Wrong Effing Number: A Falling for the Boss MPreg (Sprung Like Spring Book 6) Read online

  There was absolutely no way Cole Foster was looking at me in that way. He was just tired, and probably every bit as bored as I was.

  My phone buzzed again, and I was thankful for the distraction since I wasn't sure how much more I could have taken of us just sitting there staring at each other. It hadn't necessarily been getting awkward, but I was wearing light-colored pants, and I didn't need this semi chub getting any chubbier.

  Satan's Sadistic Sister: What kind of fucking meeting does a vet have on a Saturday night? Is he taking advantage of you? Is he trying to seduce you?

  Me: I wish! We're at a vet conference. We're in a group meeting with one of the drug reps in the hotel lobby. They're doing a presentation.

  Satan's Sadistic Sister: You're young and pretty. Shouldn't you be sneaking beer with your friends somewhere on a Saturday night?

  Me: I don't need to sneak beer. I can just go buy it from the store like every other twenty-three-year-old in the world.

  Satan's Sadistic Sister: But Saturday night and you're in a business meeting? That's so fucking boring.

  What was her damn obsession about Saturday night? I knew she was settled down with Tanner now, but I seriously doubted the man would even try to keep her from going out on the town, so it wasn't likely she felt deprived… of anything. Plus, she knew I wasn't likely to be out on the town on a Saturday night even if I wasn't at a work-related convention.

  I started to answer Ronni, fully intent on embarrassing the unembarrassable, but another text came through, and I blinked at the name, trying not to openly cringe. I was going to have to change Cole's name in my phone before he saw that shit.

  Big Beautiful Bossman: Who are you texting? You look like an evil scientist or something.

  Me: My sister Ronni. She thinks I should be sneaking beer. I think she forgets how old I am sometimes.

  Big Beautiful Bossman: Aw. Family. That makes sense. I'm bored out of my mind. Have you been listening to any of this, because I'm pretty sure I've read this exact presentation word for word in the five brochures they gave us throughout the day?

  Me: Well, I guess it's working then because you'll basically be able to recite it. Maybe they'll hire you to do the presentation next. Oh shit, what if it's some kind of chain letter type situation or a pyramid scheme. Now that we've heard his spiel, we both have to tell ten other people. Do you think I'll get a car out of this?

  Cole snorted across from me, and I glanced up at him, trying to hide my smile.

  Big Beautiful Bossman: You have a big family, right? You take half, I'll take half.

  Me: You can have them all. I'd rather have bad luck for ten years than talk to some of the heathens in my family.

  Speaking of… Another text came in from my sister, and I sighed, rolling my eyes.

  Satin's Sadistic Sister: What the hell are you doing?

  Before I even had time to read the damn thing, much-less type up a response, another came through and then another.

  Satin's Sadistic Sister: Answer me, you little shit.

  Satin's Sadistic Sister: I'm your sister. I'm more important than ogling your boss.

  I growled in frustration, forgetting for a moment that I was sitting in the middle of a meeting and that there were people sitting all around me. I was reminded when the woman sitting next to me glared over at me.

  I smiled sweetly, opening the next text blindly with my thumb. I quickly typed up a response and hit send, beyond frustrated with my sister and seriously considering texting Tanner and telling him to withhold the D.

  Me: Cut it out, or I'm going to tell you all about how I can tell my boss isn't wearing underwear right now, and I'd love to suck his beautiful dick between my lips and feel it come alive in my mouth.

  I hit send and glanced at the text directly above it, the reality of the situation taking a long moment to process, but when it did, my whole body went cold and then hot.

  Big Beautiful Bossman: I'm literally watching your blood pressure go up the more she texts you.

  Wait! What? Does that mean…

  I looked up quickly, my damn heart racing as he flipped his phone over, clearly intent on checking the message he'd just received… from me. The message he'd received from me that was meant for Ronni. The message from me, meant to gross my sister out… since it talked about me wanting to suck my bosses dick. His dick. Coles dick.

  "Don't read that!" I yelled loudly, scrambling over the coffee table with every intention of snatching his phone right out of his hand. Only, I wasn't used to wearing these damn pointy-toed shoes, and I caught the tip of the mother fucker on the edge of the fucking table and pitched forward.

  I turned my head just in time to keep from taking the edge of the super modern, super uncomfortable couch on the other side right between the eye, but it sure would have been nice if the damn thing would have knocked me out, because, son of a bitch, that shit hurt.

  I also think I could have walked away with a simple case of wounded pride if Cole wouldn't have been sitting spread eagle like he had three-hundred-pound balls too since my head hit the wood directly between his legs. Granted, that would have meant me landing face first in his lap, but I could honestly say I would have at least enjoyed the whole experience a little more.

  "What the hell, Riley? Are you okay?" Cole asked, sounding a little frantic as he maneuvered one of his long, thick legs over my body and crouched down beside me on the floor. I rolled over, my hand immediately going to the side of my face.

  "Shit," Cole said, gripping my wrist and pulling my hand away. "Come on."

  He helped me stand, practically picking me up and putting me directly on my feet, and I groaned as my face started to throb.

  I wasn't sure where the towel came from, but I suddenly had a bright white terry-cloth scrap of fabric pressed to my cheek.

  "Is everything alright?" The super sweet girl who worked at the front asked, and I blinked over at her, surprised at how fast she'd gotten there. "Should I call someone? Does he need stitches?"

  "I'll take care of it," Cole told her calmly, pulling me on to the elevator. "It's a good thing I brought my case. I think I still have some glue left, but I always take the thing when I go home, and it's not a Foster family get together if I'm not patching someone up."

  "Is it that bad?" I asked, still not sure what the hell was even going on.

  "No," he said, biting his lip in concentration as he pulled the rag back a bit to check again. "The glue will be plenty, and in all honesty, you probably don't even really need that, but I don't want to do butterflies, because I know how expressive you can be with your face, and you'd just be constantly reopening it. Plus, the glue will help seal it a little better.

  My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down at it, surprised to see that I was still holding it. Well, at least I hadn't thrown it across the room when I fell… But then I remembered why I fell, and the text that was no doubt sitting on Cole's phone right then.

  I groaned and he pulled me into his side, still holding the rag to my face until we got to our door. "I've got some ibuprofen too," he said softly, gripping my wrist and bringing it to the cloth so that I could take over for him.

  "I'd rather have vodka," I grumbled, wondering if I could get him plastered, steal his phone and use his thumbprint to unlock it.

  Or maybe, I could do something far less ridiculous, and just ask him to borrow his phone.

  He chuckled, directing me to the bathroom and making me gasp when he easily lifted me up onto the sink before turning and going back into the room. I noticed he had a little blood on his sleeve and the front of his shirt, and I cringed, hoping he hadn't tried to save space packing and only brought a couple because I was pretty sure that one was done.

  I shot a quick text to my sister, letting her know it was her fault if I got fired for sexual harassment, and when all I got back was an emoji of the middle finger, I considered calling her and yelling at her a little but settled for texting Cam instead. Mostly because he was the one I spent
the majority of my time talking to about just how big a fucking crush I had on my boss.

  Thankfully, he seemed to understand how dire the situation was, which didn't do anything to actually help, but it made me feel a little better.

  Cole came back in the room, holding up a glue pen triumphantly, and I rolled my eyes.

  "I can't believe you brought liquid stitches to the conference."

  He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me as he neatly placed all his supplies on the counter next to me. "I can't believe you needed liquid stitches at the conference."

  I curled my lip but held still as he cleaned the wound and sealed the thing shut. His hands were warm and dry and sure, and I was completely transfixed as usual about the way they moved so deftly. Thankfully he was paying attention to what he was doing, because with him standing so close––practically between my legs––and touching me, I couldn't help but stare.

  I watched his thick, full lips as he bit and licked them while he worked, and I just wanted to feel them against mine so damn bad. I just wanted to lick along the seam and suck one into my mouth.

  I must have swayed toward him because he grabbed my shoulders. "You're not feeling lightheaded, are you?"

  "No," I whispered, blushing with all my might. "I'm fine."

  I wasn't. I wasn't fine at all, and I was going to have to find a way to get my hands on his fucking phone before he got the chance to read that fucking message.

  ***

  The award for bumbling idiot definitely should go to me. I'd fight someone over it, but I'd probably do something really ridiculous like get into a tug of war over the trophy, win the war, but end up nailing myself in the face when the other person lost their grip. Things were how they were.

  That's why I wasn't surprised at all that I nearly broke my toe on the edge of the bed when I tried to sneak around it to get to the little side table on the other side of Cole's bed. Or the fact that while I was silently cussing whatever man thought corners on anything was a good idea, and why the hell we hadn't just stuck with round like the wheel, limping like a moron, I then tripped on his enormous ass shoes and actually fell into the window.

  Seriously, I hit with a loud thud and proceeded to screech my way down it slightly when I couldn't get my fucking leverage right. I could only imagine what I looked like from the outside, face smooshed against the glass, hands scrambling against the slippery surface––because my nervous ass palms were sweating like a whore in a church––trying to find purchase while my legs were rendered useless by the ledge of the window digging into my knees. Thank the Lord we were on the third floor and it was dark outside. I didn't need some passerby seeing this shit.

  When I finally managed to stop looking like a homeless cat begging for scraps… from the outside world, I heard rustling in the bed behind me and eased to my feet, fully ready to tell Cole the whole reason I was on this side of his bed, stuck to the window like bug guts was because I was trying to cure my fear of heights… or jump to my death, whichever might be more believable, I found him facing me with his eyes closed.

  I sighed in relief and turned slowly, surveying the last few feet for anything that might in some way pose as a hazard for someone like me and took a deep breath, reaching for Cole's phone.

  Yeah, I was fully aware of just how wrong what I was doing was, but I felt like my moral stability was iffy most of the time anyway, so I wasn't going to worry too much about that.

  Glancing toward my bed, I tried to decide if it would be better to go hide while I did this, so he wouldn't wake up and find me standing over him with the phone in my hand, or if I should stay right where I was since I really did run the risk of tripping over air and falling into the bed with him… and not in a good way.

  I decided to stay right where I was, especially since I wasn't sure if he had a passcode on his phone, and I might very well need that thumb of his.

  Sure enough, there was a passcode when I opened the damn thing, and I bit my lip, trying to decide if I wanted to risk using his hand to open the phone or if I was going to go ahead and make an educated guess on just what his passcode might be.

  "The passcode is 123456," Cole said dryly, making me jump and bobble the damn phone.

  "Fuck!" I managed to get the device in my hand and secure, and I grabbed my heart, turning to glare down at him like I had the right. "What? What are you even talking about? The passcode to…" I paused in my indignant denial to curl my lip at him. "That's the worst passcode ever."

  He shrugged, reaching past me to turn on the light before sitting up and propping himself against the headboard. "I don't even usually have one on my phone, but my nephew kept stealing it while I was at my parents' house this past weekend and calling random people. He's three, so I was pretty sure that one would do the trick."

  "Oh, I think I got a call from him," I said, putting the phone behind my back.

  I had actually gotten a call from what had to be his nephew, but I'd thought it was a butt dial, so I'd simply listened for a while, hoping to hear something juicy I could use against him at a later date, and then hung up a while later when I realized his life must be just as boring as mine. If I'd have known there was a three-year-old on the line, I totally would have talked to him… and exploited him for information.

  "You probably did," he said, shrugging. "I just keep forgetting to take the code off."

  Made sense. Maybe I'd do that for him when I deleted the message. "Okay. Good night."

  I turned, pulling the phone around to the front of me, hoping he'd forget it was in my hand.

  "You planning on deleting that text message before I read it?" Cole asked calmly, raising an eyebrow and smirking when I glanced at him over my shoulder.

  I licked my lips, clutching the phone and turning to face him. "It wasn't meant for you. I was trying to text Ronni, so technically, you shouldn't read it. It would be unethical."

  There you go, Riley. Push that guilt off onto someone else. Make your Momma proud.

  He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. "Hmm. Well, it might've been meant for Ronni, but it came to me. So, technically it's my message now. It's a good lesson for the sender. Watch what you're doing."

  "I was getting the side-eye and was sick of talking to my sister."

  When all he did was continue to watch me, clearly unmoved by my problems, I clenched my teeth, trying desperately to think of something that would possibly sway him.

  "It's about her sex life!" I said quickly, nodding and then slowly shaking my head. "You don't want to hear about that."

  He blinked, staring up at me in disbelief for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe I'll learn a few things."

  Oh, he'd learned a few things all right. Things I'd rather he didn't learn. Things I was desperate for him not to learn. Things that would make me extremely uncomfortable.

  "I'll pay you!" I said, trying to think of anything I might have to offer that he'd want.

  I could always pay him with my body, though that might be a little more for me than it would be for him. But it sure would be fun as fuck.

  "You'll pay me what?" he asked, clearly wondering the same thing.

  I clutched the phone tighter, wondering if I could just break it in my bare hands. Would that erase the text? I didn't think texts were stored in the cloud, but I wasn't necessarily tech-savvy, so I wasn't completely confident in that assumption… not to mention I didn't have the strength to break a fucking egg, much less a damn phone.

  "Let me erase the message without making me feel bad about getting into your phone…" I said slowly, scrambling for anything inside my mind that might be of use to him. And then I remembered. "And I'll make you all the nasty, oatmeal raisin cookies you could ever want. I'll keep you in oatmeal raisin for life."

  He raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes. "If you think they're nasty, then why do you always make them?"

  "Because you love them," I said, frowning. Duh. Wait! Maybe I shouldn't have admitted that. Did it reveal too much
that I made him oatmeal raisin cookies when I literally didn't know anyone else in the whole world who ate them?

  His eyes narrowed slightly like he might be reaching the conclusion I was hoping he wouldn't, but he simply shook his head. "And I'm not trying to make you feel bad. If you feel bad, maybe it's because you were sneaking around in the middle of the night trying to get into my phone so you could erase my messages."

  I scoffed, shaking my head. "That's not what I was doing, and you know it."

  Okay, sure. I might have thought about looking through his phone, and possibly seeing if there was anyone he was paying any special attention to. And maybe going through his pictures and seeing… Okay, clearly, I'd had some questionable actions in mind, and probably people shouldn't trust me with anything personal they didn't want me going through, because I was definitely a nosey fucker, but still. I wasn't planning on erasing any other message aside from the one he was never supposed to receive.

  "Okay," he said after a long moment, his eyes trained on me and a small smile on his mouth.

  I waited, tilting my head to the side. "Okay, what?"

  He lifted his arms, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, highlighting his thick shoulders and biceps, while stretching out his ribs and pecs, inviting my stupid eyes to dance along his form.

  Really not what I need right now. You could at least try not to be so fucking sexy when I'm about to have a mental breakdown.

  "Okay, you can erase the message."

  I licked my lips, narrowing my eyes on his face, trying to block out his delicious body in hopes I could concentrate. Not that looking at his face was really any better for my concentration, especially with that mouth. The things I could do to defile that mouth.

  But thoughts like that were exactly why I was in this predicament in the first place.

  "Really?" I asked carefully, waiting for the hook.

  When you came from a family like mine, you learned really early in life that there was always a hook.

  "Yep."