Page 41 of Employing Patience

“Kinda was.”

I tuck my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “You know, I meant what I said. About needing a friend. I know this sounds kinda preschool with coming right out and asking, but if you need anyone, that could be cool.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Nice.” I step closer so it’s only the counter between us. “Now, tell me, did he rub your back while you threw your guts up? Tuck you in? Kiss you better?

Will laughs. “Nothing that exciting. But he looked after me. I stayed in the spare room. Got some shirtless eye candy the next morning. So that helped.”

“It always does. You could get that every morning if you moved in.”

He hums, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “If he actually offers, I might think about it. But he’s a grown man. He doesn’t want a roommate. Especially not one the same age as his son.”

“Well, like you said, wait and see if he offers. That kind of thing is his call.”

Will nods, staring off across the bar.

“You’re hoping he offers, aren’t you?”

“Desperately.” His face contorts. “That sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

The stairs behind the bar creak, and I know it can only be one person. “Yep, but speaking of desperate and pathetic, I’m going to go and be both of those things with my boss.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll need it.” Because if I have to drape myself over his lap for his attention, I’m not professional enough to resist.

“Hey, before you run off, I need your number.”

My gaze flicks to where Art’s just appeared. “Okay, but I’m about to get real flirty, so go with it, okay?”

Will’s face reddens. “Give me the best you’ve got.”

I round the long counter and reach Will just as Art is halfway through the bar. My throaty laugh draws his attention, but I turn my focus completely on Will.

“I had a fun night too,” I say, dropping my voice and running a hand up his chest.

Will’s eyes widen, and I want to snigger at how shocked he looks, but I angle him away from Art so he doesn’t give me away.

“Want my number? I’d like to do it again sometime.”

Will smiles and pulls his phone from his pocket, looking uncertain, but at least the shock is melting away and being replaced by something close to amusement.

I punch my number in and hold the phone up between us. “Call me soon. Promise?”

Then Will surprises the hell out of me by leaning in and kissing my cheek. “Like I could stay away from a guy as hot as you.”

Eh, he gets points for trying, at least, even though the delivery is off. Poor Will. If this is what he’s like when he’s actually flirting, there’s no way in hell he’ll ever score his best friend’s dad. Dads are a whole new territory.

With the lunch rush not started yet, the room is still quiet enough that our voices carry, and the snarl on Art’s face makes it clear he caught the gist of our conversation. He admitted he wants me; now I need him to take what he wants.

“Thanks,” I mutter to Will, stepping away. “Let me know if I can ever return the favor.”

“Will do.”

He leaves, and I beeline for Art’s table.

Even though needing time off is something us bartenders usually swap between ourselves once the schedule is out, sometimes I like to mix things up a bit and go to Art directly. It has the pros of both getting me one-on-one time and annoying the shit out of him. Two things I love more than anything else. Given the number of night shifts I have to switch around because of my night classes—that he cannot know about since, as far as he’s concerned, I already have my diploma—I’ve had a lot of opportunities.

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