Page 35 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

And then there had been that…moment…between us.

I’d like to say I hadn’t even thought about how close we had been, but that would be a lie. I’d noticed the warmth of his arms and the light scent of his cologne, not to mention the fact that he’d refused to look at me.

However, when I’d glanced up and found him watching me with the intensity of a tiger about to pounce, I’d panicked.

“Is this yours?” a young man asked, waving Danger Zone’s blue ball at us.

“Over here!” I waved back.

The kid threw it, and I caught it. “Thanks!”

Danger Zone grunted. “We should go.”

He sounded upset. He looked upset. His whole reaction resembled a trauma response, something I’d dealt with when Ashley had been my roommate. I could handle this.

I didn’t want this to be his only mini golf experience. I also didn’t want this to be his only experience with me outside of work. So I reached out and grabbed his elbow as he tried to walk away.

“Hold on there,” I said. “We’re not finished.”

Danger Zone’s light brown eyes bore into mine. The muscles in his cheeks writhed as he ground his teeth, and my fingers tightened around his tricep.

Basically, this guy was one lean muscle after another, and it might be a good thing that he didn’t dig curvy girls.

“That was your first shot. It’s fine that it went awry.” I pointed at the group of kids who had retrieved his ball. “They’re not bothered. This happens all the time. Someone usually ends up in a water hazard.” My finger then turned to indicate a nearby mini lake. “So relax.” I smiled. It was an involuntary reaction to his discomfort. Then I offered him his blue ball. “Try again.”

Danger Zone studied me. His category four grumpy face didn’t loosen up, and his nostrils flared. He wanted to go, but he knew he should stay.

I continued to hold his ball out. “You need to experience this before the retreat.”

“Making bookshelves is still an option,” he grumbled under his breath.

“This is more fun.” Now I grabbed his hand—ignoring the icy fire that ran up my forearm at the contact—and slapped the ballinto his palm. “Three holes and then we can go.”

“Three?” he asked, a sliver of hope in his voice.

“Just three. Then, if you want, we can leave.”

Danger Zone’s chest rose and fell as if he’d just finished sprinting down the street.

“This can be fun.”

After another couple of seconds, Danger Zone’s fingers curled around the ball.

It almost seemed like he was going to hold my hand, but I let go before that happened. There was no way I was going to fall any further for the guy. This was business, not pleasure.

At least, not that kind of pleasure.

Watching my grumpy boss fight with a little ball might be the most fun I’d had in ages.

Danger Zone huffed, and his scowl downgraded to a category two. “Acceptable.”

“Atta boy.” I refrained from patting him on the back as he returned to the tee mat. “I’ll even give you a couple of test shots, so you can experiment.”

“How kind of you,” he said in a flat voice.

“I know.”

He huffed again, lined up for a shot, and hit the ball, this time with much less force. But it wasn’t enough to get it up the hill, and it rolled back down.

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