I let out a deep breath. “Well, I am now.”
She playfully bites her bottom lip. “Good.” She pauses for a moment. “Do you want to get out of here and go do something fun?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“No idea. What’s there to do around here?”
I think for a minute, trying to figure something out. It’s not like I’m exactly having fun all the time. Coming up short, I pull out my phone and Google some ideas.
Finally, I settle on one. Avery and I do a dance over who’s going to pay the bill, but ultimately, I win. She may be my employer at the moment, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her pay while we’re on a date.
We leave the restaurant and head toward the fun that Avery requested. Thankfully, it’s a short drive because she bugs me the entire time about where we’re going.
She gets almost giddy when we pull into the parking lot.
“Putt-putt?” She grins.
“Do you like mini-golf?”
“I love it. I’ll love it even more when I kick your ass.”
“Oh, is that right?” I look at her and her overflowing confidence. “Do you want to bet?”
“What should we bet?” I ask.
Her face scrunches up. “Sexual favors. What else is there?”
I’m tempted to tell her that we don’t need to make a bet for me to do absolutely anything and everything to her sexy body, but I’ll let her have her fun.
Five minutes later, we have our putters, balls, and scorecard. My first shot, I hit a hole-in-one. Avery’s jaw drops.
“Sir?” She says. “Something you need to tell me?”
She steps up to take her own shot. It takes her five hits to knock it in. My lips curl up on one side, realizing I’ve probably got this in the bag.
But Avery has a secret weapon that I seem to have forgotten about. She bends over to pick up the ball, and I get a flash of her bare ass. Any bit of focus that I just had goes flying right out the window.
Immediately, I glance around to make sure no one is nearby to sneak a peek. Thankfully, no one is, but I don’t know that I want to take that risk for seventeen more holes.
The look Avery shoots me tells me she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing.
But she’s not stopping at just bending over to pick up the ball. When I go to make my next shot, she does it again. This time, she acts like she’s messing with her shoes, but she’s not fooling anyone.
“Avery,” I warn.
“Are you having trouble concentrating?” she asks with innocent doe eyes.
Son of a bitch, this is going to be the longest game of putt-putt in my entire life.