Page 8 of Boss Daddy

For a moment, we just look at each other. His gaze drops to my mouth, heat flaring beneath my skin once more, spreading like wildfire. I fight the urge to lick my lips and to lean in closer, to see just how far we can push this.

I clear my throat and pull back, breaking the spell. I can’t afford to lose control, or this job opportunity.

“So, is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Yeah. Don’t call me boss. Call me Samuel.”

I nod. “Alright, Samuel.”

I shift my weight, pretending to focus on tidying up the bar, but my mind is a mess. My fingers wrap around the cocktail shaker, needing something to hold onto. My rule about not mixing business with pleasure is screaming at me to back off, but my body is doing everything it can to betray me.

Samuel’s eyes track my movements, dark and thoughtful.

I clear my throat, trying to steer my focus back to professional. “So, what do Fridays and Saturdays look like around here?”

“Busy. Crowded. Controlled chaos,” he says. “We’re open five nights a week. Closed Mondays and Tuesdays. You’ll have to be fast, accurate, and keep your head on straight.”

“Being fast and accurate is my specialty.”

His eyes flare, like he’s daring me to push back, to challenge him. And I want to. God, I want to.

I grab a glass and absentmindedly wipe it with a towel. “Any house rules I should know about? Besides the obvious ones.”

“Yeah. Don’t take shit from anyone. Not customers. Not staff. Not even me.”

As I lift the glass to put it away, I catch his eyes flicking downward, his gaze skimming over my waist, my hips, before snapping back up to my face. He doesn’t try to hide it or pretend he wasn’t looking.

I don’t mind.

I swallow hard, my panties soaked. “Got it. No shit from anyone.”

He leans back, giving me just enough space to breathe again, and takes another slow sip of his drink. “Good.”

I grab a second glass I hid behind the bar, one I poured for myself while he wasn’t looking. His eyes widen slightly and I smirk.

“Thought you’d need someone to toast with,” I say, holding up my glass. “Cheers, Samuel.”

He flashes me a sexy-as-hell grin. “Cheers, Erin.”

We tap our rims, theclinkechoing throughout the empty expanse of the bar.Our eyes lock, and I swear the temperature in the room spikes. I take a sip, the burn of the alcohol exactly what I need.

I set my glass down. “So, when do I start?”

Another smirk. He glances over his shoulder at James. “What do you think, bud? Should we give her a shot?”

James doesn’t say a word, he just nods.

“I’m the boss,” Samuel says, “but he’s my second-in-command.” He sits back for a moment, as if giving the matter of hiring me one last thought.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” I say finally.

He extends his hand for a shake and I take it, his grip warm and firm. “Tomorrow night,” he says. “Try to keep up.”

“Don’t worry. I plan to set the pace.”

His laugh is low, dark, and sensual.

“We’ll see, Erin,” he says, easing off his stool and walking away. “We’ll see.”

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