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

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 went off.

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.

She handed the microphone back to Peter, who held up his hand. “Your three hours starts…” He paused. “Now!”

Peter lowered his arm, and chaos erupted.

“Peter, Peter!” Marissa tried to drive herself forward and managed to get out of my grasp, but she was headed straight for the edge of the platform, so I lunged forward and stopped her.

“Let go, you fat cow!” she screeched over her shoulder at me.

I didn’t let go, but I stared at her in shock.

There was too much noise for many people to notice, which was a good thing, because if a bunch of employees had been staring at me, I might have shoved Marissa forward and watched her crash.

Fat cow?

Marissa had made plenty of allusions to my weight in the past but never anything like this. I’d always wondered if she had a problem with curvy women. Apparently, she did.

“He isn’t yours,” Marissa said in a low growl. Her eyes darted to Peter, and I got the sick feeling that she knew we’d been making out in the office the night before.

Peter was there in a second. His expression thundered at a category five, but his words were calm. “Lance is here to make sure you get to see as much as possible.” He took hold of the wheelchair and pulled Marissa back.

“No!” Marissa didn’t quite screech this time, but her tone was high and, once again, desperate.

Half of the girls in the office had an ongoing bet that Lance had been a model before he’d come to work with us. He was single, funny, and an absolute delight to look at with his feathery blond hair and chiseled jaw.

Marissa sneered at him as if he not only wore rags but also smelled like an outhouse, then looked up at Peter and pawed at his arm. “You should take me around. This retreat was our thing.”

Marissa flashed a quick glare at me, and I gritted my teeth.

Where Peter found the Zen to keep his cool, I’d never know. He moved in front of her and knelt down on one knee. “Marissa, I’m going to be checking in with each team. We’ll be moving fast, and we’ll be in the thick of the activity.” He touched her cast. “You’re recovering. We can’t risk anyone accidentally bumping you.”

She sniffed, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“Lance has agreed to make sure you talk to as many people as possible in the next hour, then you’re going home.”

Marissa jerked away from Peter. “No!”

The muscles in Peter’s cheeks jumped as he clenched his jaw.

To my surprise, Amelia intervened. “Marissa, I need you in tip-top shape and back at work as soon as possible. When I came to visit, your doctor said you’re not even supposed to be out of bed, let alone out in public.”

Marissa sniffed.

“You must be in a lot of pain.” Amelia put her hand on Marissa’s shoulder. “In an hour, you’re going home.”

“I need to stay.” Marissa reached for Peter.

He leaned away and shook his head.

Lance, who had watched all of this with obvious curiosity, jumped up and got behind Marissa. “Come on, let’s go judge people harshly.” Before Marissa could protest too loudly, Lance turned her around and took her down the ramp at the other end of the stage.

An awkward silence surrounded me, and I didn’t want to look at anyone.

I wasn’t particularly ashamed of my weight—this was me, and I’d tried just about everything to be thin, but since nothing had worked, I’d long ago embraced my outer curvy girl. However, getting called a fat cow in front of the executive staff of the company I worked for hadn’t ever happened before. I had no words.

I wanted to back away and disappear and not be seen until the next Monday.

Tyrell broke the silence. “Hopefully that was the pain killers.”

“Hopefully.” Amelia’s voice sounded tight.

Peter moved next to me, heedless of who was there, and put his hand on my back. “Ignore her.”

I nodded, because I didn’t know what else to do.

Was I mad? You bet I was, but I was worried that this wasn’t the end of what Marissa would do to me to get to Peter. I also pitied her. She’d obviously liked Peter for a long time, and she believed I’d taken him from her, which was true. She was heartbroken and angry, and broken, angry women did irrational things.

Peter guided me down the stairs. “We have a lot of people to visit within the next three hours, are you up for it?”

I’d never imagined Peter being my rock, but here we were. We reached the nearest team who were already tying boxes of pasta together and clamping them to their ramp. They had enough pink fabric piled to one side to satisfy the most princessy of princesses, and the four people talked and laughed and poked fun at each other.

“What’s your theme?” Peter asked.

One woman stood. “Cotton candy.” She held out a drawing of their plan, and I studied it, trying to get my mind off of Marissa.

It didn’t help that I could hear her high-pitched voice and her cackling laugh from across the room.

The center of their hole consisted of a spiral ramp that sat in the midst of a funnel of pink fabric.

“You’re sure someone can get a hole-in-one?” Peter asked.

“We all did it yesterday,” the woman said. “Even though these ramps are a little steeper than the ones we had, it should still be doable.

Peter nodded, then his fingers brushed my back and we moved on.

After a few holes, I got my brain working again. I warmed up to talking to people and started asking more questions so Peter wouldn’t have to do all the work.

Most teams seemed excited, and a few people were already talking about winning the awards.

As we moved from hole to hole, my eyes would drift to Marissa, who looked to me to be putting on a performance for anyone watching.

Lance took it all in stride and kept her moving.

Unfortunately, unless her hour expired before we crossed paths, we were on a collision course.

Peter must have noticed, because he went in a different direction. I caught Marissa’s gaze at that moment, and her expression rivaled Peter’s category five.

Instead of letting her get to me, I took a moment to text my friends.

Jessica: Remember the shrew? She literally called me a fat cow in front of the whole company.

I cringed when I noticed my hands were shaking.

Ashley: She did what?

Brooke: Pretty sure she can be fired for that.

Teresa: Did you punch her?

I snorted.

Jessica: Ashley is the punching girl.

Ashley: I do have big guns.

We’d arrived at the next stop, so I sent a quick reply.

Jessica: I’m in the middle of mini golf right now, but I had to share, mostly so I wouldn’t push her off a cliff. More later.

I put my phone away, and each time it buzzed, I imagined it was one of my friends sending a thumbs up or a fighting gif.

“Is this going to be a volcano?” Peter asked when we arrived at the next group.

I shot them the evil eye. These guys had been the ones with the fake smoke.

The guy in charge gave me a sheepish look. “Sure is.”

At least they’d taken Catherine’s chewing them out to heart. I didn’t see the smoke machine anywhere.

“We, uh, got some dry ice,” he said to me.

“Good plan,” I said.

What could only be called a ruckus broke out in the far corner of the ballroom.

Peter’s head jerked in that direction, and I followed his gaze.

I’d hoped that an asthmatic reaction would be the worst thing that would happen today, but when I saw open flames, I knew that we’d leveled up.

“Is that real?” the volcano guy asked.

I wanted to deny it, but unless it was one heck of an illusion, we were in trouble.

A split-second later his question was answered when someone screamed, “Fire!”