“Why is that?” My voice trembles, but he doesn’t skip a beat.

“So you wouldn’t sue me for sexual harassment.” He laughs.

I love the sound of him chuckling at his own wittiness.

“Oh.”

He finally accomplishes the reaction most receive out of me—mute. I’m not the sassy, funny-comeback kind of girl.

“Your dog doesn’t seem to be very into the park.” I nod at the bulldog lying down on its back under the tree while all the other dogs are running around, chasing one another.

“Yeah, he’s not much into exercise. I bring him here for a change of scenery. Plus, usually, there’s no shortage of women here.” His eyes light up in humor when he looks over at me.

Is this where he picks up his women? At the dog park?

“I have to say though, today, I’m feeling pretty damn lucky,” he says.

My shoulders tense when his fingers play with the collar of my blouse.

“Why is that? Do you usually have to carry—what’s your dog’s name?”

“No. Apollo might rest once we get here, but he manages the five-minute walk.”

He leans closer again, and my whole body stiffens.

“I’m lucky because you’re here. My day will just go downhill after this.”

I’m not sure how to respond.

Do I say ’fuck it’ and sleep with my boss? God knows, I’d bet he’s worth it a hundred times over. The dream is tempting, but I have bills to pay, and sleeping with Davis would only bring the red stamp on the outside of the envelopes in my mailbox.

I divert the topic to a safer subject. “How did you come up with Apollo? Are you some NASA junkie?”

“Nah, I just thought it sounded manly. What do you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrug. Trying to stay composed and uncaring is slowly becoming harder with every interaction with Davis.

“Which one’s yours?” he asks, looking around at all the dogs jumping and running back and forth in the small confines of the space.

“None of them,” I answer.

He scrunches his eyebrows. “Are you just here to meet some hot guys? I guess it’s your lucky day then,” he says, complimenting himself with a wink.

A girlie giggle escapes my mouth.

Seriously, Amelia, hold yourself together.

“Maybe.” I smile over at him. “Those two big brown dogs over there, basking in the sun.” I point to Jasmine and Jackson, sitting upright with their backs straight and noses raised, facing the sun.

Davis nods.

“They’re my boss’s dogs. I was late today, so the punishment is always to take the dogs to the park. Although, I’m thinking it’s not much of a punishment today,” I say, flirting back. I couldn’t help myself; the words just spilled out of me. Damn, I need to get on the same page as my mind.

Brain and vagina must agree, I silently instruct them.

“So, you don’t run late only for me?”

“No, I’m an equally shitty employee,” I joke.

But he doesn’t laugh. He stares at me for a few beats, making the atmosphere tense but electrifying. His eyes search mine, and I allow myself to become lost in his warm and welcoming chocolate-colored irises.

He closes our moment with a shake of his head. “Can you watch Apollo for me?”

“Um . . .” I fly back down to reality. “I really need to get back to the gallery,” I say, rising to my feet.

“Please.”

He places his hand on my arm, and goose bumps travel up my skin from his touch.

“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

I nod, knowing I’m not about to tell my other boss no, even when I’m not on his time.

I sit back down on the bench, and Davis disappears through the iron gate. Not wanting to read about Todd’s workouts on his abs or biceps, I decide not to check my Facebook account, so I sit in the silence, basking in my own spot of the warm sun. The days are starting to grow shorter, and soon, fall will be here. Might as well enjoy not having to be bundled up with gloves and hats to stay semi-warm.

Maybe Todd’s idea from last night isn’t so bad. Being swept up with Davis in order to help make Todd’s dream of opening his own restaurant happen sounds pretty damn good. After all, it could greatly benefit me.

Davis was right; it took him all of five minutes to get back. He’s smiling from ear to ear with two scones.

Handing me one, he claims his seat again on the bench. “This is the best cinnamon-and-apple scone.”

The warmth from the freshly baked pastry heats my palm. I twist around and spot the food truck on the corner.

“They park here every day at this time. I wish I owned a coffee house just so I could sell these.” He takes a bite, and his eyes close from the happiness the pastry brings him.

I tentatively nibble mine, and the cinnamon and chunks of apple mix in my mouth. Davis is right. It’s the best scone I’ve ever eaten, and it would go great with a hot chocolate on a cold morning. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Davis’s eyes pinned directly on me.

“So, what do you think?” he eagerly asks.

“It’s okay.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No . . . I love it. It’d go great with a cup of hot chocolate.”

“It would.” He nods in agreement. “Next time, I’ll make you my hot chocolate to go with it.”

“Nah. You pick up the scones, and I’ll make the hot chocolate.”

He tilts his head, confused, as if I’m challenging him. It’s almost like he’s asking himself how I could make something better than him.

“I didn’t know hot chocolate was something bartenders made very often.”

“It’s not. I wasn’t always a bartender. Being the only girl with four brothers, surviving cold New York winters, I learned fast that a cup of hot chocolate could warrant some peace and quiet. It’s probably the first drink I ever learned to make.” I bite the inside of my cheek. I just rambled on about fucking hot chocolate, like Davis gives a shit.

“What do you care to wager?”

“Wager?”

He leans in closer and whispers, “I did an apprenticeship in Italy. I make a mean hot chocolate, too.”

“What does the winner get?” I sit up a little straighter. I never turn away from a bet, especially one I won’t lose.

“Let’s use our talents. If I win, you take me on a tour of your favorite art pieces in the city. If I lose, I cook you whatever meal you want.” He slides closer to me, placing his hand out.

I stare at his open palm and look back to his eyes. The hope and eagerness he displays make me think he might throw the competition just to spend the day with me.

That only has me agreeing instantly. “Deal.”

I shake his hand, and a wide grin forms across his mouth.

“Apollo!” he calls out while his eyes stay on me, unnerving me to the core. The small dog waddles over to us. “Saturday, after-hours. Do you need any special ingredients?” he asks, releasing my hand and standing up.

The way the waist of his jeans hugs around his hips makes me wish I could hook a finger and pull him close, so my hands could explore every ripple of his stomach.

“No,” I breathlessly respond, hypnotized by his stare.

“All right. Have a good day, Amelia.” He winks and turns around.

I don’t watch him leave the park. Instead, I sit there, trying to figure out what I got myself into. Regardless of the winner, is this a date? No, it’s just a friendly bet between two people, right? An employee and her boss. Right?

* * *

I drag myself up the steps to the apartment. These are the days I wish I had a boyfriend waiting on the other side of the door for me with a candlelit dinner. I can practically smell the imaginary sulfur from him blowing out the candles before we’d take our filled wine glasses to the couch. Then, he’d wrap my feet in his hands, massaging them back to life after I’d spent a day in high heels, as I’d sip my wine and complain about what a bitch my boss was. If I’m venturing off to Neverland, the spoiling from my prince would happen after my very successful art show instead of a day spent with Bette.