Zero Forks Read online

  ZERO FORKS

  An Opposites Attract Rom Com

  CAT JOHNSON

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  BOONE

  I know a BS excuse when I hear one. And my new boss has thrown half a dozen at me about why we can't be together. I only have one thing to say to all of that. The number of fuc—uh—forks I give about what other people think about us is zero. A big fat goose egg.

  See! I've even learned to watch my language around her and the kid. I'm that serious about proving to this woman she needs to give me—give us—a chance. That it doesn't matter if she is a little older than me, or that I work for her, or that the Mudville gossip mill will definitely choose us as the topic du jour.

  All that matters is that I can prove to her that life, especially life in a small town, is so much better when you don't give a fu—um, I mean—fork.

  Darn it, that swear jar is going to bankrupt me.

  SARAH

  I’ve sworn off men. It took me thirty-nine years and two huge mistakes in the romance department to come to my senses but I finally did. Work is my life now and that’s exactly the way I like it.

  That’s what makes it extra uncomfortable that the adorable three-year old I inherited for six months while my sister is deployed has chosen a hot, ripped twenty-something farmer as our new live-in nanny.

  Boone’s too nice, too sunshiny and too good with the boy for me to fire him, but dammit he needs to start wearing more clothes around the house because I’m one hard ab away from breaking my vow of celibacy with a man who’s ridiculously wrong for me in so many ways.

  Zero Forks is a standalone opposites attract, older woman younger man, steamy, grumpy boss romance set in Mudville, the crazy small town you’ve come to know and love.

  ONE

  Sarah

  I felt the overly cool breeze from the air conditioning brush my bottom, right about the same time I reached the front of the conference room and turned to see the smirk on my co-worker Jerry’s face.

  Next to him, Kelly, the office assistant, made frantic but subtle hand motions to communicate to me exactly what I already feared I knew—that I’d just arrived at a presentation for the head of my department and the big boss of the company with the hem of my skirt accidentally tucked into the waistband of my Spanx.

  I got a glimpse of my direct supervisor’s widened eyes. Kim could commiserate. Any woman would understand that sometimes these things happened.

  Then I got a look at the big boss’s face and saw his single raised graying eyebrow.

  Nope. No understanding there.

  Mr. Rockland, in his pristine navy three-piece suit and conservative plain red tie, had no clue what it was like to have to rush to the ladies’ room on the way to a meeting that was about to start.

  He’d never performed the juggling act of trying to text to say he’d be right there while sitting on the bowl, and then try to wrestle up a pair of skin-tight shape-wear while not dropping the cell into the toilet.

  As far as I could see, I had two choices here. I could crawl under the conference table and hope to die, or I could own the less than ideal situation I was in and move on with the presentation.

  Since I hadn’t worked fewer than twelve hours a day for the past week getting ready for this meeting, there was no question in my mind. I wasn’t crawling away to hide anywhere.

  But my determination to forge ahead didn’t change the fact the room was dead silent and my ass was still hanging out—though at least now it was facing the wall and not the man who signed my very sizable paychecks. The checks I’d like to keep getting, thank you very much.

  And of course, there was Jerry, still looking amused at my expense as he sat next to Mr. Rockland.

  Bastard.

  Jerry was enjoying my embarrassment far too much. Not a surprise. I already knew he was an asshole. Too bad I hadn’t found that out before I made the mistake of sleeping with him.

  My hate and anger toward Jerry fueled me.

  So did my resolve to land the big account that the management brain trust at this company had decided we would have to compete for.

  Never mind that I’d been with the company ten years and Jerry had been here all of what? Six months, maybe? I’d tried to block the week of his arrival out of my mind.

  I lifted my chin higher, set down an armful of notebooks and files and my phone on the table . . . and saw the display light up with a call on the cell that I had, thank God, remembered to put on silent.

  Ignoring the call, I reached back and tugged the hem of my skirt free, letting it fall back over my exposed behind as I said, “So, now that I’ve got your attention . . . Let’s get right to the presentation. Shall we?”

  An hour later I wasn’t sure if I’d redeemed myself after my fashion faux pas or not, but I’d done my best, in spite of having to face Jerry’s smart ass expression through the whole thing.

  Demographics. Target markets. Budget breakdowns. Timelines and goals. I covered it all to the best of my ability.

  My part was over. The rest—the choice of who would get the account—was out of my hands. I’d either win it or Jerry would. That was up to Mr. Rockland now.

  I went back to my office where I could hide and try to soothe my wounded pride over the indecent exposure, while awaiting the boss’s decision.

  Hopefully neither of those things—the healing of my pride or the decision from above—would take very long.

  I stared down at my idea notebook where I had started brainstorming some initial ideas for the creative aspect, should I land this account. I was just wondering if I should take the time to think of more approaches for the campaign, just in case, when a knock on the frame of my open door brought my head up.

  Kim took a step inside. “Hey, I just wanted to say you did great.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, me and my Spanx.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I think it lightened the mood nicely.”

  “Great. Let’s hope Mr. Rockland agrees.”

  She glanced behind her, closed the door and came to sit opposite me in the chair. “You know if it were up to me, you’d already have this account. And also between you and me, pitting you against Jerry to compete for it is bullshit.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot.” And I couldn’t agree with her more. It was bullshit. But fine. If that’s the game Mr. Rockland wanted to play, I’d play. And I’d win.

  I hoped.

  Jeez, I’d better win. It was already hard enough having to work with Jerry as it was. I didn’t need him gloating over his victory as well.

  My cell lit again with a text and I cringed, remembering I had gotten and ignored at least four more texts during my presentation.

  I picked it up now and glanced at the display. “Uh oh.”

  Leaning forward I tapped the text and opened the whole chain. Every one was from my sister and, even with just a glance, I could see that none of them were good.

  “Everything all right?” Kim asked.

  “Um, yes. And no.” I blew out a breath and decided to spill it. Kim was a friend as well as my supervisor. Besides, there’d be no hiding this anyway. I glanced up. “It seems I’m going to have a little one to take care of soon.”

  Her shocked gaze dropped to my stomach, hidden behind the desk. “Um, what?”

  I shook my head. “Oh, God, no. I’m not pregnant.”

  Thank goodness for that since the last man I’d had sex with had been Jerry the dickhead.

  Kim frowned. “Well, that’s good, I guess. But I still don’t understand.”

  “It looks like my sister’s three-year old son is going to be living with me for the foreseeable future.” I glanced up from the texts about to explain further. Namely, Liza’s impending deployment with the N
ational Guard—which I knew about—and how our parents were suddenly unable to watch Stewie as planned thanks to my dad’s ill-timed but apparently vicious case of shingles—which was a surprise to all of us.

  I didn’t get a chance as Kim’s cell rang.

  Her eyes widened. “It’s Rockland.”

  I stopped breathing as she answered the call, doing my best to decipher her series of mmm-hmms and nods.

  Finally she disconnected. Her gaze met mine as she cringed. “I’m not sure this is the best news.”

  “I didn’t get it.” I sunk back in my chair, deflated.

  “No. You did get it,” she said. “But in light of what you just told me about your nephew, can you handle it?”

  “Yes,” I answered without thinking, elated in my victory.

  “You know what this account entails. Flying to the client’s offices in California. Extra hours. Weekends.”

  “I’ll make it work. I’ll hire a nanny. Whatever it takes.”

  Kim evaluated me closely.

  After a few seconds where I died inside at the thought she was going to take this project away from me because of my new child care situation, she finally nodded and I could breathe again.

  That was until she said, “There’s more.”

  “All right.” I steeled myself for whatever else she was about to spring on me, confident I could handle anything.

  “Rockland decided to have both of you work on the project together.”

  “Both of who?” I frowned until a niggling of suspicion crept into my brain. “No. Not me and Jerry. Together.”

  I shook my head in horror at the thought.

  It couldn’t be. I’d won the account. Fair and square.

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  My eyes flew wide. “Why?”

  “He thinks it will provide for a more inclusive branding campaign to have both a male and a female working with the client.”

  “Misogynist,” I mumbled, not quite beneath my breath, angry the old man couldn’t bear to have a woman in charge of his biggest account.

  The old man obviously wanted Jerry on this, but since my presentation blew Jerry’s away, Rockland couldn’t just hand it to him. So he came up with this partnership.

  Even deep into the twenty-first century, the good old boy network was still alive and well, beneath the glass ceiling of corporate sexism.

  Kim, being in management, didn’t agree or disagree with me. She had the good manners to pretend she didn’t hear my accusation and moved on.

  “You gonna be okay with working as a team?” she asked.

  I had to be, didn’t I?

  It wasn’t in me to walk away and hand this client over to Jerry. Especially since I knew to my core I was the better choice.

  I straightened my spine and drew in a bracing breath. “Yes. Definitely. I’ve got this.”

  As if on cue, Jerry walked by, pausing in front of the window in my door long enough to deliver a lascivious grin and a wiggle of his fingers in a wave that somehow made me feel dirty. Like I now needed to shower.

  He waggled his eyebrows at me, grinned wide at my horrified expression, and walked away, laughing his way down the hall.

  That’s when I realized, I didn’t have this at all.

  How was I going to watch a three-year old, and handle a major new account along with the forty-three-year-old lech I loathed as my partner on it?

  I didn’t know, but I had a feeling it might require a good bit of alcohol. And coffee. Maybe some energy drinks. Or all of the above.

  And, very possibly, murder.

  TWO

  Boone

  “Hey.” Stone yelled to me from across the driveway as I headed toward my truck.

  I paused and waited for him to walk over. I suppose I could have met him half-way but hell, he was already on the way here so why bother?

  When he reached me, he asked, “Did you finish cutting the south field?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Didn’t start it yet.”

  His eyes just about popped out of his head. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m planning on doing it tomorrow.” I leaned back against the tailgate since this was looking to turn into a long conversation.

  “Why tomorrow? Why not today?” Stone sent me a look that I swear made him look just like our ninety-year-old granddaddy used to when he was feeling cranky—God rest his soul.

  If my older brother didn’t watch it and chill the fuck out, he’d end up next to Granddaddy in the Morgan family plot. All his bitching couldn’t be good for Stone’s blood pressure.

  In direct opposition to that thought, I decided to fuck with him—get his blood pressure a little higher.

  I shrugged. “Why not tomorrow?”

  My plan worked. Stone looked like one of those cartoon characters whose head was about to explode.

  I grinned at my victory and reached into my pocket for my keys.

  Pushing off the truck, I said, “See you later.”

  I climbed in and fired up the engine before Stone’s head did explode and I was the only one around for Mom and Daddy to blame.

  Truth was, I’d already promised Brandon Webster I’d do some landscaping work for him over at the old Van de Berg house.

  Pruning. Putting some bulbs in the ground that’d bloom in the spring. Easy shit. But the man was from the city and was willing to pay me a fortune for odd jobs like this.

  I liked the guy. He was dating my friend Bethany so I’d never take advantage of him. But I sure as fuck wasn’t going to say no to the money he offered me either, even if I would have done the work for half.

  There was more to my putting off cutting the field than my job for Brandon or my spiting Stone for trying to play boss man.

  It was damp and overcast today—perfect for planting. When I’d checked the weather app on my phone, the forecast showed tomorrow was going to be hot, sunny and dry. It’d be the better day for cutting hay.

  I didn’t tell Stone any of that. Hell, I shouldn’t have to. Farmers lived and died by the weather and he should know what was happening as well as I did.

  Not only was it too much fun watching his face turn red as he got more and more pissed at me, I wasn’t going to let him think he was the boss of me.

  I’d get my work done . . . in my own damn time.

  After twenty-six years of knowing me, you’d think my big brother would have learned that by now. That he hadn’t, showed he needed to be taught a lesson. Why shouldn’t I be the one to teach it?

  A few minutes later I was pulling along the curb by the diner. I’d get to the Van de Berg house on Second Street soon enough—I could literally walk there from here—but work would go so much better after I’d sucked down a black and white milkshake for fuel. The bacon and eggs I’d had for breakfast hadn’t done it for me.

  The diner had reopened just a few months ago and from what I could see, they were killing it in business. Always busy, especially on weekends.

  Today was no exception. I skirted past the line of people waiting for a table and moved up to the counter.

  I saw it was my cousin Shalene, home from college for the weekend, working behind the counter. Grinning, I lifted my arm in a wave.

  Score! Not only would she not make me wait for service, she’d also make my shake extra thick. Just the way I liked it.

  “Hey, Boone,” she called as she rushed by with a coffee carafe to refill a customer’s mug. When she was done pouring, she worked her way back to me. “What can I get for you?”

  “Black and white shake, extra thick. To go, please.” I had two weaknesses—women and food. Oh, and beer too. And playing pool. Okay, so I had four weaknesses. Not too bad, considering.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “What a surprise.”

  I narrowed my gaze at her. “Hey, nothing wrong with sticking to what I like.”

  “If you say so. It’ll be a minute. I’ll get on it right away.” She disappeared into the back.

  There was one stool at the
counter open but since the place was packed and I wasn’t staying anyway, I decided to stand and leave it for someone who was eating here.

  I moved off to the side and leaned against the end of the counter to stay out of the way and await my shake as I anticipated the pleasure about to hit my tongue.

  From my vantage point I got a view of everyone in the diner.

  There was the usual mix of people. Both locals and strangers.

  At one table the mayor seemed to be in deep conversation with the head of the zoning board. I had to wonder what that was about.

  Old man Buck looked to be enjoying a cup of coffee with Alice Mudd—that was certainly interesting. Was there romance blooming amid the Mudville octogenarians?

  A couple of football players from the high school team, the Mudville Hogs, were scarfing down french fries and burgers at the table nearest to me.

  I caught the gaze of a guy at the other end of the counter who I volunteered with at the fire department and tipped up my chin in greeting. He lifted one hand in a wave before focusing back on his kid.

  Then there were the transients—most likely a blend of tourists, truck drivers, hunters and fishermen, and random people who were just driving by on the highway and had stopped in to grab a bite.

  It was nice to see new people in town. My brother Stone generally didn’t agree with that sentiment, but he and I were pretty much opposites in most things.

  I evaluated the crowd as a whole. Young and old. Male and female. Rich, poor. Farmers in well-worn jeans and boots, and city slickers in their designer casual weekend-wear. Mudville had become a melting pot with the reopening of both the diner and the bar-slash-restaurant in Mudville House next door.

  The increasing number of newcomers diluted a bit of the local craziness. Not all of it, mind you, but a bit.

  Leaning on my forearms as I waited for Shalene to put the lid on my shake, I glanced around and spotted a sight to behold coming through the door.

  There were lots of strangers in here today, but only one had been worthy of a second look . . . and a third.