Page 3 of My Jealous Boss

With that thought in mind, I stomp to the office. Staying in her proximity when she’s blushing like that is a recipe for disaster. Blood is already rushing to my cock without my permission at the image of that innocent little thing turning pink in response to a relatively harmless compliment. I can’t give my mind a chance to supply me with other ways I could make her blush… at least not when I’m standing right next to her.

Once I’m in the office, I log into the computer to take care of our supply order for the week. It’s a mind-numbing task, and exactly what I need to get my thoughts away from Miranda and the way her cleavage peeks out enticingly from the top of her black button-up work shirt. Normally, it only eats up an hour of my time, but today I draw the action out and finish after two. Then, with no reason to be cooped up in the office any longer, I get on my feet and head out to make my rounds in the dining room.

We’re pretty slow tonight, which isn’t out of the ordinary. There aren’t any drink specials on Wednesdays, so the only people in the restaurant are our regulars and a few college students from the local university that are too lazy or unskilled to make dinner for themselves. Our dinner rush is close to over, so I can probably start sending servers home soon.

As I’m making my way through the dining room, my eyes find Miranda chatting with some of her coworkers. Even when I’m talking to the customers, my gaze follows her. I’m surprised that she seems just as aware of my presence as I am of hers. When I’ve checked in with the last of the guests, my feet are carrying me to her before I can stop them.

“There you are,” Miranda says when I’m within earshot. “I thought I scared you off.”

“It’ll take a lot more than a compliment to scare me off,” I tell her.

“That’s good,” she says with a giggle. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her curiously. “What do you have planned for me?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she says coyly as she ducks her head.

“Well, you have me intrigued,” I say, feeling a rush of affection for her.

“I sure hope so,” she murmurs, shoving her hands in the front of her apron. “That’s the point of this practice, right?”

“Right,” I confirm with a glance around the store to make sure no one’s watching this interaction. If anyone does see us talking, they’re not paying us any mind. To any onlookers, this is just a standard conversation happening between a boss and his employee. “I’m going to cut the floor in a few minutes.”

“That’s a good idea,” Miranda replies, looking at me properly again, the pretty blush back on her cheeks. “The last table came in almost half an hour ago.”

“You think you can handle the floor by yourself?” I ask. “You’ll make a good chunk of change if you can.”

“I’ll be okay,” she says confidently. “If I get overwhelmed, you’ll help out, right?”

“Of course,” I say, unable to say no to her when she’s batting her eyelashes at me and giving me a puppy-dog look.

“Thanks, Boss Man,” she says with a winning smile before taking her hands out of her apron. “I should go check on table forty-two.”

“They want the chocolate chip cookie sundae for dessert,” I say, remembering the conversation I had with them. “I meant to tell you.”

“But you were so distracted by me that you forgot?” she teases.

“You could say that,” I reply with a huff.

She’s so charming that I find it hard to believe that she doesn’t have any experience. The way she blushes when she’s doing it on purpose is a dead giveaway of her innocence, though. God, I want to take it away from her.

Before she has the chance to say something else that could break down my self-restraint, I walk away to let Nicole know she can stop seating everyone but Miranda and the bar. Then, once my host is aware of the change, I let the other servers know that they can start doing their side work and get out of here when their tables finish. My kitchen staff catches wind of the cuts, and I give them permission to go down to closers as well.

Once the kitchen staff clears out, I spend the next couple hours helping around the restaurant and cashing out the other servers. True to her word, Miranda handles the floor alone swimmingly. With me helping run her food, she bounces from table to table, giving impeccable service while she does her closing duties. By the time the restaurant closes, all she has left to do before she can check out is mopping the floor.

“I’ll be in the office,” I tell her as I help gather the dishes from the last table to leave.

“Sounds good,” she says, giving me a grateful smile as she wipes down the table. “It shouldn’t take me too much longer.”

I grunt in response before I disappear into the kitchen. After dropping the plates off to the dishwasher, I duck into my office. I leave the door open for Miranda. She clears her throat from the doorway about fifteen minutes later.

“You can close the door,” I say as I wiggle the mouse to wake up the computer screen. “I don’t know about you, but I think the sound from the dishwasher gets grating after a while.”

“I think so, too,” she replies, closing the door before settling into the chair next to me.

“I don’t think I’ve asked,” I murmur, accepting her checkout slip and typing the relevant information into the spreadsheet. “How’re you liking it at Lucky’s?”

“I love it,” she says sincerely. “It also helps that I have such a handsome boss.”

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