Boss Girl (Minnesota Ice #2) Read online

  I fumble for an excuse, but there’s not much to say. I’m supposed to be an athlete. Athletes are supposed to be graceful. Then, there’s me—even though it’s not my fault the second she tossed it, she bent over to retrieve another roll.

  Thankfully, this gets a laugh from her, and instead of throwing the next roll, she walks over and hands me the bag. We both pretend her fingers don’t brush against mine. I pretend I’m not wishing this moment turned into a kiss.

  Before I embarrass us with another attempt to turn things awkward, I spin away from her and start throwing streamers in every direction. A vase clatters to the floor and shatters.

  She clears her throat.

  “What?” I growl. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “Oh, um...” She looks up, and I follow her gaze.

  There are streamers in every direction. X’s, O’s, circles, tangles. It’s a big knot of mess and broken glass.

  “I can fix it,” she says. “Why don’t you, uh... go outside and rake leaves.”

  “Rake?”

  “Or change your clothes?”

  I look down, realizing I’ve got on lounge clothes—long shorts and a t-shirt. Not party material.

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  “What do you think?” Charli whizzes down the staircase, twirling and twirling in her pretty pink dress. “I used the makeup Uncle Steve gave me.”

  “Oh—” I suck in a breath as she stops twirling for long enough to give us a glimpse of her face. “Oh, honey. What did you do?”

  “You look beautiful!” Jocelyn saves the day with a smile that almost manages not to look fake. “You did that all yourself? My, you are a natural.”

  “I know.” Charli curtseys, but the effect is ruined by the makeup. Pounds of it caked across her face. “It’s pretty.”

  I don’t even know what or how she managed it, but she’s got enough junk on her eyelids that she can hardly open them. Her lips are three shades of purple and pink, and there’s a blue line across her cheek. I have no clue what that’s all about.

  “How about we go upstairs to do your hair,” Jocelyn suggests gently, “and I can add a little of my makeup, too?”

  “You have makeup?”

  “It’s very fancy,” Jocelyn says. “But we might have to wash up first before hair. It’s easier to braid that way.”

  I’m pretty much frozen in place. Makeup hasn’t entered the equation yet, and I hadn’t expected it to until Charli was what... twenty-five? When do women start wearing makeup? I don’t want my baby to wear makeup or talk to boys or any of it. But something needs to be done, stat, because she looks like a drugged-up clown.

  “Thank you,” I mouth to Jocelyn over Charli’s head. “I’ll do the streamers.”

  Jocelyn can barely hold back a laugh, but her smile is kind as she takes Charli by the hand and leads her upstairs. The water starts running moments later, and it’s not long after that I hear them laughing and yammering away.

  I climb upstairs after cleaning up the vase, pleasantly surprised to find that I can spy on the pair easily from the staircase. Jocelyn left the door wide open, and together, they’re joking while Charli sits on the edge of the tub wrapped in a robe, and Jocelyn carefully peels back the makeup from her face with a washcloth.

  I’m enamored watching it. I don’t understand it, what’s happening, but it’s some sort of girl bonding—and it’s something Charli’s never had before. Not in any meaningful way. She’s never met one of my dates for more than a few minutes at a time, and usually they’re busy sucking up to her with gifts.

  My heart is full.

  I thought I could be Mr. Mom. I thought I could do it all.

  As much as Marie has been there for Charli all these years, she still goes home at the end of the night. She has a family of her own, kids of her own, and it’s too much to expect her to play mother, or grandmother, to my little girl, too.

  As full as my heart may be, it cracks at the realization that after everything I’ve done, after all the times I’ve watched YouTube videos on braiding hair or played dress up with a crown and jewels on my head, I can never be both a mother and a father.

  And that breaks my heart.

  Chapter 24

  Jocelyn

  I’m almost afraid to admit how much fun I’m having.

  Braiding hair, little dabs of sparkly lip gloss, bright streamers and party favors everywhere—it’s been a long time since I’ve had any excuse to play princess with a little girl. And Charli makes for an excellent partner in crime.

  Once we’ve completed our beauty ritual, it’s time for me to go downstairs and make sure Boxer hasn’t set the rest of the house on fire or shredded the streamers out of frustration. I leave Charli to inspect her French braid in the mirror, pleased to see that her eyes are wide with excitement, her lips plastered in a huge grin.

  “It’s okay?” I ask Charli before I leave. “Are you happy with it?”

  “I love it so much.” Charli’s hands skim over her tightly woven locks. “When my dad tries to braid my hair, he just twists it until it hurts.”

  “Well, your dad does a lot of things great,” I tell her. “We can’t expect him to be perfect.”

  Charli turns to me, her lower lip stuck out. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  The moment blows over, and I’m relieved Charli didn’t catch my blatant admiration of her dad, or the fact that I used the word we. I’m so relieved to have escaped discovery that I barely hear her calling to me.

  “Do you like my dad?” she repeats. She doesn’t turn away from the mirror, but her eyes reflect off of it and meet mine. “Are you going to take him out on a date?”

  I lean against the doorframe, measuring my words. “No, honey, we’re working on business together.”

  “So you’re just my friend? You’re not his friend, right? That’s business. Just mine.”

  “Yes,” I say. “We’re friends.”

  “Okay.” She grins at me. “I’m not going to share you.”

  This time when I leave, she’s fastening a little tiara onto her head and waving in the mirror like Miss Universe. I make my way shakily downstairs, frustrated that I let a newly minted six-year-old rattle my nerves... and my resolve.

  I’d come here meaning to tell Boxer how I felt. How I wanted him to be more than a business acquaintance, more than a friend. How I’d been wrong to push him away the other night.

  But when Charli had cornered me earlier, I’d chickened out. The look on her face had me backtracking in seconds, and I wanted nothing more than to promise her wide blue eyes that I wouldn’t take her father away.

  So I’d said that I wasn’t here for any reason except business, and Boxer had heard. Apparently, he agreed with me, which should be a relief. Even so, it doesn’t feel like it.

  I step onto the first floor, debating pulling him aside to clarify what I’d meant earlier, what he’d overheard in my conversation with Charli. However, he whisks out of the kitchen, a frenzied look on his face. Now is not the time. We’ve got an hour until the party starts, and the place is a disaster. If ever there’s a time to focus on business, it’s now.

  “This isn’t working.” Boxer pokes his head out from the kitchen. “Do you know how this works?”

  I follow him into the kitchen, discovering he’s tried to use the feather boas I’d bought as party favors like streamers. “Why don’t you hang the piñata,” I suggest. “I’ll do the rest.”

  “Thank you,” he groans. “Stupid feathers everywhere.”

  “Hey, everything is going to be okay,” I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have reached out and closed the gap, but it felt natural. Underneath his gruff exterior, he’s tense, and if things were different, I would’ve pulled him in for a hug, a bit of a neck rub or a back massage. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Sorr-ry,” I say, dragging the word out. “What’s going on, then?”

  He turns
to me, apology in his eyes. “The girls are coming in an hour. I have yet to shower. The piñata’s not hung. Do the parents stay? I forgot what Marie said. Am I supposed to do something for the parents? What about Charli—I haven’t seen her in what—an hour? Is she still dressed like a clown?”

  “Slow down,” I tell him, “and relax. Everything is under control. You focus on hanging the piñata and taking a shower. I’ll do the rest.”

  “How do you have time to do the rest before your date?”

  “My what?” I’ve completely forgotten about Lindsay’s plan to set me up with someone. “Oh, crap.”

  A light in his eyes dims, as if he’d been hoping for me to deny it wasn’t a date. And, as much as I want to, at this point it’d just sound fake. I should never have mentioned it in the first place; it just popped out of my mouth. Things have a tendency to do that around Boxer and Charli, things I’d never intended to say in the first place.

  “So, you have a date.” He says it like a statement. “You should get going. Where’s the paperwork? Let me sign it in case you need to leave before I’m out of the shower.”

  “Paperwork?”

  “I thought you needed me to sign something for the endorsement deal.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Today’s not about business.”

  “Not about...” He shakes his head. “Then what the hell is it about?”

  “What’s got you so cranky?” I ask him. “I’m here because I like Charli, and I’m trying to help her have a nice birthday party. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

  I’ve never had an outburst like this around Boxer before, and it leaves both of us struggling for air like fish out of water. With clients, I’m always professional. No matter what. No matter how childish, rude, stupid, or inconsiderate they might act at times, I always control my emotions.

  That was an emotional outburst, and I don’t like that I’ve let myself slip. It came from inside, from a place my brain has no power to control. I can sense Boxer is upset at something beneath the surface, and he’s taking it out on me. If it weren’t for Charli, I’d leave, but she’s who this is all about. Leaving now would only serve to hurt Charli.

  “I’m sorry,” Boxer says, turning away. “Thank you for your help.”

  I debate going after him, but the clock chirps on the hour, reminding me that time is ticking. Instead, I go into the kitchen and begin unwinding the feather boas from the lampshade. Feathers are flying everywhere. I’ll have to sweep before the kids arrive, but I don’t mind; it’s calming.

  Pulling out my phone, I send Lindsay a text: CANCEL DATE.

  Lindsay’s text back is immediate: YAY!!!!!

  It takes me a second to decipher what she means. Then, it hits me. This was all a test.

  I peek out into the living room, but Boxer is nowhere to be seen. Either he’s upstairs with Charli or in the shower, so I use the moment of silence to call my assistant.

  “Was there even a real date?” I hiss into the phone. “Or were you just playing games?”

  “I wasn’t playing games,” Lindsay says, the clatter of a restaurant behind her. “I was just inviting you out for lunch if you were sad after meeting with Boxer. With me.”

  “Let me get this straight. You set me up on a date with yourself?”

  “Sort of,” she says. “But it’s okay, I’m just going to take my order to go.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because! You’re acting a little blind, boss. You like the guy, right?”

  “Not at the moment. He’s annoying.”

  “Right, whatever. I figured that if you had a serious date to look forward to, it’d push you toward a decision. Do you really want to languish in the dating world longer?”

  “As opposed to?”

  “Telling Boxer how you feel! Or, better yet, showing him. Sounds like the attraction is mutual.”

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “He’s acting like he’s annoyed I’m here!”

  “Huh. Any idea why?”

  I shift uncomfortably. “Maybe.”

  “Boss! What’d you do?”

  “He might’ve overheard me telling his daughter that I was here on business only, and had a lunch meeting. He guessed it was a date.”

  “Aha.”

  “So, I ruined it. I came to take two steps forward, and took ten backwards instead.”

  “Don’t be dumb. You’re looking for an excuse to get out of telling him how you feel.”

  “I am not.”

  “Talk to him! It’s a pretty damn easy fix, if you ask me.”

  “You think?”

  “No, I know.”

  “Well, what should I—”

  I’m interrupted by Boxer tearing into the kitchen like the house is collapsing around him. He pulls up in a dead stop upon seeing me on the phone, apologizing before backing slowly out of the room.

  “Wait,” I call to him, holding up a finger. “Sorry, gotta go, Linds.”

  “Duh.”

  I hang up, an amused smile still perched on my face. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted your help to see if the piñata was straight.”

  I follow him to where it’s hung incredibly lopsided from the swing set outside. “It’s perfect,” I tell him. “I think we’re almost ready. I’ll just set up the table, and that won’t take long. Have you seen Charli?”

  “Me?” A small voice squeaks from the top of the staircase. The girl responsible for it bounds down seconds later. “I’m here.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be a birthday party without a present,” I tell her. “Would it?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “Charli,” her dad warns, but I wave him off.

  “Here,” I say, handing her a big envelope. “Go ahead and open it before everyone else gets here.”

  She reads her name on the outside of the card, a tiny finger drawing over the cursive lines. Unceremoniously, she digs into the paper and rips it to shreds, fits of giggles erupting as the card bursts into song as it’s opened.

  “What do you say?” her dad asks. “Cool card, huh?”

  “There’s something here.” Charli glances at her feet as two stiff slips of paper flutter to the ground. “Notes?”

  “Something like that,” I say, holding my breath as she bends over to scoop them up. “I hope you’ll like it.”

  When I’d bought the tickets to Six Flags, it’d been right after I’d botched our lunch date by bringing Barbie along. I’d been trying to win over Boxer’s heart through his daughter, but now I couldn’t care less what he thinks. I just want her to be happy.

  “Dad! Dad! Dad!” She’s a jumping bean, flying toward her father. “Two tickets to Six Flags! Can we go? Today? Now?”

  “What?” He looks exasperated. “After all this work to plan a party, and you would’ve been just as happy if I’d taken you to an amusement park?”

  “Nope,” Charli corrects. “More happy.”

  Boxer face palms his forehead, and I can see the frustration building. “You asked for a party,” he says. “I told you we could go somewhere just the two of us instead, but no... you demanded we throw you a party for all the girls in your class and—”

  “And now you get to do both!” I clap my hands. “Is this better than a Barbie?”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you.” Charli clasps her arms around the back of my knees, and fireworks of happiness bloom through my chest. “This is the best present ever.”

  “I’m so glad,” I say, finding it a little hard to speak over the lump in my throat. “No more Barbies.”

  What is wrong with me? It’s not a particularly emotional gift—it’s a pass to get wired on sugar and scream bloody murder on roller coasters. It has nothing to do with me, and yet, I’m quite pleased with her reaction.

  Boxer, meanwhile, is staring at me. Blatantly staring. When he doesn’t stop, it begins to make me uncomfor
table.

  “What?” I finally ask. Then it hits me. “Oh, shit. I should’ve asked you first. Right? I’m sorry. I totally didn’t think about that—”

  Charli tugs on her dad’s pants. “Dad, she said shit.”

  “I’m sorry!” I clap a hand over my mouth before I can ruin the day further. “I should get going. Let me set up the table and get out of here before I make somebody cry.”

  “Ruin the day?” he says, his voice an echo, the rough edges of his face softening as he tilts his head and speaks quietly. “You haven’t ruined anything. I haven’t seen Charli this happy in a long time.”

  We’re all frozen there, Charli staring at her tickets, Boxer looking into my eyes while I can’t turn away. It’s special, private, and there’s nothing businesslike about it.

  He sways toward me, as if he wants to reach out and touch me, maybe, but before anything happens, the doorbell rings.

  Charli shrieks with excitement. “The party is here!”

  Boxer looks down at his athletic gear. “It’s half an hour before the start time! I haven’t even showered.”

  I spin him around, a hand on either of his shoulders, and push him in the direction of the staircase. “Go. Relax. Take your time. I’ll handle the next thirty minutes.”

  He moves like a robot toward the staircase. I watch him go, admiring the shape of him from behind. Then he jerks to a rigid stop. “You have a date. Really, Joss, you should get going. I’m such an idiot.”

  “It wasn’t a date.” I wave a hand at him. “It was a meeting, and I cancelled it.”

  There’s one extended moment between us, tension blended with hope, a longing to close the distance between us and put to rest this tension once and for all. I have a mind to follow him upstairs, slide into the shower behind him, and let the water wash away our inhibitions...

  Until the moment is shattered as Charli flings the front door open and a second little girl’s voice joins the screeches.

  “Go,” I tell Boxer, hurrying to join Charli and greet the parents. “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter 25

  Jocelyn

  The total is five.