Page 48 of Boss Daddy

“Yeah,” he says. “You know, the thing you went to the back to get? Quite a while ago, might I add.”

Shit. Minor detail. “Oh, uh,” I stammer, then force a laugh. “Right, I did, but then I had to, um, meet with Samuel about something. Got a little distracted.”

My face gets hot. God, for someone who’s used to lying constantly about her past, this particular secret sure as hell seems hard to keep.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “In the storeroom?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly, already backing away. “Inventory stuff. Uh, anyway, be right back with the rum!”

I don’t wait for his response, spinning on my heel and heading back to the storeroom before he can ask any more questions.

As I make my way back down the hall, my thoughts drift to what my life has been like lately.The routine Samuel and I have fallen into is something I never thought I’d have or even want. We ride to work together, ride home together, and spend most of our nights tangled up in each other.

The sex is incredible; it’s the other stuff that’s getting to me. The quiet mornings. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

It makes me nervous how much I’m getting used to it all.

I step back into the storeroom, the scent of sex still in the air. I close my eyes, letting it wrap around me.

“Okay. Rum, rum. Where is it?” I scan the shelves, spotting the box. Grabbing the rum from the shelf, I return to the bar. I set the box of Kraken down on the counter, still feeling like I’m wearing a neon sign that says, “I just got thoroughly screwed in the storeroom.”

My cheeks are warm, my hair’s probably a little messy, and I’m pretty sure I have the post-bliss glow that no amount of denial is going to hide. I should’ve made a pit stop to the restroom to make sure I don’t look totally obvious. Oh well, too late now.

Mark glances up from where he’s wiping down the counter. “There’s the good stuff.”

He comes over to help me take the bottles out of the box. He flicks his eyes in my direction as he does, as if he’s suspicious of something.

“Something I can help you with, sir?” I ask with a sly smile.

“Nope. Not a thing. Just making a mental note that the next time I ask you to run to the back, there’s a good chance you’ll forget why you went back there.” He smirks, letting me know he’s busting my balls.

“Noted,” I quip, giving him a cheeky grin. Inside, I’m silently praying he doesn’t notice how wrecked I look.

When we’re done with the box, I step around the bar to straighten my shirt, smooth my hair, and grab a fresh rag, diving into the setup like my life depends on it.

Mark and I make small talk as we finish setting up the bar. I miss Ben, but he’s supposed to be back from his trip soon. Thankfully, Mark is really easy to work with, and his funny stories about random customers are entertaining enough to distract me from my Samuel-induced haze.

By the time the first customers trickle in, I’m back in bartender mode, my grin easy and my movements efficient.

The night creeps by like most Wednesdays—slow but steady. It’s never dead, but it’s not the insanity of a weekend either. Mark and I fall into an easy rhythm, swapping jokes and pouring drinks like clockwork.

Around eleven, Samuel strides up to the bar, his dark eyes sweeping over me in a way that makes my stomach flip. He leans on the counter, his presence commanding as ever.

“It’s slow enough that one of you can go home early,” he says.

Mark looks at me, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, you go. I don’t mind staying.”

“Really?” he asks, his brow lifting.

“Yeah,” I reply with a grin. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, I could use the extra tips.”

“You’re the best,” he says, grabbing his things and giving a quick wave as he heads for the door. “See you tomorrow!”

Once Mark’s gone, Samuel leans in slightly, his voice low enough so only I can hear. “You good?”

Like always, Samuel has a way of seeing right through me.

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