Free Unlikely Allies by C. C. Koen Page B

chaos.
    “Shit.” Kat rushed to Cece, scooped her up and over to a trash can, ignoring the splattered mess on Cece’s overalls and the gook that now stuck to Kat’s Westlake shirt.
    “Take that wretched little—”
    Rick held up his arm, cutting Grandfather off. His glare communicated he’d better not say any more. For once the grouch listened and turned tail, shaking his left and then right shoe, grumbling on his way out about the business being in the gutter by year’s end.
    Before Kat could whisk her niece away, he ducked down to get a good look at Cece. He set his hand on her back, rubbing up and down. “How you feeling?” Brushing a lock of red hair out of her eyes, he swiped his thumb along her flushed cheek.
    “My tummy hurts.”
    “Yeah? Mine would too if I spun like that.”
    Cece reached up, her hand coming to rest under his chin. “I take care a ya.”
    The stab to his heart caused the air in his lungs to gush out and blow across her face, flitting tiny, sweaty curls back and forth and clinging along her temple.
    “I’d better get her in the bathroom and cleaned up.” Kat walked around him, carrying Cece toward the Westlake office.
    With her fingers pressed to her thumb, Cece’s duckbill-shaped goodbye and chubby-cheeked smile over Kat’s shoulders kept him at his secretary’s desk unable to move until she disappeared.
    “Oh, my,” Mrs. Collins said behind him.
    He looked at the lumpy globs on the carpeted floor.
    “I’ll get something to clean that up,” Mrs. Collins chimed, not showing the least upset about the mess sprayed around her desk.
    “No, I’ll take care of it.”
    A pat on his shoulder pulled his attention to his secretary. “I can do it. This could take a while. Besides, you have a meeting in an hour.” She pointed to his pant leg. “And you need to get cleaned up too.”
    Since he didn’t have time to rush home to change and often needed to be ready for any occasion, a walk-in closet in his office, which he’d stocked with professional and casual wear, came in handy. A bathroom with a shower in his suite also made it easy to get refreshed at the last minute.
    Unwilling to have Mrs. Collins take care of something that had nothing to do with her job, he went hunting for paper towels and garbage bags stored in the break room. When he returned with his hands full, Mrs. Collins was already on her knees with gloves up to her elbows and a bucket at her side. The ammonia hit him. “Whoa, that stinks.” After setting the supplies on the spotless half of her desk, he grabbed her arm, stopping her from doing any more cleanup.
    “More than vomit?” she mocked, pinching his bicep. “I told you to leave it.”
    “When do I ever listen?” he countered, pecking her on the temple.
    She dropped the rag in the pail and faced him, her eyes softening. “You’re a good boy. Don’t worry about your grandfather. He wants the best for you and doesn’t know how to communicate it as well as your dad.”
    For the second time his chest constricted, in this case, a reminder of his supportive father and how he always knew the right thing to say.
    He ripped the paper towels off the roll and dove in, mopping up and dumping clumps in the trash. Before he knew it the floor, chair, and desk were spotless. His sweaty shirt and pants stuck to his skin, and he reeked of sour milk and who knew what else. His lower back had stiffened from being bent over for so long. He stood and rubbed it.
    “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Stone. You left this at the restaurant.”
    Exhausted and annoyed, he rocked back on his heels and turned toward Maggie. She set a folder on Mrs. Collins’s desk and said, “Um, you don’t look so good.” Her unnecessary reminder pricked the hair on the back of his neck. She pinched her nose. “What happened?” Her nasally, muffled question pissed him off, and his control evaporated.
    “Well, let’s see.” He swiped the moisture off his upper lip, needing a minute to figure out what