Page 70 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

This was it. In a few hours, I’d be free of the retreat disaster and off for a week. Mrs. Santos had agreed to let me hide in her store as much as I wanted to, and I was looking forward to it more than I could say.

Until then, I had an activity to run.

Chapter 21

-Jessica-

I hadn’t thought through how I was going to deal with the other woman who had a crush on my boss.

Marissa had protested me helping her, but I hadn’t given her a choice. She’d tried to roll away from me, but I held her fast. I’d been desperate over a man before, and unless the crazed look in her eye was only pain killers, she was desperate for Peter’s attention.

Attention he didn’t have time to give.

“Good morning,” Peter said into the microphone. He didn’t smile, but he exuded calm and confidence. The exact opposite of what I suspected his emotions actually were. “Welcome to our revised company retreat.”

A few people laughed, and others clapped.

Peter went on. “As you all know, because you thoroughly read the emails I sent, your team will have three hours to build a miniature golf hole. Once three hours is up, we will all play through the holes and vote for your favorites.”

Chuckles rippled through the audience at the jab about the emails.

“There are a few rules.” Peter held up a hand and started ticking off fingers. “First, you can only use what you brought and what we provided. No last minute runs to the store.”

I noticed a handful of panicked faces.

Marissa spoke in a low voice. “He seems stressed.”

I didn’t answer.

Peter went on. “Second, you need a combination of two turns or obstacles in your hole, but it has to be possible to get a hole-in-one.”

“Take me to him,” Marissa hissed.

“Right now?” I whispered, keeping my fingers tight around the handles of her wheelchair.

“Yes,” she insisted.

“No.”

Peter was going over the third rule. “When you vote, you can’t vote for your own team. Fourth, there are six other prizes up here, including one for whoever gets the lowest score on the playthrough, best theme as determined by management, and best use of your food stuffs.”

If I hadn’t gotten to know Peter so well in the past week, I might have missed the fact that he’d obviously rehearsed this speech beforehand. Now I could tell when he was talking freely, as opposed to when he was reciting something from his memory.

He checked his watch. “You’ll have three hours, starting in just a few seconds, to make this happen.” He glanced at Amelia. “Do you have anything to add?”

She smiled and took the microphone from Peter. “Guys, you’ve all worked so hard to make this company successful. I had my assistant pull the numbers, and we’ve made over six hundred million dollars for our clients, who range from casual investors to billionaires. Each of them has benefited from your hard work, and each of them will have an easier retirement because of you. So thank you.”

Applause broke out, and even though I didn’t work directly with clients, I felt good about what we had accomplished.

“Also, the foundation we’re donating the food to has sent a video as a thank you.” Amelia waved a hand, and the lights wentoff.

The video was short and filled with adorable children living in questionable conditions. Some of the kids who had benefitted from the program told their stories and about how they often had only received one meal a day, and that meal had been from this foundation.

I heard plenty of sniffing, and even Tyrell wiped his eyes at the end. I hadn’t anticipated the powerful message, and it gave me an idea. An idea that would have to go on the back burner for a bit.

Amelia gave everyone a minute to recover before she grinned. “You all should know, I fancy myself a pretty good putter, and I’ve got that lowest score trophy in my sights. I’m betting none of you can beat me.”

I almost laughed out loud. Amelia certainly knew how to get people engaged. A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd at her statement, and I heard more than one person say they were going to waste her.

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