Page 34 of Miss Understanding

I simply shrugged, returning his smirk. “Great, then Chelsea and I can share.”

We were about to start when Allison shouted toward us. “You two should bet something on the game.” Her cheeks were rosy from the alcohol.

Warren, her husband, had already pronounced her a lightweight and had fetched her a glass of water to try to offset the effects. Clearly, this hadn’t done much yet to settle her down.

But the idea of a bet made my boss smile. “You any good?” he challenged.

Nope. Not at all. Much to his amusement, I changed my selection to the eight-pound pink ball. I might need the extra two pounds. “Go big or go home, Mr. Davenport. Now, what shall we bet?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Oh, damn. The way his husky voice hit me conjured up thoughts completely inappropriate for family time or a boss.

As if he could read my mind, his brow quirked.

Think fast, think fast. “If I win, you cook with me tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I teach you how to cook a meal. You give me your undivided attention.”

“Deal.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait. What’s your side of the bet?”

His eyes sparkled. “To be determined.”

TBD was an option? What did that mean? With my luck, I’d probably be tasked to work extra hours.

He was up first, affording me an unobstructed view of his great ass. Which I must say looked incredible encased in denim. Jesus, he even bowled like he was in control. And when his first shot was a strike, I knew I was trouble.

Three frames later, I wasn’t just losing; I was being annihilated.

But right now, his four-year-old niece was up, with her tongue between her lips and a look of fierce concentration. And when her second throw knocked down all of the pins after taking an excruciatingly long time to go down the lane, we all cheered. Even Liam, who hadn’t been drinking and wasn’t overly relaxed, was all smiles for his niece.

At the tenth frame, I took my stance and glanced back at his smug face. I so wanted to stick out my tongue at him, but I refrained. Barely. Then I focused. Point the ball in the middle. Little extra umph. Nope, went left. Shit. It hit the bumper but then it bounced into the middle and—holy shit. Strike.

I did a little dance and squealed. Turning around, I saw him shaking his head.

“Good thing for the bumpers.”

Leave it to Liam to rain on my parade. Never good enough in his eyes. At least everyone else seemed happy with my small success.

They decided to play another game, but my boss couldn’t be bothered. Nope, he was too good for it.

“I have a quick call to make, but you guys go ahead and play without me.”

Disappointment was obvious on everyone’s face. It only fueled my annoyance with him. I took a seat next to his mother while the kids took a quick bathroom break before the next game.

“I should’ve warned you not to bet against my son. He’s an athlete like his father was.”

“Oh, yeah? What other sports did Liam play?” Call me forever curious about someone I shouldn’t be.

“Baseball was his sport of choice. I used to love watching him play catch in our front yard with his father. They’d do it for hours.”

Shit. I had a prick of conscience. Perhaps my boss was coping in the only way he knew how.

We were four frames into the second game when Liam returned from his call. His mother patted the seat beside her. “I was telling Kendall about the times your father used to throw the baseball around with you out in the yard. Remember?”