Page 5 of Falling for Her Grumpy Boss

We stand there for a moment, the noise of the room filling the space between us, easy, familiar. He leans back against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other, but his attention doesn’t stay on me for long. It keeps slipping back to her, like a tether he doesn’t even try to hide.

I watch it happen.

The way his body angles toward her without thought. The way his focus shifts even when he’s still talking to me, like part of him is always checking in, always aware.

“You’re unbearable,” I tell him, nodding toward her.

He huffs out a laugh, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“From her?”

“From everyone.” His mouth curves, slow and satisfied. “Don’t care.”

I shake my head, but there’s no bite in it. “You used to be tolerable.”

“Used to be a lot of things,” he counters, pushing off the wall. His gaze flicks back to her again, lingering this time. “Turns out I like this better.”

I study him for a second, taking in the loose ease in his shoulders, the way his jaw isn’t set the way it used to be, the constant edge worn down into something steadier.

“Happy looks bad on you,” I mutter.

He grins wider. “Liar.”

Maybe.

I don’t say it out loud.

Instead, my gaze shifts again, moving through the room, taking it all in. Logan brushing his thumb over Josie’s wrist as she talks. Asher leaning in close, his voice low enough that I can’t hear what he says. Jeremy bending his head toward Clara, his mouth moving against her hair for a brief second before he straightens again, like he needed that contact more than the conversation.

Each of them stands there with one woman at their side, and the realization settles in a way I can’t ignore. They're not chasing the next distraction or filling time between conquests. They've chosen a partner and built a life around her, not something temporary to fill the space between everything else or to slake some of my baser needs. My jaw tightens before I can stop it, and I shift my gaze away, unwilling to let that thought take root any deeper than it already has.

I’ve tried, in my own way, though nothing that looks like this. Nothing that carries that kind of weight or permanence. Finding willing women has never been the problem for me, and there have been more than enough of them over the years. It always starts the same way, easy and uncomplicated, with no expectations beyond the moment. But it never stays that way for long, because sooner or later something shifts. Questions begin to surface, quiet at first, then sharper, followed by expectations I have no intention of meeting and demands I can’t or won’t answer.

Where are we going?

What does this mean?

Why won’t you stay?

I don’t do that. I don’t build my life around someone else’s needs. Don’t adjust my pace, my decisions, my direction to fit another person’s expectations. Everything I have exists because I stayed focused, because I didn’t let anything pull me off course.

As I watch them now, something doesn’t quite settle the way it should. I can see the shift in them clearly enough, the way they’ve moved from who they were to who they are standing here today, but I don’t fully understand how they made that transition. There was a choice somewhere along the line, a moment where they stepped into this and didn’t look back, and that’s the part I can’t quite grasp. More than that, I don’t understand why they would want to.

Caleb clears his throat, pulling me back, and I realize I’ve been staring too long. He studies me for a second, something sharper in his gaze now.

“You ever going to give it a real shot?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the room.

I huff out a breath, shaking my head. “Give what a shot? Settling down?”

He nods. “Not running the other way the second it gets real.”

I meet his eyes, holding the look. “I don’t run.”

His brow lifts. “Maybe.” His eyebrows lower, and his forehead furrows. “But you don’t stay either.”

That lands closer than I like.

I shift my weight, glancing toward the kitchen. “I need coffee.”