Page 18 of Challenged by the Single Dad

Chloe followed behind him as he shut off the television over the fireplace and scoped out the Sewing Circle booth for forgotten hooks or needles—it never failed they always left something behind.

“Somebody’s going to be beside themselves when they take inventory of their crochet hooks and find one missing,” she said with a pretty smile on her full lips as she bent over and dug a hook out from between the booth cushions.

He chuckled softly to himself. “We’ll tuck this behind the bar until they come back tomorrow. One of them always leaves something behind.”

“Those ladies are an intense bunch.”

“Just wait until next month. Then they’ll all be in here longer, crafting away for Christmas. They set up a table at the local craft bazaar and sell their wares.” He shook his head. “Not my jam, but they’re mostly harmless. Emphasis on ‘mostly.’”

Chloe snickered, her hands full of various pieces of garbage, like napkins, wayward straws, and a few drinking glasses. They did a final sweep, and then ended up back at the bar where they tossed the trash and dealt accordingly with the dishes.

“All right, crew. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” he said, making eye contact with the kitchen staff, then the front of house staff.

A few of them gave half-hearted grumbles, but they all knew the drill and got up, bringing their empty glasses to the glass cleaner.

“You on day shift tomorrow, Dom?” Burke asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be in here after I walk Silas and the others to the bus stop.”

Burke nodded and shrugged into his jacket. “All right. Have a good night, brother.”

Dom jerked his chin at Burke. “Later.”

One by one the staff filed out, saying goodnight to Dom and Chloe.

The sound of the front door closing behind the last employee was like a gong in a silent monastery, driving home the fact that they were now alone, together, in the pub.

His gaze flicked to her as he started dismantling the slushy machine to put it through the glass cleaner. He hated bellinis and frozen margaritas and shit, but they were so popular—especially in the summer—that it would be stupid not to have it.

Her cheeks filled with a sexy pink color. “What can I do?”

“I’m assuming you’ve used one of these before and taken it apart?” He was referring to the frozen drink machine.

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“’Kay, well, we take the mechanism apart every night, put it through the glass cleaner, then leave it to air dry. Why don’t you start putting away the rest of the glasses that have come through the cleaner and then I’ll show you how to cash out.”

Her smile was small, but she got to work. It was impossible for him not to look at the sliver of tight belly skin that showed when she reached up onto her tiptoes to slide the martini and margarita glasses into the hanging racks. And, oh fuck, was that a tattoo on her hip?

He groaned a little inside.

Dammit.

She was fucking gorgeous, if he was being completely honest with himself. Which was probably another reason why he didn’t want her working there. He didn’t want the distraction. The temptation.

But that was ahimproblem. Not aherproblem. He was a grown-ass man and should be able to resist a beautiful woman. He was not in the right place in his life to even think about a relationship right now anyway.

Just because his brothers had all moved on didn’t mean Dom was ready to as well.

He did more tidying and organizing, then brought the cash boxes to the back room where all the servers cashed out. “Can you go lock the front door? I’ll lock the receiving door at the rear of the kitchen,” he said, taking off through the now clean, quiet, and dark space. It wasn’t hot from all the fryers or grills, and the stainless steel countertops were spotless. In less than twelve hours it’d be hot, noisy, and chaotic once again.

She was already back in the cash out room when he returned, and holy fuck, he never realized how tight or crowded the space was until that moment. She had to step back out into the hallway just so he could pull out the chair and sit down. Then he could smell her spicy, floral scent as he began going through the cashing out process.

Her hand on the back of his chair, mixed with her intoxicating scent and that strand of dark-brown hair that had untucked from behind her ear and hung down beside his face, was driving him ever loving fucking mad.

He wanted to yell at her to back the fuck up, but there was nowheretoback up. How did he not realize this place was a goddamned closet?

“So … you, uh you, um …” he cleared his throat, “you erm … you bring up the tills in this software program here and it should tell you what the running tally for sales was for the …” He scratched his head.

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