What party?”
“The obvious one,” Theodora says. “Given today.”
“Um…” It’s doubtful they’d want to celebrate the best sex of my life, but if not that, I’m at a loss.
Theodora frowns while Angela shakes her head and tsk-tsks.
“You seriously don’t know?” Theodora peers at me with Bruce’s blue eyes.
I shake my head.
“What today is?” Angela says pointedly.
When I shrug, Theodora finally takes pity on me. “It’s Bruce’s birthday.”