Page 42 of Playboy Boss

“All right, then. I’ll take your silly bet.” Konrad pulled a Montblanc pen from his jacket pocket. “Prepare to lose.”

First, Konrad wrote:

September Hookups

He sighed as the women came forth to his mind. Hell, it was just the beginning of the month. Shit. He didn’t like this game. Despite the anxiety rippling through him, making him queasy, he continued writing his list.

H Bar Bartendress

Tamsin

Anisette

Hot Yoga Instructor at gym

Pilar

Greek Starbucks Barista on West Gray Ave.

Temp S.R.

His heart stopped. Bloody hell. Seven women. He remembered he’d shagged a couple of them on the same day. And two he didn’t even remember their names. Guilt and disgust seared through him. And when his gaze came to a stop on Temp S.R., he felt like the worst person in the world. He couldn’t even spell out her whole name. Too much shame fell on him. If she knew she was on a running list of hookups, she’d hate him more than she probably already did. Sick to his stomach, he lost his appetite.

“Time’s up.” Dallas held up his napkin. All entries had names. All four of them.

Just then, the waitress arrived with two drinks on her round tray and set them down on the table. “I’ll be back to take your orders.” She walked away to tend to another table nearby.

“Only four? Dallas, you’re slipping.” Konrad turned over his napkin. He was too ashamed to look at it anymore. “I concede. I’m the bigger animal.”

Dallas grabbed Konrad’s napkin, reading with an amused look on his face. “Greek Starbucks Barista on West Gray Ave.?”

Konrad snatched the napkin and shoved it into his suit pocket, along with his pen. “Sod off.”

Dallas nearly fell over from laughing, but then he stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. That last one.”

Konrad’s heart raced. “Yeah?” Nervously, he glanced back to the waitress, signaling for her. He needed an interruption.

“Did it say ‘Temp S.R.’?”

Konrad took a hefty gulp. Intoxication needed to come immediately. In the meantime, he refused to acknowledge the question.

“Kon, did you screw your waitress-temp, Scottie?” His voice rose a bit.

Konrad met his demanding gaze. Deny it? Admit it? He didn’t know which was smarter. “She’s not a waitress.”

Dallas’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you?”

Dallas was the only one who knew about Scottie, and Konrad needed to unburden himself. “Yes.”

Realization came over Dallas. “Last night. You were with Scottie, weren’t you?”

“Not exactly. I was at happy hour with my employees like I told you.” He took another sip of scotch. The waitress interrupted, for which he was grateful. They each ordered twenty-dollar burgers and resumed the conversation once she’d left. Konrad sighed, feeling more burdened than before he came clean to Dallas, and he didn’t want to think of eating anything. “Scottie was at the happy hour. I walked her to her car. And…”

“Dude, please don’t tell me you fucked her in the car.”

“Fuck off.” Konrad felt the heat of anger rise through him. He calmed himself. “No, I did not fuck her in the car. That’s so fucking crude, mate.”

“Sorry.” Dallas lifted his hands in defense.

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