“I do believe, Miss Hamilton, that I am kicking your ass,” Roman announced as he swaggered back to his chair, looking equal parts hot and ridiculous in his bright red-and-blue bowling shoes.
I guessed I’d never noticed his feet before, my attention usually stolen away by other parts of his anatomy. His mesmerizing eyes or those broad shoulders of his and how his arms must feel wrapped around you. The way he raked his hands through his hair when he was frustrated, which was a lot. It would give him this permanent unruly hairdo that would look laughable or foolish on most men of his status.
But on Roman?
Nothing but pure sex on a stick.
Not that I should notice.
No…
Definitely not.
Because he was my boss.
My sexy, sexy boss.
“Cara? Are you still in there? Did the salt from the pretzel do you in? It was the nacho cheese, wasn’t it? I told you not to eat it,” he said jokingly.
I rolled my eyes, rising from my seat next to him to take my turn.
In the few hours since we’d arrived in Los Angeles, he’d changed completely.
His hair was still unruly and unkempt but not from the overwhelming duties of the day. Today, he seemed stress-free and happy.
It was an entirely different side of him.
One that I was finding hard to resist.
“I’m fine,” I replied with a small smirk tugging at my lips. “And that cheese was delicious. You totally missed out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to kicking your ass again.”
“Again?” He looked at me with a dubious grin. “I don’t recall that ass ever actually kicking mine.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He stood swiftly, and our bodies nearly collided from the close proximity. I could feel the heat from him rising off his chest, like it was reaching out for me, asking me to lean in.
And I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Want to bet?” I replied. Swallowing a gulp of air, I took a step back, instantly feeling the loss of heat.
“What kind of bet?” he asked with a hooded expression that made my stomach flip-flop.
“I don’t know,” I backpedaled, suddenly feeling like I’d just stepped into uncharted waters and I was about to be eaten alive.
“You can’t offer up a bet and back out, Cara,” he teased.
“Okay, fine,” I replied, squaring my shoulders. Turning, I bent down and grabbled the polished pink ball I’d claimed as my own for the night and let the solid weight of it settle into my grasp. “I win, you… have to wear those shoes to work for a week.”
He silently groaned, looking down at the funky bowling shoes that really did make his size-thirteen feet look insanely large.
That only reminded me of the comment he’d thrown out about men with large feet.
Don’t look down, Cara. Don’t look down, I chided myself.
But like most things lately that concerned Roman… I really, really wanted to.
“That’s cruel, Cara,” he replied, shaking his head, as his hands casually went into his pockets. He took a step forward, so we were nearly touching again. “But, since you’re not going to win, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Oh, really?”
He smiled that wolfish grin I was becoming so fond of.
“So, what will you have me do?” I asked.
His eyes went wide. I feigned innocence, tilting my head to the side, like a child.
“What?”
“If I lose.” I laughed, loving the fact that I’d made him stumble.
“Right,” he answered, clearing his throat. His eyes traveled from my mouth and slowly up to my eyes. “If you lose, which you will… I want you to show up to work on Monday, wearing that horrible bargain-brand sweater dress or whatever weird frock makes you happy.”
Confusion instantly hit me.
“But I love that sweater dress,” I said, not understanding his rationale at all.
“I know.” He smiled.
I turned away from him, taking my time to line up my shot, as my mind went over the conversation a hundred times in a matter of seconds.
Why would he do that?
As I let go of the ball, watching it fall effortlessly from my fingers, heading for the center, it dawned on me.
“Tyler,” I said suddenly, spinning on my heels.
“Sorry?”
“The bet. You’re doing it to get back at Tyler,” I said as the puzzle pieces all began fitting together.
“And why would I do that?” he asked, his eyes set dead ahead.
“The clothes,” I answered. “He bought all those clothes for me, and I went on and on about them to you. You want me to purposely hurt him.”
His jaw twitched before his gaze met mine.
“I want you to be comfortable in your own skin, Cara,” he said with ferocity. “And, if that means wearing some old, frumpy sweater dress or a pair of jeans, then by all means, wear it. No man, including Tyler, should ever dictate what you put on your body. So, no, I didn’t do this to hurt him. I’m doing this to empower you. Wear your clothes, or don’t. Just be happy—with your own self. But, in the process, if I teach that jackass you live with a lesson, then so be it.”
Then, he pointed to the scoreboard above us. “Also, you just made a strike,” he added.
I looked above and saw that he was indeed correct. In my mind haze, I’d somehow knocked down all ten pins and scored my first strike of the game.
Go me.
I sat in silence and watched as Roman lifted the shiny black ball and stalked up to the lane. If I hadn’t seen his expression when we walked into this place, I wouldn’t have believed he’d never been bowling before. He’d looked around like he was stepping foot onto another planet for the first time.
A planet filled with giant green aliens and snow-cone machines.
It was in that moment that I’d finally realized just how different our lives must have been while growing up. Mine was drive-in movies and trips to the city for school clothes in the summer. His must have been private tutors and trips to Europe.
Yet here we both were, bowling.
Together.
The muscles in his back and shoulders flexed as he bent down, angling his shot just right. And then he struck. Like a predator.
In high school, Tyler and I had gone bowling more times than I could count, laughing over sodas and pretzels with our friends.
I’d never once looked at him throwing a ball down the lane the way I looked at Roman.
And that thought alone made me nervous.
“You know, Tyler isn’t a bad guy,” I said, unable to meet Roman’s gaze as he turned around, waiting for his ball to return so that he could bowl his second turn.
He’d knocked down all but two pins. Not bad for a beginner.
A beginner who was currently beating me by twenty points.
“I never said he was.”
“He’s nice and sweet and good. And he’s been incredibly patient with me while I’ve been going through this process of settling in.”
“I’m sure he has been,” he answered passively.
“Then why don’t you like him?”
“Why do you seem to care? I am, after all, just your boss,” he pointed out, sitting down next to me rather than taking his turn.
He’d turned the chair and straddled it, so rather than sitting side by side, he was looking at me head-on. I could see every random color of green that lived in the depths of his eyes—from the darkest hints of clover to the vibrant tones of moss and sea-foam. He seemed to capture my soul in that solitary glance.
“You’re more than a boss,” I confessed.
“And you deserve more than a good guy,” he answered. “You deserve the right guy. Figure out the difference.”
And then he was gone. The heat from his body, the words from his lips.
I watched him take his second turn, lost in thought and wonder.
In my twenty-two years of existence, good and right had always been mutually exclusive. In church, they’d always taught us that being good was the right thing to do.
Love was gentle. Love was kind.
It was the way I had been raised.
Had I fallen in love with Tyler for all the wrong reasons?
“You went bowling? With your boss?” Tyler’s groggy voice asked as I paced around the guest bedroom in Jude and Lailah’s coastal home. I could hear the waves crashing outside my window, calmly reminding me of the late hour. That made me only that much more aware of the time difference in New York.
“Yeah, it was fun. We needed to get out of the house and blow off some steam. Especially Roman. He’s been so busy and stressed. It was good for him.”
The line went quiet as I waited for him to respond. I nervously fidgeted with the little bow on my pajama pants, as I paced around the room.
I shouldn’t have called. I should have waited until morning. Telling your boyfriend you’d been out late with another man, especially one he already loathed, at this late hour was bound to be nothing short of a disaster.
“Roman?” he finally said.
“What?”
“You called him Roman. Since when do you call him Roman?”
More fighting, more nervousness.
“Oh, um… I guess since today. It became a little cumbersome to refer to him as Mr. Cavenaugh all the time.”
No reply. No explosion. No yelling or name calling.
Nothing.
“Listen, it’s late. I’ve got to get up in a few hours for work. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he said simply. There was little anger in his voice. It was as if he’d switched to autopilot.
“Oh, okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep then.”
The call dropped, and I was left with my twitchy hands and an untied bow, wondering what had just happened.
I’d expected an outburst of words, an epic exchange of dialogue where he laid it all out on the table, professing his never-ending love for me and how much it hurt to know I’d spent the night with another man.
I knew it was cruel, but tonight hadn’t started out as a test. I hadn’t purposely sought out the company of another man to see how Tyler would react. But, standing here now, I realized something. He’d just failed a very important test.
Did he even want me anymore?
I felt raw and shattered after my talk with Tyler. Since sleep was no longer an option, I found myself wandering the halls, lost in thought, wondering how we’d ended up like this.
Life with Tyler had always been easy.
In our eight years together, that was the one word I’d use to describe it.
Easy.
Even when we had been half a country apart, we’d managed to make it work seamlessly. He’d started his own life at NYU, and I’d done the same in Lincoln. We’d barely seen each other, but when we had, we’d always picked back up right where we’d left off.
It was effortless.
Our friends and family were always so proud of the way we managed ourselves. We never got caught up in the whirlwind romance, like so many others. We’d stayed firm on our individual paths, and somehow done the impossible—stayed together.
But had we?
As my mind went over and over each detail of the conversation, I continued to slowly roam around the darkened hallways until I heard the faint sound of singing.
The gentle lullaby called to me, and I found myself instantly gravitating toward it.
At the end of the long hall, I could see a soft light seeping out from underneath the door. Noticing it wasn’t fully closed, I quietly knocked, seeing Lailah’s silhouette in the open space.
“Do you mind if I join you?” I asked, sticking my head in.
Rocking back and forth in a comfortable chair with Meara in her arms, she motioned me forward and nodded. “It gets a bit lonely in here sometimes. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
I crawled onto the daybed across from her, making a spot between a giant panda bear and a plush pink elephant. The bedding was soft and warm, and I instantly felt at home in this space.
“We brought in that bed a few weeks after she was born,” Lailah said, fondly pointing to the bed with a look of nostalgia in her tired expression. She was just a few years older than me, maybe mid- to late-twenties, but she held herself with the grace of someone with more years. “She was so small, you see. I just couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her alone.”
Her hands smoothed out the wisps of hair that curled around her baby’s cherub face.
“Was she a preemie?” I asked.
She nodded. “She spent quite a long time in the NICU. And even when they swore she was ready to come home, I was scared to death. I don’t know that any parents, especially those who have spent days and weeks in the NICU, are fully prepared to bring their child home for the first time. I just kept watching her, waiting on every breath.
“We used the bassinet for several weeks until we realized that it resulted in neither of us getting any rest, and that didn’t work at all. So, that’s when the idea of the bed came to be. The pediatrician swore she’d be okay on her own, told us to just rely on a baby monitor, like normal parents. But I couldn’t do it—at least, not at first. We’d been through so much.”
“So, you slept in here? For how long?” I asked, enthralled with her story.
I’d always been fascinated by children, especially babies. Growing up, I’d done my fair share of babysitting, but it had mostly been for our neighbors who had toddlers and young grade-school kids.
“A couple of months,” she answered with a bit of embarrassment. “But it wasn’t just me. Jude and I would trade every other night. I tried to take more than that since he was working, but he refused. He didn’t want me to overdo it. He’s a bit overprotective,” she explained.
“Roman told me about your heart transplant,” I said, hoping I wasn’t overstepping. He hadn’t explained everything, but had mentioned on the way here that his sister-in-law and brother had met in a hospital, while Lailah was waiting for a new heart. They’d fallen in love within the walls of that small hospital room.
“Yes, hence the reason for the overprotectiveness.” She laughed quietly.
“You’re a very brave woman.”
She shrugged, looking down at her daughter with warmth and tenderness. “Bravery comes in all different shapes and sizes. I was given a certain hand in life, and I dealt with it. Sometimes, I’d handle it well, and sometimes, not so well. We all have ups and downs. Shoot, yesterday the grocery store was out of my favorite kind of cereal, and I thought it was the worst day ever. It’s all about perspective.”
“I don’t think anyone can really compare their life to yours,” I said, thinking back to my hall-wandering just a few minutes earlier.
“And they shouldn’t,” she said softly. “Life isn’t about comparing one’s strife to another. It’s about making the most of what you’ve been given. If I sat back and thought about all the hardships I’ve had to endure to get here… right here, it would be overwhelming. Some days, it is overwhelming. But I’m here. I’m living, and I love my life. That’s what it’s all about—loving your life.”
I nodded, watching the rhythm of the rocking chair, as she slowly moved.
“Do you love your life, Cara?” she asked after a few minutes had passed.
“I…” I stumble, trying to find the answer.
Am I happy?
Just as I was about to answer, bloodcurdling baby cries tore through the room as Meara woke.
“Saved by the bell—or baby, I guess I should say.” Lailah laughed. “Would you mind getting me a bottle from the fridge? She fell asleep before I could get her evening feeding in.”
“Sure,” I answered.
“Jude is downstairs in the living room. He’ll give you instructions on how to warm it, if you don’t know how.” Lailah said, trying to soothe the hungry little one.
“I babysat for a few neighbors who still gave bottles. I remember.” I smiled before quietly slipping out of the room.
Was I happy? It was a simple question.
It should be a simple answer.
Yet, as I walked down the long hallway and to the stairs that lead to the kitchen, I couldn’t come up with an answer.
As I approached the open kitchen, expecting to find a tired Jude up, alone, watching TV or reading in the nearby living room, I instead found both Cavenaugh brothers, deep in discussion.
“You like her, don’t you?” Jude said, a wicked grin spreading across his face, as he leaned back against the sofa.
I pulled back into the shadows, realizing the conversation they were having revolved around me.
“You’re incredibly annoying, you realize that?” Roman fired back before sipping brown liquid from a crystal glass.
Whiskey probably. I’d seen vintage bottles high atop the shelves of his office, dating back to his father’s days, and that night in the club, he’d reeked of it.
“And you’re evasive and a little hostile. We all have our things. So, fess up, and then I can give you some proper brotherly advice before you screw it all up.”
“Screw it up? Who says I’m going to screw it up? And since when does the little brother give the advice?”
“Since the little brother seems to have his shit together, the little brother gives the advice. Okay? And I’m not little, jackass.” Jude laughed.
“Could have fooled me with that joke of a car you have,” Roman growled.
He was still annoyed I’d made him drive the clown car for the evening. But he hadn’t bothered covering up that gorgeous smile of his when he was effortlessly weaving in and out of LA traffic. He’d never admit it, but he’d enjoyed the ride.
“That car is called being responsible. I know it’s a word you’re unfamiliar with—”
“Now, who’s being the jackass?” Roman grinned back before letting out a huge sigh. “She’s my employee, Jude. My fucking employee.”
“And Lailah was my patient. What’s your point?” Jude asked, raising a speculative eyebrow.
“My point? What’s my point? That’s the whole fucking point, Jude. She’s off-limits. No dating the employees. Isn’t that a rule? I’m pretty sure it’s even written in the handbook.”
Jude shrugged casually. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t exactly kosher for hospital employees to fool around with patients in their rooms either, but Lailah and I did that plenty of times.”
Roman held his hand out in protest. “That’s my sister-in-law. Please stop. And if this is what you call brotherly advice, it sucks.”
Jude laughed, a deep masculine laugh that filled the room. “Look, brother, this is all I’m going to say. I’ve only been around the two of you for a few hours, and I know you’ve got the hots for her. More than the hots, I’d say.
“I’ve seen you with other women. They were disposable. Frivolous encounters. But Cara? She means something to you, and I don’t think you’ve quite figured out what that is yet. But you owe it to yourself to do so.
“Yes, she’s your employee. Yes, she’s even your assistant. But she’s temporary. And I can’t believe I have to tell you this because I always thought of you as the cunning one, but do yourself a favor. Check out the HR file. She was most likely hired by a temp agency, which means she’s not our employee to begin with.”
Roman’s head whipped around, meeting Jude in shock.
“You really didn’t think of that, did you?” He laughed. “There’s always a way, Roman, if you want there to be.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. She has a boyfriend.”
“Then, why is she here with you?” Jude asked.
I looked down at the half-tied bow on my pajama pants, remembering the way I’d kept fighting with it as I spoke with Tyler.
Why was I here? Was it really for work?
Or was it for something more?
Someone more…