Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) (10 page)

N
ow that James
was officially their guest, Quinn threw a warning glance to her dad, who was now chewing his sandwich almost furiously.

It was hard for anyone to miss the older man’s reluctance. Fortunately, Sabrina jumped in. “You’re actually in luck, James. There’s a ton going on today and tomorrow. It’s almost fate that you should get stuck here on the same week as the biggest town party of the year. I bet you’ll hardly even be here at the house at all,” she added, likely for their dad’s benefit.

“Well, if you don’t think it will be too much of an imposition,” he said slowly, returning his gaze to her dad as if waiting for his approval.

Her dad wiped his hands on his napkin and sighed. “We’re happy to have you.”

Not exactly a warm invitation, but it would do.

“Okay then. Thank you and I promise I won’t be any trouble. You’ll hardly even know I’m here. In fact, I believe Sabrina was mentioning earlier that there would be a Roller Derby exhibition game. You did say that was later today, correct?”

Sabrina threw a sudden guilty look Quinn’s way before nodding. “It is. Five this evening followed by the food thing at the beer hall, where all the local restaurants and food vendors bring their favorite specials to sample, then dancing at Crawley’s.” Sabrina glanced at her watch. “Which means I’ve got to go hole up in my old childhood bedroom and try to get my word count in for the day if I’m going to enjoy anything.”

Her mom came to her feet and started clearing the dishes. “Quinn, why don’t you show James his room so he can…” Her mom trailed off, her attention on James’s outfit. “Did you say you had some luggage?”

He cleared his throat. “I do, back at the plane. But considering that, aside from this outfit, most of the attire consists of shorts, sandals, and swim trunks, none of which I believe will be appropriate here, there’s no urgency in having my driver retrieve it until later. In fact, I’ll probably have him take me back into town right now so I can pick up a few things.”

Her mother clucked her tongue. “Don’t you worry about buying a thing. It would be a terrible waste for you to spend your money on a few things you’ll probably never wear again, especially when I have some things of Bill’s that will work nicely.” She looked him over again. “Yes, I think they’ll do fine.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put anyone out,” James started, appearing almost uncomfortable as he glanced over at her dad.

“No, I won’t hear any objections. There are plenty of clothes that I’ve been thinking of donating since, in Bill’s retirement, his waistband has done a little expanding. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

James glanced helplessly over to Quinn, but she only smiled sweetly in return, enjoying his discomfort. “You heard her. No problem at all. Why don’t I show you your room in the meantime.”

Quinn led James down the hallway, stopping briefly to pick up some fresh sheets from the linen closet before continuing on to the spare bedroom.

Right next to her own room.

“Here we are,” she said and looked around, noticing how much of her mom’s sewing and scrapbooking had taken over the place in recent years, with bags and fabric swatches covering almost every surface.

James cleared his throat again. “I really appreciate your mom offering me somewhere to stay but…are you really okay with it? Because if this makes you uncomfortable, I am sure I could find somewhere else to stay.”

She sighed. Of course it would be infinitely easier if he weren’t staying under the same roof, but she also knew that he wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for her, and she couldn’t send him out there to fend for himself. “It’s fine. Besides, at this point you’d only offend my mom if you said no. So for the next twenty-four hours, you’ll be our guest.”

“And what about your father? I might be mistaken, but I don’t think he particularly likes me.”

She thought about that for a moment as she started clearing off the stuff from the bed and stacked it in the closet. “I don’t know how much he dislikes you as much as he dislikes what you represent.”

“Come again?”

“Up until he retired a couple of years ago, my dad worked at the local coal mine for thirty-five years, twenty of those years as the foreman.” She began pulling the bedding off as James went to the other end to assist her. “In this town, there’s always been a kind of odd sentiment, an us, the working class, against the rich mining company. The big bad guys who would prefer to cut a few corners to save the bottom line at the risk of the safety of the men my dad supervised. To him, you represent the big companies, the big businesses always watching out for the bottom line.”

He was silent a moment as he picked up the fitted sheet from the bed and opened it, looking a little lost as he stared at it. “I guess that explains a lot. Not just about him but about you. Is that why you became a labor and employment attorney? To protect people, employees, from the big, greedy hands of the corporations?”

“Here,” she said and took the sheet. “They go on the bottom.”

He grabbed one end, and for a moment, they were silent as they worked together to get the sheet on and she considered his question. She couldn’t deny it. She’d always been well aware of the social and economic difference between those with the power and the money and those without them. “I know, it sounds a little like David and Goliath, everything in black and white, good and evil. But…I wanted to be the voice for those oppressed workers, those who suffer intolerable working conditions because they didn’t really have any choice or know any other solution.”

There was a lot more to it, of course. But that would mean dredging up personal stuff about her mom, about herself. Stuff she wasn’t prepared to go into with him.

“Do you think of me that way? Like I’m just another Neil or Dennis, more interested in the bottom line than the employees?”

He sounded entirely too invested in the question, and she was growing uncomfortable with the intensity of his blue eyes as they studied her.

“I don’t always know with you, to be honest,” she said, smoothing the sheet down and opening the flat sheet. “At times I see glimpses of this pragmatic guy who wants things to be different, who wants to run things differently, better, more fairly. Who sees the value of every member of his team. But I also think you struggle with who you want to be and who you think you have to be to run this business successfully.”

“Fair enough. Since as I seem to recall when we first met, you likened working with me to working with the devil himself. To hear that you’ve perhaps seen a different side of me leaves me hopeful. And somewhat grateful.”

“Grateful?”

He grinned, his whole face lighting up in that way that made it difficult for her to breathe. “For whatever situation you found yourself in that my offer of employment was too tempting to refuse.”

Oh, right.

Quinn stared at him, trying to return his easy smile. Because the reasons for her desperation, her dire financial straits, were something, even now, that felt like she needed to be ashamed of, to hide. Despite what her therapist told her about how the shame, the fear, and the feelings of loss of control over her life that left her feeling so alone were something she should be proud of
overcoming
. And that being honest with others would prevent her from hitting such a low point again.

Nice sentiment, considering that in the past few months of working at Thornhill, two managers had come to her office to discuss their “concerns” over an employee who had mentioned having to take antidepressants or antianxiety medicine. She’d told each manager, of course, that their concerns were baseless and that there was no need to worry merely on the basis of their condition alone, and gave some recommendations for accommodations. But she knew that secretly they all were keeping an eye on the employees, just waiting for a moment where they’d go “postal.”

It was why, other than her friends and her sister, Quinn didn’t talk about her own struggle.

“Okay, here are a few things,” her mom said suddenly from the doorway, saving Quinn from further discussion on the topic. Her mom dropped the armful of clothing to the bed, along with a pair of worn Timberlands.

Her mom turned around and eyed James up and down, her brow furrowed. “Now the pants might be a little on the short side. But with the boots, I don’t think it will be that noticeable.” She picked up a giant oversized parka. “Here. Try this on.”

James cast a helpless look her way, and Quinn couldn’t help but smile as her mom helped him into the green coat. “I bought that for Bill four years ago, and for some reason, he just refused to wear it, but I think it should do nicely for you. I imagine the temperature here is quite a shock from the climes of San Francisco.”

“Actually, it’s not really all that cold,” he tried to say from underneath the poufy coat, and Quinn bit her lip to stop from laughing. Definitely a far cry from his usual
GQ
-inspired duds.

“No, I insist,” her mom said. “I know that you might not realize it now, but the temperature is going to drop quite a bit later tonight, and I’d feel terrible if you came down with something right before you left on your vacation.”

“Well, um, thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome and you be sure to let me know if there’s anything else you need.” Happy with her work, her mom patted Quinn on the shoulder before she headed back out, smiling to herself.

James pulled the coat off and placed it on the pile before throwing himself back on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. “So. What’s the plan for the rest of the afternoon? I’m afraid that my cell service is currently at zero bars, and as far as I can tell, there’s no Wi-Fi in the place. Which leaves me without access to the outside world. So I might as well tag along with you until the big Derby game.”

Oh, Lord. James and her in downtown Eureka? People were going to have a heyday when they saw them.

But it couldn’t be helped.

“All right. But there have got to be some ground rules.”

He raised his brows and waited.

“First, this is a small town. People talk. And I won’t have them gossiping for the next millennium about Quinn Taylor’s playboy boss who swept into town seducing the entire female population. So try to keep the flirting to a minimum.”

“I didn’t realize you think so highly of my prowess that you believe I could seduce every female in the entire town. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” She paused for a moment, trying to keep her train of thought, made more difficult by the fact James looked almost absurd lying there on top of her mom’s pink floral bedspread. Absurd and…incredibly sexy.

Stop it, Quinn. Rules. Get back to the rules.

“Second, as nice as it may be to have your own chauffeured car, there’s no way you’re going to drive around town in that thing. It’s just too…pretentious.”

“And how, pray tell, am I going to get around?”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, so you’ll just have to settle for old Bessie. Finally, rule number three. You know that old saying, whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Well, for the duration of your stay, make that whatever happens in Eureka stays in Eureka. Meaning whatever humiliating thing you might see that in any way involves me, you must promise to never ever mention it again after you leave tomorrow. Never.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding far too interested. “Did you have something in particular in mind?” She gave him her most pointed stare, letting him know she wasn’t kidding on this point. “Okay, got it. It’s all already forgotten.” A sentiment ruined by the slight grin. “Anything else?”

She bit her lip and considered this. “I reserve the right to amend this agreement at any time, but for the time being, just behave.”

“I’ll do my best.”

A
little later
, Quinn pulled old Bessie into a parking space on Main Street and hopped out. At the sidewalk, she turned and waited for James, who was climbing out a little more reluctantly.

She wouldn’t laugh. Not again. Not after finally convincing him that, in the flannel shirt and the brown Timberland boots, he didn’t look like a cross between the Brawny guy and Elmer Fudd.

Only…

He kind of did. Even if in a sexy but nerdy way.

Not helped by that oversized parka that was probably more appropriate for a Siberian Eskimo, but her mom had insisted that he wear it so James didn’t get sick, and he was trying to comply. Which was kind of sweet of him.

“Go ahead. Laugh. I can already see it in your eyes that you want to,” he said.

She bit her lip and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak without doing just that.

“Well, I think it’s safe to lose the coat.” James slid out of the parka and tossed it into the cab before shutting the door.

“It will be our secret,” she said and waited for him to join her before continuing on to the first store.

He reached the door first and stood, holding it open for her. Which gave her a few seconds to appreciate the rugged way the flannel shirt, rolled up around his forearms, hugged every inch it covered, particularly his broad chest and shoulders that seemed to barely be restrained in the fabric. Or how, even dressed like the Brawny guy, James was still a looker, if the two women who were eying him inside the store were any indication.

“Why, Quinn Taylor, who’s your new beau?” asked Maxine—who couldn’t be a day under eighty—from behind the counter.

Quinn was beginning to realize that maybe she should have added a large sign around James’s neck pronouncing him not her boyfriend to head off the inevitable conjecture and comments. Wasn’t gossipmonger Mandy supposed to have spread the news by now she was in town with
her boss
?

“Beau? No, he’s not my beau…he’s actually—”

“Quinn and I work together. I’m James, by the way,” he said, taking Maxine’s hand and then her granddaughter Jessica’s, who looked a little moon-eyed as he did so despite the burgeoning belly of her ninth month of pregnancy.

“I heard from Sabrina that there was a problem with the order, and you wanted to run through a couple other options with us?” she asked, trying to bring everyone back on task.

“Oh, yes. For the anniversary party.” Maxine grabbed a binder that had been on the counter and flipped through it, stopping at a page. “Same thing happened back when your parents got married, if I recall correctly. Your mom had wanted hydrangeas but we couldn’t get them in in time, so it was peonies instead. I’d warned her then that getting married in February, what with the chaos of the carnival, was going to cause some problems. But she’d had her heart set.”

“Really? Hydrangeas?” Maybe this could still be salvaged. “What are the chances that we might be able to pull those off instead by tomorrow?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be getting a shipment in the morning. Let me call my supplier and see what we can arrange.”

With her grandmother in the back making the phone call, Jessica turned her attention to the two of them. “So how’s it going in San Francisco? Your sister mentioned you’re working for some egocentric billionaire playboy who has you working twenty-four seven.”

James immediately turned to look at her.

Crap. Crap. Why had Sabrina mentioned this to anyone?

“Oh, really? Well, you know how Sabrina is. She tends to embellish everything. It’s really not as bad as all that. I am here after all. But tell me, how are you doing? When are you due again?”

That seemed to do the trick as Jessica began reciting some of the details about heartburn and morning sickness for the next few minutes. It was a huge relief when Maxine came out to confirm they could make the substitute without problems, and they were on their way.

The sun had forced its way through the clouds and was beating down warmly over them as they stepped outside. “The next stop actually isn’t far. Why don’t we just walk?”

“I’m in no hurry.”

She turned her face up to the sun, enjoying the warmth. “You know, that thing back there, abut you being an egocentric playboy billionaire? It was just Sabrina being colorful.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take any offense. I am sure that there’s some truth in that statement. I have something of a reputation and I have only myself to blame for that. As my grandfather would tell you.”

She studied him, noting his easy smile as he said this, almost seeming unaffected by the fact his grandfather had a low opinion of him. “You and your grandfather seem to have an interesting relationship.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Well, you don’t seem to be under the impression that he thinks much of you, and to be honest, I don’t know if I can blame you, having heard him talk to you.” He glanced over at her suddenly and she grinned in embarrassment. “I might have heard some of your exchange back on my first day. When he’d warned you about not messing up or being out on your butt?”

“My butt?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Okay, so he might have said ass. Something about people looking for a leader and you had better deliver.”

“I remember.” He stared ahead now, his face a mask almost.

“Well, he must have
some
faith in you despite all that, or why would he have given you the reins of this company that he spent his life building?”

“To prove to himself once and for all that I’m a grade-A failure?”

It bothered her for some reason to hear James feel like the closest relative he had thought so little of him. “I’m sure that’s not true. Granted, having heard him myself, he certainly has a way about him—you know, sending little children screaming in terror the other way…”

That seemed to earn a slight grin as he turned his blue eyes her way, but he didn’t say more, just waited for her to continue whatever she wanted to tell him.

“I really believe that there’s more to it. To him. This is the man who could have let you flit away your summers in Europe with your friends, but he insisted you come home instead. Learn the business. I think that speaks volumes. That he does care, even if he has a hard time showing it.”

“You’re sweet. Naive but sweet. Cyrus did that as much to remind me how little control I had in my own life back then as anything. To remind me who was the boss. Believe me. There’s never been any gleam of pride or love in those eyes when they settle on me.”

Her heart ached thinking about this man as a three-year-old boy, losing his parents, everything he knew, and being sent live with a cold, disapproving grandfather who likely had never shown him the slightest affection. What would that do to a man, a man who, as Quinn was getting to know, certainly was more thoughtful and considerate than he wanted to let on? He cared. Even if he pretended not to.

“Your dad, he was Cyrus’s only child, is that right?” He nodded. “That couldn’t have been easy on him.”

“Well, to hear Cyrus tell it, my father was as much a disappointment as I am.”

“I can’t believe that anyone would be that…spiteful. I have to believe that he cared about your father or he wouldn’t have been so disappointed. And it couldn’t have been easy losing his son, no matter how their relationship was at the time of his death. He might have been afraid to let you in, afraid of hurting again.”

“Cyrus Thornhill isn’t afraid of anything. Least of all some three-year-old boy who suddenly became his responsibility.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I still think that he wants the best for you. That even if he won’t admit it to you or himself, he wants you to succeed. He wants you to love and care for his business just as he did.”

“I already do.”

She wanted to put her hand in his and squeeze, to offer him some comfort as she sensed the pain underneath his words. But she had the sense to realize that doing so would be entirely inappropriate.

“Hey, where are we supposed to be going anyhow?” he asked, stopping suddenly as they’d reached the end of the next block, and the small city park lay before them.

She looked around them, suddenly realizing she’d been so engrossed in their conversation, they’d already passed the shop she’d meant to stop at. “Dang. We passed it.”

She whipped around, pulling her phone out to check the time. There was a missed text.

“Sabrina sent me a text almost twenty minutes ago. Says she’s found a ride to the Derby match and will meet us at the rink.” Quinn noted the time. “We should still hurry, though. You can’t miss the opening of your very first bout.”

“Good idea, considering I don’t think I can feel the tip of my nose anymore.”

She glanced at him and noticed the end was fairly bright, and she laughed. “Okay, Rudolph. Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

For a moment, as they turned, their hands brushed against the other, and even through her leather gloves, the connection was alarming, to say the least. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept her gaze ahead.

He was her boss. It was best to remember that.

* * *

J
ames had
no idea what to expect when he and Quinn pulled up at a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Half the town must have shown up for the game from the looks of the parking lot and the crowds of people scrambling to find seats as close to the front of the oval rink as they could.

It wasn’t even six and already the night was decidedly chillier than before. With some reluctance, he grabbed the parka from the seat and tucked it under his arm before following Quinn inside. This might be one of those times he’d have to forgo suave and cosmopolitan for practical and comfortable.

“There’s Sabrina,” Quinn said and pointed over to where Sabrina was standing and flailing her arms. Sitting next to her was their mom, who also waved when she saw them. No sign of Quinn’s dad and James’s shoulders eased a bit.

They made their way over to the women. The MC’s voice was nearly deafening as he roared the introductions for each player through the microphone.

“Hi,” Sabrina shouted a tad over-exuberantly as they slid onto the second-row bleacher.

He studied the rink, where the most recently called player was doing a turn around the perimeter before sliding back in formation with the team.

You had to love their spirit, especially in thigh-high socks, short black skirts, and red tee shirts with the name
Hellhounds
blazoned across their chests.

“Ladies and gentleman,” continued the MC, a heavyset guy with tattoos up and down his arms and a long grayish beard. “As some of you may know, we have with us tonight a special guest. Not just a former Eureka Hellhounder but also a three-time reigning champion jammer. Let’s put our hands together and give a warm Eureka welcome to our own”—James couldn’t help but notice how the guy was pointing directly at James’s companion, who was muttering something unintelligible under her breath—“Miss Quinn Taylor, or as she was more commonly referred to…Quinn the Ter-Quinn-a-tor!”

Ter-Quinn-a-tor?

James was aware of clapping and whistles that surrounded them and the fact that Quinn refused to meet his gaze, instead shooting a nervous grin and giving a quick wave to the crowd.

Intriguing.

He leaned over, but before he could utter a word, she hissed, “Don’t even think about it. Remember. What happens in Eureka, stays in—”

But before she could finish that sentence, the MC continued his opening. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I am curious to see if the great Ter-Quinn-a-tor still has what it takes to be called a champion. What I’m holding here, folks, is the same jersey that the Ter-Quinn-a-tor once wore to bring our team to the finals, and I think I speak for all of us in saying that we’d like nothing more than to see her get out here on the rink tonight and show us her moves. What do y’all think?”

The applause was thunderous, and it was hard to miss the beginning of a chant as Quinn turned a deep shade of red.

“Come on out here, Quinn.”

She remained frozen in her seat, and he couldn’t resist nudging her with his shoulder. “Looks like you’re wanted, Ter-Quinn-a-tor.”

Quinn seemed to come out of her stupor and leveled a glare at her sister. “I’m going to kill you.”

Sabrina only smiled, not trying to hide her guilt.

Reluctantly, Quinn stood and climbed down the bleachers to meet the MC, appearing ever much like the same prim and polished labor attorney he’d come to know these many months…not this Ter-Quinn-a-tor that the crowd was chanting for.

Quinn leaned into the microphone. “Good evening, everyone. I’m flattered by the welcome. I really am. I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared to do any skating tonight. But I thank you all for your support just the same.” She held her hand up again and waved, trying to hand the microphone back to the guy.

“Well, it just so happens,” the MC bellowed before she took two steps, “that we have a little more than your old jersey waiting in the locker room for you. Thanks to your family, everything you’ll need to get out there on the rink tonight is waiting for you in the locker room. Unless, of course, you’re afraid of a little challenge.”