The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss (Curvy Girl Crew #7)

Chapter 9

-Jessica-

I’d never lost it like that with Danger Zone.

Actually, I hadn’t lost it like that in years.

What was wrong with me?

A little voice in my head intruded. He started it.

He had, I conceded as I stomped to the break room, but did that give me the right to stoop to his level? I hadn’t realized that I was so sensitive about Marissa’s declaration that he didn’t like curvy girls. It had me rethinking everything he’d said. Why bring up body types? And why attack me when he was overwhelmed, or whatever he was feeling?

Right now, he was probably rethinking the raise he’d given me as well as my continued employment.

I threw my food down on one of the many small round tables and sat.

Had I been fooling myself about Danger Zone all this time? So many people claimed he was terse to the point of being rude, but I’d never seen it. Not like what had just happened.

It had never been directed at me.

I thought of Brooke. She was sweet as honey, until she decided she had a bone to pick with you, then she was terrifying.

As if my friend had known I was thinking about her, I got a text from Brooke.

Brooke: Are we still hanging out tonight?

We’d found a dress she liked, then had gone back to my apartment to watch a chick flick and had downed more popcorn and ice cream than any two people should in a week.

Jessica: I’m surprised you can even move after all that ice cream.

Brooke: Child’s play.

I laughed, and for a moment didn’t feel like destroying anything.

Brooke: So, pie tonight?

I loved that she knew pie was my favorite.

Jessica: We’re going to need a lot of pie to fix my day.

Several people came into the break room and eyed me suspiciously. Probably because I usually stayed at my desk during lunch. However, I wasn’t about to leave now, so I broke open my take-out containers and started eating.

Brooke: Tell me. William left early this morning, and it’s too muddy to ride the horses.

What should I say? I did my job too well, which made my boss mad for some reason, then he threw me out of his office, and now I’m pouting in the break room?

Actually, I decided to give her exactly those details, but with an explanation about the retreat as well.

Brooke: Wow. Big day so far.

Jessica: And it’s only 12:24.

Brooke: What’s your plan?

I sighed and took a big bite of butter chicken. It was perfect—full of rich flavors and subtle spices—but it also tasted bitter. Or maybe that was the dismissal I’d just received.

Jessica: Finish lunch, then go back to my desk.

Brooke: You can’t let him choose the activity by himself.

I snorted and ripped a section of naan off with my teeth, as if this vicious display of prowess would somehow help.

Jessica: Why not?

Brooke: Because he’s clearly floundering.

Jessica: That’s his problem.

I felt bad typing the response, but I was done repressing my emotions.

I’d done an amazing job putting all those new ideas for a company event together in just a few hours, and I knew it. The presentation had been excellent. Short. Simple. Practically elegant.

But something about it had hit Danger Zone the wrong way, and he’d taken it out on me.

Which wasn’t okay.

Maybe it was better that he didn’t dig curvy girls.

Brooke: I’m about to marry a billionaire who hates some of the aspects of business. He’s a sweetheart unless he’s struggling with a difficult decision. Since you haven’t seen this behavior from DZ before, I’d guess it’s a fear response.

This isn’t what I wanted to hear.

Jessica: Whose side are you on?

Brooke: Yours, of course. However, I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once.

I shoved the last of my butter chicken into my mouth and chewed as aggressively as I could. Men who were jerks didn’t get second chances from me. They usually didn’t even get first chances.

A voice inside my head whispered, But this is Danger Zone.

Indifferent Danger Zone , I reminded myself.

Why did I care how he acted?

My work tablet flashed, telling me I had an email. I typed a quick reply to Brooke.

Jessica: I’ll consider it.

Brooke: And I’ll meet you at your place with whipped cream and pie from that place near the theater district tonight.

Jessica: My hero.

I swiped my tablet to life and glared when I saw the notification.

Danger Zone had sent me a message through the company’s messaging system.

Peter: I think we should consider both the bookshelf and mini golf options.

I stared at the words. Blood roared through my ears. My hand shook as I clicked on the text.

That was it. That was the whole message.

No apology.

No acknowledgment about all the work I’d put into the options.

No gratitude.

Had I somehow hurt his feelings?

Did I care?

Brooke had suggested that I give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once. Fine, I could do that, but I’d proceed with caution from now on.

I took a breath and focused on the topic of the message.

He’d picked two good options for the activity, but we would have to narrow it down to one eventually.

For mini golf, we would split everyone into teams of four, give them a set amount of money with which they would then go buy nonperishable food. With that food, each team would build a mini golf hole. Everyone from the company could play through the course, and at the end, there would be prizes for most food bought, most fun hole, easiest hole-in-one, and whatever else we decided to judge on. Then, after the activity, we would take the food to a local food bank. I’d suggested we focus on kids who didn’t get meals before or after school.

The bookshelf activity would be simpler, but less fun. The company would buy bookshelves and have them at the retreat. The employees would assemble the shelves for schools, kids, people, or hospitals—or whatever else we chose—and then take them to their new homes. I’d suggested that people also provide books to go with the shelves.

Each of the things could be split into multiple phases, which could accommodate people who liked different things. Some could shop. Others could assemble or build. Others still could play the game or deliver the final offerings.

Everyone should have fun. We’d help locals in need. They were both a win-win.

Only, I didn’t want to give Danger Zone the satisfaction of validation just now.

Was I being childish? You bet I was. Did Danger Zone deserve worse? You bet he did.

I glanced at the clock. Danger Zone had three minutes before his next meeting. If I had to guess, I’d say he wanted an answer from me before that.

To my surprise, he sent another message.

Peter: I’d like to apologize for my earlier behavior.

I read the message, blinked, read it again, and shook my head. Why did I hear the words in his smooth, silky voice? I wasn’t ready to let it go, but I felt my resolve soften.

Peter: You did an excellent job with your suggestions. I prefer the mini golf option, but I’ve never played. I would like to experience it before we make a final decision.

What did that mean? I jumped when more came through.

Peter: Would you be willing to accompany me to a mini golf course this evening?

I stared at the message with my mouth hanging open.

What was Danger Zone doing? Asking me on a date?

No.

That couldn’t be it.

But reading the words again I had to admit, that’s what it sounded like.

I couldn’t handle this and quickly typed a reply.

Jessica: I’ve got plans tonight with a friend who’s in from out of town.

Thank goodness for Brooke. That should stop this madness.

Danger Zone didn’t let up.

Peter: Would she be willing to join us? The more opinions we get the better.

I narrowed my eyes at my phone. So it wasn’t a date, but an experiment for work? Did I want to play? Or run?

Did I want to spend several hours outside of the office with the man I’d been crushing on since I’d met him and had recently found out had a problem with any woman who wasn’t the size of a supermodel?

Actually, I kind of did. And I bet Brooke would be willing to accompany me.

Jessica: She might.

Peter: I’ll send you the information. Will you please let me know by three this afternoon?

It seemed Danger Zone had been prepared for this conversation, because another message with a link immediately appeared.

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. He’d chosen a place called The Catastrophe Course.

Hopefully Brooke didn’t mind a mini golf course with the theme of movies in which New York was attacked or destroyed.