Page 36 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

I thought I heard him mutter, “Stupid ball,” but wasn’t sure and had to stop a laugh before it escaped.

Danger Zone’s second shot was a little too hard, but it did get over the hill and down to the statue, where it promptly bounced out of bounds.

Category two advanced to category three.

I wanted to touch his arm to steer him in the right direction or grab his hand and drag him behind me, but I didn’t do either of those things. Instead, I waved and walked away. “Don’t worry,I’ll show you what to do. Come on.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, as if someone was watching me. I could only assume it was Danger Zone, but that could be because he was following me.

Was it wrong that I was wondering if he was admiring me from behind? Even with Marissa’s declaration, I’d put on my favorite jeans—the ones Victoria had picked out and that made my butt look fantastic, even it if was plus-sized.

We moved past the rusted-out ship, which actually looked pretty cool, and down the hill to the Statue of Liberty.

I pointed at my ball. “The rule is that whoever is the closest to the hole goes next. That’s so no one can hit your ball out of the way.” I grinned. “That’s what you do in croquet.” I gestured to the flag. “Will you grab that?”

“Croquet?” Danger Zone asked as he yanked the pole out of the hole.

“An outdoor lawn game kind of like this.” I lined up my shot and took it. The ball moved toward where the flag had been, then slowed as it hit the tiny hill guarding the hole. I glared at the ball, willing it to go in.

It stopped an inch from the target and rolled back a good foot.

“Dang it,” I muttered as I stomped toward the ball and hit it in. “Notice the rise all the way around the hole. It will throw you off.” I squatted down and grabbed my ball. “Your turn.”

Danger Zone’s gaze moved to his ball, which was outside of the green.

“Right. Sorry.” I walked over to him. “This is what I do. I draw an imaginary line from where the ball is to the hole, then I set the ball on the green six inches away from the wall.” I demonstrated, then straightened and found Danger Zone studying me.

Those eyes and that intense gaze were going to be the deathof me. I cleared my throat. “Going out of bounds automatically gives you an extra stroke.”

“But we’re only playing three holes,” he said.

I pulled my phone out. “We’re still keeping track. My score is three.”

Danger Zone slid past me and lined up his shot. He took more time and seemed to be calculating. Then, he swiveled back, just like I’d taught him, and swung the club.

Instead of speeding off, or only moving a few feet, which is what often happened, his ball rolled toward the cup, up the hill, and teetered on the edge for a second before tumbling in. Danger Zone straightened up and gave me a smug smile. “Even with the penalty, I believe that was three.”

Did this guy want to challenge me? He had no idea who he was dealing with, and boss or no boss, I wasn’t about to let him beat me. I put his score on my phone and met his gaze. “Lucky shot.”

“We’ll see.”

Chapter 12

-Peter-

I’d spent a lot of time observing people. Not in a creepy way. I hoped not anyway.

Jessica probably felt like someone was watching her—because I was. Like a hawk. I learned by watching and then imitating, and Jessica was a treasure trove of information.

She was obviously familiar with this game and would likely beat me, but she wasn’t shy about explaining what she was doing or about doing her best.

On the second hole, she’d ended up with a score of two, and I’d had four. No more out-of-bounds issues, but the obstacles and hills were making it difficult for me.

Golf was a game that every executive had to play, so I knew a little about putting. Although, all of that knowledge had disappeared from my mind as soon as we’d arrived, but it was slowly coming back. Which meant if I could get close to the hole, I’d win. However, I was struggling with the path to get there.

Jessica, on the other hand, seemed to relish each challenge and simply laughed or responded with exaggerated anger when it didn’t work out.

I filed away laughing as a reaction. It wasn’t my style, but I could come up with an equivalent.

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