The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

white knee socks, and a smile that lit up the universe.
    I could hear her voice in my head. Childish then, but still Grace.
    “ Higher, Grams. Higher.”
    “I’m sure footsy isn’t elite enough for someone like you.” Grace reached for the door handle. “I’m good on my own, but thanks.”
    “Tomorrow night,” I said, struggling to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight yet, but I had no choice. “You’re going to the community awareness gathering?”
    “I said I was, didn’t I?”
    “Good. I’ll pick you up at the office at six. I need assistance with some materials.”
    Even in the darkness of the car, there was no missing how her shoulders stiffened. “You do realize the weekend means I’m off the clock.”
    “We’re going to the same place. It makes sense that we travel together. I could pick you up at home if you’d rather,” I said lightly.
    For some reason, I knew that was off the table. I wasn’t the most intuitive guy in the world—the term “oblivious” had been used a few times by my exes—but I had a good guess why Grace didn’t want me to drive her home. It wasn’t because she was concerned I’d demand to see her bedroom.
    She must think her place wasn’t up to snuff, which was ridiculous. Marblehead didn’t have anything but nice houses. Even if it did, what did I care? As long as she was safe and she liked her accommodations, I’d never make any bones about her living arrangements. I’d once lived way too close to the gutter myself.
    “I’ll meet you at the office,” she muttered, opening the door.
    “On the roof.”
    She glanced back at me, her hair whipping into her face from the wind. Rain spattered into the car, but I liked the feeling of it on my hot skin too much to wipe it away. “Did you say the roof?”
    “I did.” She liked to go higher, so at least I could give her that if I couldn’t offer her anything else. “Take this.” I pushed my umbrella across the seat. “Can’t have you out sick and missing work.”
    She shot me a look and grabbed the umbrella, unfolding it for her two minute run into the building. I watched her close it up and duck inside, then rush up to the counter. More tea, perhaps? My mouth watered. It hadn’t been so bad, especially with sugar.
    Once she had a cup of something, she came back to the big picture window and sat down. And saw me still idling at the curb, watching.
    She lifted her hand in a wave, full of impatience. I could practically hear her telling me to go.
    So I did.
    Once I was home, I took a shower—without touching my dick, which had been a feat of epic proportions—and pulled on a pair of silk pajama bottoms. I picked up my phone and clicked on the app store, then typed in coloring app .
    What the hell, right?
    Six hours later, I finally set aside my phone and climbed into bed. My eyes were blurry from staring at pixelated colors for so long on that tiny screen. Next time I would open it on my tablet.
    No, I would not. I would delete that stupid app. Coloring was for children. Especially coloring in an app .
    “So stupid.” I punched my pillow and closed my sore eyes.
    The next morning, I went for my usual five mile run. When I returned, my mother’s car was in the drive. She and a stocky blond man were waiting by my front door, broad smiles on their faces.
    “There you are,” my mother said, patting her companion’s arm. “That’s my boy.”
    “Blake, is it?” The man held out his hand and I shook automatically, though I had no doubt he knew who I was. That he’d known even before he’d hooked up with my mother.
    It wouldn’t be the first time.
    “Yes. Blake. You’re Brant.” I didn’t tack on a question, because I’d recognized him right away.
    I’d researched him after my conversation with my mother the other day, and what I’d found matched her usual boyfriend. Questionable past that included a couple of minor incarcerations, sketchy work history, four failed