Arrogant Boss

And I needed to figure out a way to date Emily Giordano.

“Emily?””Yes?”

Josef leaned against the door to my office, Sasha peering around his shoulder. “A bunch of us are heading down to Shoots and Hoops after work.”

“You should come!”

“Are those for our meeting later?” I nodded at the big box of donuts Josef was holding.

“Yep.” Sasha leaned down and took a whiff. “Honey-glazed.”

I could basically feel myself salivating. “Have I said how much I enjoy working here?”

“Yes. Repeatedly.” Josef grinned. “Anyway, the entire team is going for drinks after work, and that includes you. No excuses, Giordano.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to. I knew that Turner wouldn’t mind, and he was an adult now. Technically, I didn’t need to be home every evening anymore. But it didn’t feel right to stop-and not when it was my night to cook dinner.

But I had to let go someday.

Last week I saw that he’d circled a few ads for apartments for rent in the newspaper. If he decided to move out-which he could, with his ample salary-I’d have to adjust.

“Sure. Of course, I’ll join you.”

“Awesome! We head out around six.”

I shot Turner a text and received, predictably enough, a positive response. He’d pointed out more than once that he didn’t think I spent enough time with friends, not in comparison to what he perceived to be normal in others. Yeah, I know. High standards to live up to.

Shoots and Hoops turned out to be a pool and dart bar, and I had to give it to the place, the marketing was on point: their logo was a bullseye.

The beer was served in German-looking glasses, the music on full blast was old, and the bar stools all wobbled.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I loved it.

“Cheers to a damn good month!” Trent declared as we toasted. My glass was filled to the brim, so full I couldn’t stop some from running over the rim.

“And to the newest addition to the team,” Sasha added and tilted her beer towards me in acknowledgment. A solid mouthful gushed out and over Trent.

“Shit!” He scrambled to wipe at the stain on his jeans as Sasha turned beet red. I handed them a few napkins and thought, not for the first time, that something had to be going on between them.

“We’re still waiting for one person.” Rachel glanced over her shoulder. “If he even shows up.”

Josef frowned. “Who? The whole team is here.”

“Bossman said he’d swing by after whatever event or dinner he’s attending tonight.”

“Yeeeeees!” Trent gave a victorious fist pump. “I need a chance to exact revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Yes, in dart. He won last time we were here, but I’ve been practicing since then.”

“Good luck with that,” Rachel snorted.

Josef wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at all of us. “I wonder what hot date he’s been out on tonight.”

The others broke out into laughter and I forced myself to join. I’d seen it when I googled him; images of Julian Hunt in perfectly made suits with beautiful women on his arm. I had no doubt he regularly turned those eyes and that smile on anyone who caught his interest.

“We can’t live our lives waiting for the boss,” I said. “Come on. Next round of shots is on me.”

The group responded with hollers and shouts, and for a moment I just grinned. I’d never really had a group of friends like this. During my time at community college, I worked part-time and was busy taking care of Turner, who’d only been fourteen when our parents died. It was high time I made sure to take every opportunity that came my way to have fun.

That included learning how to play darts, which Trent was apparently a self-proclaimed expert at.

“The key is to balance the dart perfectly between your two fingers, like this…” He demonstrated with a feathered dart. “You keep your eye glued to the bullseye… and then you throw.”

He missed it with a solid two inches and let out a suffering sigh. “Sometimes you hit. Sometimes you don’t.”

Rachel laughed beside him. “And you call yourself an athlete!”

“I most certainly never have.”

“Sure you have,” she pointed out. “Last time we were here you said you could have gone pro if you hadn’t suffered a knee injury.”

Trent rolled his eyes at her and handed me a dart. “She remembers everything,” he told me in a hushed whisper. “Avoid her at all costs.”

I laughed and watched as he threw another dart. This time he only missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Damn!”

“So close,” I told him. “Let me try.”

I held the dart carefully in one hand, shifted my weight to my right leg and did as Trent said-I kept my eye glued to the little red dot in the middle of the board.

It went wide, landing along the green outer rim, only scoring me a measly ten points.

A familiar, husky laugh rang out behind me. “I think you all need to be taught how this is done.”

Trent grinned. “Glad you could make it. I need that rematch.”

“You can have a shot at it, at least,” Julian said. “I won’t give up the title as reigning champion without a fight.”

I glanced in his direction and then back at the dart board. Dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a white shirt, he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and undone the top button. No tie, no blazer, and his hair curled down over his forehead in a deliciously thick wave. Men shouldn’t be allowed to walk around like that without a goddamn warning label.

I handed the darts back to Trent without acknowledging our boss standing right there beside us. “I’m heading back to the table. Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Trent grinned. “I’ll make sure our team wins.”

I felt Julian’s eyes on my back as I headed back to our table.