Page 2 of A Ticking Time Boss

A small bowl of complimentary peanuts is pushed into my field of vision. “Just in case.”

The gesture makes me chuckle. It comes out like a nervous squeak, but it releases some of the tension rising up inside of me like a teapot.

“Thank you,” I say, turning toward him.

Light, tawny eyes meet mine. I’ve never seen eyes like that on a man before. Hair a dark shade of auburn is pushed back over his forehead, rising over a square face. “If you’re planning on having a panic attack,” he says, “I can think of better places than this bar.”

“I’m not having a panic attack. Besides, who plans on having one?”

“It’s just a figure of speech.”

“It’s a stupid one,” I say, and smooth my hands over my dress. Then I realize what I’ve just said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He turns toward me, his lips curling at the corner. He’s tall, now that’s he’s stretched to his full height. “I’m not insulted.”

“Good. Well… thank you for the peanuts.”

“You’re welcome, although I have a confession to make. They were already here.”

I snort again. Perhaps this is good. I can blow off steam with this Wall Street banker. “I suspected. Nice gesture, though.”

He waves a hand at the bartender, who turns mid-stride to listen to whatever peanut guy has to say. I glance at his suit. He looks like money. It’s there in the well-fitting fabric, glossy beneath the dim lights. I don’t trust guys who look like him. Too charming to be real, and too rich to be humble.

“Another water for the lady,” he says. “Lots of ice, no lemon. You know the drill.”

The bartender nods. “Coming right up.”

He disappears down the bar and peanut guy turns back to me.

I frown at him. “You didn’t say please.”

His eyebrows rise. “I’m sorry?”

“To the bartender.” I’m speaking more frankly than usual, especially to a stranger, but my nerves have me turned upside down. My cheeks heat up. “I mean, it’s just more polite to say please.”

“Noted,” peanut guy says. He leans against the bar, lips still quirked. “Although, I’m sure that bartender has seen people far ruder than me in his days.”

“That’s not an excuse to be rude going forward.”

“I tip generously,” he says. “Always have.”

“Flinging money around doesn’t make up for a lack of manners.”

“So now I’m lacking manners? Interesting.”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I’m implying. Gosh, can we ignore where I tried to correct you? I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

He doesn’t look the least bit offended. “Not particularly.”

The bartender returns with a full glass of ice water and puts it down in front of me. I open my mouth to say thank you, but peanut guy beats me to it.

“Thank you,” he says, voice dropping. “We really appreciate your help here tonight.”

The bartender doesn’t stop moving down the bar. “Anytime,” he tosses over his shoulder.

Peanut guy turns to me with a triumphant smile. “Am I back in your good graces now?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

---