Page 2 of Employing Patience

“What have you heard?”

“That you don’t take no for an answer. That you’re basically royalty in Kilborough. That you’re the man who can make anything happen.”

I run my gaze over him. “Including turning a straight boy?” I make it clear by my tone that I’m joking.

Joey’s lips hitch up. “Even gods have their weaknesses.”

“Gods, hey? Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“In that case, I don’t think I’ve mentioned how good-looking you are for an old man.”

“Old? Men half my age have trouble keeping up with me.”

His hum is gravelly and low. “I don’t doubt it, Mr. de Almeida.”

Something sparks in his eyes, and it’s that exact moment I realize I’m fucked. Not only is he absolutely gorgeous, knowing he’s off-limits and a cheeky flirt? The man is hitting all my weaknesses.

“How do I know you can tend a bar?” I ask.

“You don’t.”

“Got any experience?”

“Nope.”

“This isn’t looking good for you.”

That cheeky smile again. “I disagree.”

I need to get better at hiding my interest because he’s got me pinned. In my defense, there aren’t many times when I need to keep it under wraps. Whenever I meet someone new and hot, finding out their sexuality is always my first order of business. The straight or taken ones, I move on from. Easily.

But Joey’s got me intrigued.

I’ve always liked a challenge.

“Tell me you at least have a high school diploma,” I say.

“That, I can do.”

I pretend to think about it. “Sorry, still not hiring.”

Joey stands and then plants his hands on my desk. He leans over it, so close I catch a glimpse of yellow in his brown eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Then he’s gone as quickly as he came in, and I’m left stunned for a moment. That was … well, I’d expected more fight from him, if I’m honest. I’d hoped for it. Been dying for it.

That whole encounter has left me annoyed and sexually frustrated.

I lean back in my chair, scrolling through a mental Rolodex of my hookups and trying to picture which ones have longish hair. I’m in a specific mood tonight, and I want to get the frustration out as soon as possible.

I’m about to pick up my phone when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. On the monitors, I watch as a familiar face charms one of my servers and ducks behind the bar. He grabs an apron from the hooks at the back, throws it on, and then finger guns the security camera.

I’m half-surprised, half-impressed as I watch Joey take an order and then move around the space like he’s been working here his whole life. He’s clearly trying to show off, spinning bottles and flipping cups, really putting on a show.

So much for no experience.

I’ve seen Joey around plenty but can’t remember ever talking to him before. There’s never been a need. I finished high school a few years before he started, and he’s never been divorced, so he’s not part of my group, which is who I spend the majority of my time with.

He said he’s desperate for this job, but he’s not acting the way I’d expect a desperate man to. He’s not begging or bargaining; he’s taking what he knows he deserves.

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