Dear Grumpy Boss: A Brother’s Best Friend Office Romance (The Harder They Fall)

I HAD FLOWN FIRST class exactly once, and that had been with Elliot when I left Chicago.

Needless to say, the possibility of flying first class on a business trip hadn’t crossed my mind, so I was surprised to learn that I was when I checked in. I was also told I had access to the first-class lounge, and though I was curious what went on in there, I decided to hang out in the boarding area.

The people watching in airports was second to none. No way I’d give that up for a fancy lounge. Besides, I had a delicate text exchange to deal with.

Letting down Thomas gently wasn’t fun. The worst part was how kind he was about it.

It had to be done, though. Prolonging the inevitable wasn’t fair to either of us.

Staying out of the first-class lounge also meant avoiding running into Weston until we boarded the plane.

He was already seated when I boarded and his brow winged when I walked by him to take my seat on the opposite side, an aisle back.

If he had anything to discuss with me, he could send me an email. There was no need for us to be side by side for this flight. We’d be spending enough time together over the next few days as it was.

When we landed in California, I was relaxed and ready to work. Weston seemed quite the opposite, judging from his tight shoulders and pissed-off scowl. Without speaking, he stood by my row, gesturing for me to go ahead of him, then stayed on my heels until we were in the airport.

He stepped up beside me. “You changed your seating assignment.”

I nodded. I’d learned ticket agents were a lot more accommodating when flying first class. “I like the window.”

“I would have given you the window in my row.”

I flicked my fingers. “That’s okay. This way we both had the window.”

“So, you were doing me a favor and not avoiding me?”

“Right. Exactly.”

“I’m relieved, since avoiding your boss on a work trip would be both childish and pointless.”

“Then it’s good I just like the window seat,” I answered. “From what I read on our schedule, we’ll be visiting Simpson and Associates first. They produce outerwear, correct?”

“If the schedule says it, it’s correct.”

I nodded sharply, pleased Weston had reverted to his usual grumpy boss self. Grumpy Weston, I knew how to deal with. Sexy Weston was outside my paygrade.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

I’d done my research on Andes’ production practices. Andes didn’t own its own factories. They contracted with factories all over the world, requiring them to adhere to Andes’ strict labor and environmental rules. Four of the factories were in California, the others were spread around Asia, Mexico, and El Salvador.

It was honestly impressive how huge Andes had grown while still maintaining their strict production practices.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when a Tesla was delivered to us at the pickup curb, and Weston climbed behind the wheel. He took environmentalism seriously, from his company, down to his personal habits.

Weston’s thumbs tapped on the wheel as he sped away from the city. “Do you have questions for me?”

I looked up from my tablet, where I’d been reading up on our first stop. “Sure. Do you visit all your factories like this?”

He scoffed. “We work with more than seventy suppliers. I don’t have the time to visit them all every year, though I’ve been inside each and every one at least once.”

I waited for more of an answer. I had a feeling it wasn’t so simple.

He exhaled, sliding his eyes to me. “Andes employs field staff who are inside the factories on a regular basis. Often, I’m taken on walk-throughs via videoconference, and those happen at random. I wouldn’t be able to run this company if I had any doubt about who is making our products.”

“Children?” I guessed.

He nodded once. “Exactly. Andes doesn’t work with suppliers who have even been rumored to use child or forced labor. Our oversight is extensive, to some, over the top, but—”

“I don’t think it’s over the top. It’s admirable.”

“It’s necessary.” His jaw clenched. He continued tapping his thumbs on his steering wheel. Another few miles passed, thick silence filling the spaces all around us.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be going to the mill that makes your filler?”

“Yes. They’ve been with me since the very beginning.”

“Wow.” I shook my head. “It’s crazy to me that you started all this at twenty years old. When I was twenty, I spent most of my time either getting drunk at stupid parties, recovering from hangovers, or frantically studying for a test the night before.”

He glanced at me again. “That’s exactly what you should have been doing. Having fun, living. It’s not like you had the chance to do that when you were in high school.”

“Yeah.” I sank into my seat. Weston didn’t know the half of it, but the half he did know was bad.

My crazy mother. Her neglect, depression, violent mood swings…the car crash I never once doubted was intentional. The relief I never voiced when she was gone and I didn’t have to take care of her. The solace when Elliot moved home and I could finally breathe again.

Weston had had a front-row seat to the madness of Elaine Levy.

“I shouldn’t have brought that up,” he gruffed. “I’m sorry.”

I waved him off, even though he was right, he shouldn’t have. “Don’t worry. I know your boss hat is firmly in place, but it would be strange to pretend you don’t know anything about me.”

He cleared his throat, but his words came out with the same gruffness. “All of that is true, but now is not the time to press on a sore subject. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re forgiven.”

His jaw tightened. “That easy?”

“You’re my boss, Mr. Aldrich. Of course I won’t hold a grudge against you.”

I swore I heard his molars crack.

A team was waiting for us at our first stop. Two men and a woman in suits, and a man in khakis and a polo with the factory logo embroidered on his chest.

As we approached, the woman broke off from the group. The slow, perusing smile she gave Weston was in direct contradiction to the professional handshake she offered.

He took her hand in his, cupping it with his other. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “It’s good to see you, Marisol.”

She leaned in, her red lips glistening. “It’s really good to see you, West. It’s been too long.”

This woman was stunningly beautiful. Tall and slender, with curvy hips and a tiny, nipped waist, she looked like the Hollywood version of a businesswoman. Her cigarette trousers and silky cream blouse could have come directly from the wardrobe department. Her glossy waves looked like they’d just been touched up by her beauty team. I wasn’t even jealous. I was sort of dumbfounded this woman existed in real life.

“Far too long,” Weston agreed.

After basically eye-fucking in broad daylight, they finally let go of each other, and he greeted the rest of the group. At the last minute, he seemed to remember I was there and introduced me to everyone. They couldn’t have been less interested in me, which was fine. I wasn’t here for these suits anyway.

I spent the next two hours trailing behind the group, taking notes as we toured the factory. Weston stopped to talk to many of the workers, some he knew by name. The entire time, Marisol stayed at his side, finding every excuse to touch him.

I learned she was head of the West Coast supply chain for Andes. Obviously, she and Weston worked closely together. I idly wondered what else they’d done closely together. From her casual touches, I knew.

Interestingly, Weston had breached his own professional ethics to fuck Marisol. I supposed there were always exceptions to rules—especially when the exception looked like that.

When it was time to leave for the next factory, I headed toward Weston’s Tesla, stopping in my motherflipping tracks when Marisol the Beautiful opened the passenger door and slipped inside, sitting in my seat like it belonged to her.

A throat cleared behind me.

I turned around, slamming my slackened mouth closed. Dev and Jeff, the other two managers, were next to their SUV.

Dev opened the back passenger door. “You’re riding with us.”

“I am?”

I glanced back to find the Tesla speeding out of the parking lot, and my stomach dropped. Weston had left me without saying a word. He’d actually abandoned me.

That asshole.

All I wanted to do was sit down on the curb and refuse to go anywhere until he came back and dumped Marisol out of my seat. Then I’d dump him out of his seat and leave him in the dust.

Instead, I pulled myself together and climbed into the back of the SUV with the two men who were strangers to me.

Nice. Really nice.

Several hours, another factory tour, and a tense, silent drive later, we arrived at our hotel. I was completely trashed, ready to curl up in my bed, order room service, and read smut until I passed out.

Because Weston was who he was, the hotel manager met us in the lobby and escorted us to our floor, stopping at my room first. As soon as I had the key in my hand, I ducked inside, leaving Weston with the manager in the hallway.

I was kind of done being around him.

Being ignored for almost an entire day would do that.

So, yeah. Boss Weston sucked. And seeing him with Marisol had brought me back to the days of his plethora of women. I wondered why I’d ever allowed him to touch me. This was who he was. He hadn’t changed. He’d only gotten more discreet.

After ordering room service, I took a shower and put on the silk shortie pajamas Saoirse had bought me as a roommate gift.

It wasn’t late, but I had no intention of leaving this room tonight.

I was towel drying my hair when there was a soft knock on the door. My stomach growled as if it knew my dinner was on the other side.

But it wasn’t room service knocking. Weston stood there, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans.

“Oh.” I was honestly taken aback to see him, especially looking so casual. “It’s you.”

His brow pinched as he took in what I was wearing. “Hey. I wanted to see if you’d like to grab dinner with me.”

I tugged on my flowy camisole, wishing my shorts were a little longer. “These are my pajamas. I’m in for the night.”

“You have to eat,” he argued.

“And I will. I’m waiting for room service.”

“Oh.” He glanced down the hall as if searching for something to say. “I thought we could go over your thoughts on how today went and discuss the plan for tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “If you’d like my thoughts, I’ll email you.”

Not all my thoughts. If I emailed those, I would be fired.

He dipped his chin. “Are you sure? There’s a restaurant I like to eat at whenever I’m in town. It’s walking distance and—”

“I’m sure, Weston. If you don’t want to go alone, maybe Marisol will join you. I’m sure she’d be eager for it.”

As he was about to speak, my room service arrived. Weston had to move aside to let the man carrying my dinner into my room. He placed it on the coffee table and thanked me when I tipped him.

In those thirty seconds of distraction, Weston had stepped into my room, closing the door after the server left.

I frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Are you angry at me?” he asked.

With a sigh, I sat down on the small couch and tucked my legs underneath me, holding a pillow in my lap. “No. I’m tired and don’t want to work for the rest of the night.”

“Being around me is work?”

“Why are you pressing this?” I held out my hand and let it fall heavily. “You asked me to dinner to discuss work-related topics. I’m not interested in doing that tonight. That has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

He pushed off the wall beside the door and strode toward me. “Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Then why bring up Marisol?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s your colleague and you seem to have a lot to say to each other. So much so I had to ride in an entirely different vehicle with two men I was introduced to today. I’d think you’d have plenty to talk about over dinner.”

He went still for two seconds, then his head bowed and he muttered a curse. “That shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“It’s fine, Weston.”

“No, it isn’t. I asked you to come out here. I should have made sure you were comfortable riding with Jeff and Dev. That won’t happen tomorrow.”

It struck me hard that he didn’t say he shouldn’t have let Marisol take my spot in his car. Was I overreacting? I supposed it wasn’t so ludicrous for Weston to drive his coworker while I rode with other coworkers.

But no. At the very least, he should have said something. Checked in with me. I wasn’t going to gaslight myself into believing it had been okay for him to ditch me with Dev and Jeff, some of the least delightful men I’d ever met.

I put on my best smile. “I’ll be prepared for it tomorrow. No biggie.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like when you do that.”

“What?”

“Act like you’re okay when you aren’t.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’d like me to do.”

Rounding the coffee table, he dropped into the armchair diagonal to me. He sat on the edge of the cushion, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“Elise.” He pressed his palms together and leveled me with a direct stare. Then he spoke to me like I was a child having a tantrum. “If you felt neglected today, or you’re angry at me for speaking to my managers and not you, you’ll have to work through that. I made a mistake with the car situation, but the reality is this trip isn’t about you and me. I’m here to touch base with my suppliers and my West Coast team. You’re here to find content and conduct interviews for the catalog. That’s it. This isn’t a social trip. We’re not on vacation. You get that, right?”

I blinked at him, unwilling to let him see his soft admonishment felt like a stinging whip across already tender skin. How dare he beg me to let him hold me one last time then behave like it had never happened.

“I do get that. Do you get that you’re in my hotel room, pressing me even though I asked you to stop? I’ve told you more than once everything is fine, but you’re still here, which I don’t understand. Would you have forced your way into another employee’s hotel room?”

“No,” he uttered.

“Then why are you in mine?”

“Elise,” he sighed. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Weston, don’t be confusing. You drew a line with me, which I agreed with. If you want to be my friend outside of work, fine. Let’s do that. But you can’t be a total dick to me when you’re being the boss. If we’re not going to be friends, then you really shouldn’t be in my hotel room.”

His face had drawn into a displeased furrow. “I’m not sure what you want from me. Is there anything I can say that will be right?”

I crushed the pillow to my chest, tired and hurt and so completely done with this conversation. “Have you had sex with Marisol?”

He barely flinched, but it was enough.

“You can go.” I turned away from him, staring at the far wall. This was the exact kind of drama I had no space for. And the wild thing was, I was half the cause of it. Me, the girl who had snuck out of Chicago in the middle of the night to avoid confrontation.

Weston Aldrich seemed to keep bringing out the worst in me.

It was maddening.

But when he got up and quietly left my room, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from asking him to come back.