Page 3 of Boss Daddy

He nods, watching closely. I measure out the whiskey and vermouth, then add a dash of bitters. “Second rule is, stir, don’t shake. You’re blending, not making a snow globe.”

I slide the spoon into the glass and stir, smooth and steady, until the liquid chills to the perfect temperature. “You want it cold but not diluted. A Manhattan should have bite, not waterlogged regret.”

I strain the mixture into a chilled coupe glass and pluck a cherry from the jar, dropping it in with a flourish.“And there you have it. Perfection.”

The kid’s jaw drops. “Wow. That was… badass.”

I wink. “You’ll get there.”

Ben steps up, curiosity in his eyes. He picks up the glass, swirls it, then takes a sip. His eyebrows shoot up. He’s clearly impressed.

“Well, ho-ley shit,” he says. “You sure you need an interview? I think we just found our new bartender.”

I shrug. “Thanks, but from what I’ve heard about the boss, I don’t think he’d take too kindly to someone jumping the line like that.”

Ben laughs, a warm, easy sound. “You’re not wrong. He’s a stickler for respect.”

I sigh and shake my head. “Samuel Holt, right?”

Just then, the front doors open, and a tall man with a strong build and rugged face steps in, his long dark hair tied into a ponytail. He’s dressed in loose-fitting jeans, a red-checkered flannel, and combat boots. He enters, stopping next to the doorand crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Is that him?” I ask.

Ben shakes his head. “Nope. That’s James Dalton, the head bouncer.”

“Dalton, huh? Fitting. You know, Patrick Swayze’s character inRoadhousewas named Dalton.”

Ben chuckles. “Yep. And itisfitting. He’s pretty Zen most of the time but more than capable of kicking some serious ass. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

The newbie’s face scrunches in confusion. “Who’s Patrick Swayze?”

Ben and I exchange a look, then laugh. “Kid, I’m thinking you’re too young to be behind a bar. Watch the movie, then we’ll talk.” He raises a finger. “And I don’t mean the new one with Connor freaking McGregor, either. I’m talking about the original. The good one.”

We all laugh, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit more. For the first time in a long time, I feel like things might actually be okay. Just as I slip back around to the other side of the bar and lower myself onto the stool, the front doors swing open again. The faint evening light spills in, silhouetting a figure who could only be Samuel Holt.

He strolls in with the kind of presence that demands attention. He’s tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders that look like they belong on a linebacker. His tailored suit hugs every inch of his solid, powerful frame.Dark hair, flecked with silver at the temples, gives him an air of rugged sophistication, as does the well-maintained beard. His eyes are a piercing dark brown, andsharp enough to strip a person down to their soul.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as sandpaper.

Thisis my potential boss? He looks like he could pin me with a glance and shatter me with a touch. A thrill skates through me, hot and dangerous, pooling low in my belly. My skin tingles, my heart races, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe.

His eyes sweep the room, landing on me like a physical weight. Heat crawls up my neck, and my legs press together instinctively.

Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

Chapter 2

Samuel

The darkness wraps around me like a familiar cloak as I step through the door, and I give my eyes a second to adjust.

Then I see a damn vision sitting at the bar, back straight, legs crossed, oozing confidence.

She’s wearing tight jeans that cling to toned legs, and athletic shoes that say she’s ready to bolt or fight, maybe both. My eyes drift up to the low-cut tank top, revealing just enough to make my jaw twitch. A smooth collarbone. Curves I can’t ignore.

My cock starts to stiffen in my pants. Goddamn, whoever this woman is, she’s already got a hold on me.

Her dark hair spills over her shoulders, framing a face that’s like something out of a dream. Her eyes are green, cool, and unwavering. They land on me like a challenge. There’s no hesitation, no flicker of fear.

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