Millionaire Boss (Freeman Brothers 1)

“I’ll be referee,” Brandon offered. “That way it’ll be even.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Merry said.

“I really should, though. You see, I just got this new job, and I hear my new boss is a real hard-ass,” he said.

“I don’t know where you heard that,” Merry said, mocking innocence and I had to laugh.

We played a couple of rounds before Merry and I both headed toward the bathroom. On the way out, I ended up in a crush of people and suddenly got pushed. I didn’t realize she was in front of me until I rammed into her and she turned around to look at me. I reached out to wrap my arms around her and stop us both from falling. The heat of her body was new and exciting, and I didn’t let her go. Instead, I pulled her up closer and walked with her down to the end of the hall where there wasn’t anyone else.

The next thing I knew, we were kissing. I had her pressed to the wall, her body still close to mine, and my hands around her waist. She looped her arms around my neck and leaned into the kiss, opening her mouth to the guiding pressure of my tongue until it tangled with hers. I never wanted to stop kissing her. But a few seconds later, I heard a familiar voice.

“Quentin?”

I looked up and saw Cole standing a few feet away in the hallway. Merry and I quickly disentangled ourselves, and she scurried away back toward the table.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine. You ready to go?” I asked.

Cole had already called a rideshare, and it was waiting for us outside. The entire drive home all I could think about was Merry’s sweet mouth and hot body pressed up against me and wondered if maybe this was the upheaval I’d been anticipating.

18

Merry

I seriously did not want to open my eyes. In those first couple of moments of not being asleep anymore, but not yet being all the way awake, I could already feel the thudding reminder of the fun I’d had the night before. Eventually, I was going to have to open my eyes to the cruelty of light and awareness, and it was all going to come crashing down onto me.

Which was going to suck.

I lay there in bed with my pillow over my head and the blankets pulled up over my shoulders for as long as I possibly could. Finally, I didn’t have any choice but to get up, and the full hangover hit me.

And it definitely sucked.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and took a shower, standing under the hot water with the hopes it would do… something. It accomplished little but made me feel less woozy, and I got out, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a stretchy tank top and headed for the kitchen. The smell of coffee was all the encouragement I needed. There was no work that day, and I intended on doing nothing but setting myself up with a constant drip of the strongest coffee my maker could produce, eating salty fried food, and stretching out on the couch to pray to the gods of reality TV that I’d make it through.

This wasn’t my first hangover, but I hadn’t had enough in my life to not be a complete sissy when it came to them. I got to the kitchen and found Brandon standing by the coffee maker, the carafe in his hand. Getting my mug from the cabinet, I reached for the pot, but he pulled it away.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Give me the coffee, Brandon,” I said. “Hand it over slowly and no one gets hurt.”

He grinned like an asshole and pulled the pot further away again.

“You know I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“Having the hots for your boss.” That stopped me. I stared at him, my head tilting to the side.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You totally have the hots for your boss,” he said again. “You know, I never really pegged you for that kind of girl. Teacher’s pet, maybe. But not a desk bunny.”

“First, gross. Second, and I repeat with augmentation, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

He finally put down his guard enough for me to grab the pot of coffee from him and pour myself a cup. I didn’t even bother adding my usual cream and sugar and just downed half of it in one burning, ill-advised gulp.

“You don’t remember making out with him last night?” Brandon asked.

I choked and stared at him, wiping the droplets of coffee away from my bottom lip.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

Brandon laughed disbelievingly and took back the coffeepot for his own cup.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You really don’t remember? How much did you drink?”