I got up and moved for the door.
“Go get her, champ!” Chris urged. “Just hide that massive boner you’re rocking so she doesn’t think you’re a creep.”
I looked down, then groaned in annoyance.
Chris barked a laugh. “He always looks. This fucking guy.” Chris looked around the room, as if at an invisible audience that was eating up his dumb jokes.
“When I come back, I want you out of my office.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Chris waved me out the door.
David was helping Chelsea with the stack of papers when I stepped outside my office. “Did you wrap up the deal for that goalie, David?”
“Y-yes, sir. I mean, I still need him to sign some documents, but he always takes a while to get back to my emails.”
“Then you didn’t wrap it up. Why aren’t you at your desk and on the phone?”
He made an apologetic face, handed Chelsea the papers he’d been carrying for her, and fast walked to his desk.
Chelsea gave me a dry look. “Really, Mr. Rose?”
Jane was waiting with folded arms.
“You can go back to work, too, Jane. I’ll take over.”
Her eyebrows shot up. All the superiority Jane had been wearing was gone in an instant. “Personally? You’re going to train her?”
“Chelsea has shown me more potential in one week than anybody else here has shown me in their entire careers. Yes, I’m going to personally train her, and I’d fully expect you to be answering to her before long.”
Chelsea was blushing, and Jane looked furious—but not stupid enough to talk back. She pressed her lips tightly together, then stormed off.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Chelsea said.
“Do what?”
“Lie for me. Chase off that David guy. Any of it, really.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?” she asked. There was a flash of sincere curiosity in her eyes. It was almost desperate. “Why me?”
“Because no matter how hard I tried to make everything else matter… After you, nothing ever did. Even when I lied to myself and pretended otherwise. It was always you.”
“Did you read that on a Hallmark card?”
“No. I’m trying to… Explain my feelings.”
Chelsea wore a small smile as she stepped closer and adjusted my tie. “The way you’re looking at me right now kinda says a lot.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to take me to the utility closet and put a broom up my ass. Gently.”
“What?”
She smirked. “Inside joke, sorry. But how do I know all this isn’t just because you put a baby in me.”
“For the record, you’re still not off the hook for waiting five years to tell me about that.”
Despite my teasing, I knew deep down she’d made the right choice. God only knew what I would’ve done five years ago—what I would’ve said. It had taken years of erosion for me to admit what I felt. I cared about Chelsea. Fuck, I probably loved her, and that was more ridiculous than it sounded. Just over a week ago, she hadn’t been in my life for five years. And five years ago, she was a blip—just an explosion of perfect sex and the frustrating aftermath.
It had all been so brief, but somehow, she weighed on me still.
Chelsea peeked to see if anyone was looking, then gave me a little kiss on the cheek that was endearingly chaste. “Vulnerability is a good look on you, Mr. Rose.”
My brother burst out of my office then. He let out a dramatic sigh. “I mean, come on. I was trying to be polite and let you guys have a little moment before I came out. But seriously, it has been like ten minutes and I’ve got to piss hard enough to take a urinal off the wall. Can I just—” Chris stuck his palm out, squeezing between us then half-jogged toward the bathroom.
Chelsea smiled after him, then turned back to me. “So, the workday is over soon. Are you really going to personally train me, or was that all just to get a moment alone?”
“A little bit of both, but I meant what I said. I’ll start officially teaching you tomorrow. Why don’t you head home early and pick out something to wear for tonight? I expect to be salivating, and I know you won’t disappoint me.”
Chelsea worked her lips to the side and wiggled her eyebrows. “So I should wear my seared steak print dress, then?”
“I’m sure you’d look amazing in it, but I was thinking something tight and short. Something that won’t put up much of a fight when I decide to tear it off of you.”
She swallowed. “Not the meat dress, then. That one is a bitch to take off.”34ChelseaI took one last look in the mirror, fiddled with my hair for the tenth time, then turned to Grant. “You’re sure this is okay?”
He shrugged. “A thousand dollars to sleep on your couch and tell Luna there’s no hungry hungry hippo under her bed? Yeah, I’ll manage.”