Page 6 of Falling for Her Grumpy Boss

“Of course you do.” His mouth twitches, but he pushes off the wall anyway. “I’ll check on Mags.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just moves, drawn back across the room like that invisible line is pulling him in again.

Pussy-whipped. That’s all.

I watch him go for a second, then turn away, heading for the kitchen before anyone else decides to drag me into another conversation about how good this all is.

The noise fades a little as I step into the quieter space, the scent of fresh coffee stronger here, richer. I reach for a mug, the ceramic cool against my palm, and pour without thinking, the dark liquid filling the cup in a slow, steady stream.

“Too much happiness for you?” Jeremy’s voice reaches me from the doorway, and when I turn, I find him already there, filling the space without stepping fully into it. One shoulder rests against the frame, his body angled just enough to block the way out, as if he anticipated exactly where I’d try to go next. His arms fold loosely across his chest, but there's nothing guarded about the stance.

I glance past him out of habit, catching a partial view of the living room over his shoulder. Movement, light, the blurred shapes of the others still gathered together. Jeremy doesn’t move to give me a clearer line of sight. If anything, he shifts a fraction, not enough to be obvious, just enough that I’d have to step closer to get around him.

When my attention returns to him, his mouth has curved slightly at one corner, the expression holding something back. His gaze lingers on my face for a beat longer than necessary, as if he’s measuring the reaction he just pulled from me and finding it exactly what he expected.

I decide not to take the bait and shrug casually. “Refueling.”

“Sure.” He steps up beside me and reaches for a mug, his sleeve brushing mine as he moves past, the contact light but deliberate enough that I feel it. “Didn’t take you for the baby shower type.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re in the kitchen.” He pours his coffee, then leans back against the counter, watching me over the rim of his cup. “That doesn’t count.”

I take a sip, letting the heat settle on my tongue before I answer. “Your house. Your party. I showed up. That’s more than enough.”

He hums softly, not arguing, just… waiting.

Jeremy’s good at that.

I set the mug down, the ceramic clicking lightly against the counter. “My assistant quit.”

The words leave me without buildup, landing in the quiet space between us as if they’ve been waiting there all along. I don’t dress them up or soften them, because there’s no point. The truth stands on its own, stripped down to exactly what it is.

Jeremy doesn’t react right away. He lifts his cup and takes a slow sip, his gaze staying on me over the rim as if he’s turning the words over before he touches them. There’s no surprise in his expression, no immediate judgment, just a steady kind of attention that tells me he’s already turning it over, already looking for what sits underneath.

“The one you hired six months ago?” His voice is even.

I give a short nod.

Jeremy lowers his cup. “Let me guess. Same reason as the last one.”

I roll my shoulders once, the movement loosening some of the tension sitting there. “Same thing that always happens.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “And why is that?”

I meet his gaze. “She started expecting something that wasn’t part of the deal.”

Jeremy’s jaw shifts slightly, but his expression stays neutral. “And you made it clear it wasn’t on the table.”

“From the start. You know that!”

“And she didn’t believe you.”

“They never do.” The words come out flatter than I intend. “Not long term.”

He studies me for a moment, something measuring in his eyes, then sets his cup down beside mine. “You ever think it’s not about what you say?”

I let out a short breath, something close to a laugh. “Enlighten me.”