Page 8 of Claiming My Cocky Boss

We shared a grin, but before she left, Mia’s eyes lingered on mine a second longer than usual. It was like she was silently asking if I was telling the truth—or if there was more to the story.

“Don’t let the tourists tire you out,” I said, trying to lighten the mood as she walked toward the door.

She glanced back, a teasing spark in her eyes. “Only the ones who can keep up.”

As the door closed behind her, I let out a breath, sinking back into the pillows. My heart was still racing, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the lies I’d been spinning or the way Mia looked at me. Maybe both.

The phone buzzed again in my hand, and I cursed under my breath when I saw Carla’s name pop up. I ignored it this time, tossing the phone onto the side table.

This whole thing was spiraling out of control. I was supposed to be focused on finding the embezzler, not getting tangled up in some half-baked lie to a woman I barely knew. But now... I already felt like I was getting in too deep.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. If Mia discovered the truth about who I really was, would she still choose to stick around? Or would she simply add to the chaos that already consumed my life?

One thing at a time, Liam. One thing at a time.

Four

Mia

A Few Days Later

The neon sign outside The Rusty Anchor flickered as Tessa and I pushed open the weathered wooden doors. Inside, the room pulsed with rowdy energy as live country music blared from a stage in the corner. Weaving through the crowd of cowboy hats and fringe jackets, we found our favorite spot at the bar and ordered our usual drinks.

As the night wore on, we joined the line-dancing frenzy on the packed dance floor, sweat mingling with the distinct scent of spilled beer. Our Friday nights here were always predictable: endless dancing, loud laughter, and a feeling of camaraderie that could only be found here.

Tessa elbowed me as we pushed through the crowd toward the bar. “God, I love this place. It’s like stepping into another world. No bullshit, just beer, music, and fun.”

I couldn’t argue with that. There was something about the rustic charm of the place that let me forget about theresponsibilities of the park, the annoying tourists, and the constant buzzing in my head from the week. I needed this.

Tessa squeezed through the crowd with an expert sway of her hips, shouting over the thumping bass. She waved to the bartender and yelled out our order: two margaritas.

I followed closely behind, taking in the familiar sights of our favorite watering hole. Rowdy groups of regulars occupied the pool tables, while the dance floor was a sea of bodies moving in unison.

Tessa turned to me with a sly grin, her eyes scanning the room for potential suitors. “Seen Brit yet?” she yelled.

“Not yet,” I replied, leaning against the bar and scanning the crowd. It was a usual mix of locals and tourists, blending under the dim lights and pulsing music. The bartender slid our drinks across the counter, and Tessa handed one to me, clinking glasses. “Another Friday night of avoiding losers,” she declared.

I chuckled, remembering that we had said the same thing last week. But it was always fun to come here with Tessa.

“And we were right.” She grinned, taking a long sip. “Now, come on, let’s find a table before all the good seats are gone.”

We made our way to a corner booth, squeezing past a group of guys in cowboy hats and boots who looked like they’d just stepped out of a Western movie. Tessa slid in across from me, already bouncing in her seat as the music picked up.

“Bet you ten bucks Brit shows up in the next five minutes,” she said, glancing toward the entrance.

I rolled my eyes. “No bet. He’s like clockwork.”

And sure enough, not two minutes later, Brit, Tessa’s friend, walked in with a group of his buddies, his usual swagger on full display. Tessa waved him over, and before I knew it, he was pulling up a chair and signaling for another round of drinks.

“Mia, Tessa,” Brit greeted us with a grin, dropping into the chair beside Tessa. “You ladies look ready for a night.”

Tessa leaned in, smirking. “We are. What about you? You gonna try to out-dance us again?”

Brit chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m well aware that you two own the dance floor.”

I swirled my straw in my margarita, amused by Brit’s friends’ loud and lively chatter as they settled into the booth next to us. One of them, a tall guy with a thick beard and a friendly smile, caught my eye and waved. “You gonna join us on the dance floor tonight, Mia?”

I shook my head with a grin, taking another sip. “Maybe after a couple more drinks.”

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