Page 10 of Her Possessive Daddies

A guy in a crisp button-down sidles against the bar, his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath. "You must be new here. Haven't seen you before."

"That obvious, huh?" I wipe down the counter, trying to mirror Lacey's easy confidence.

"You've got that deer-in-headlights look." He grins. "It's cute though. Really cute."

I manage a polite smile and turn to grab more glasses, but he persists.

"So... do you have a boyfriend?"

My hands freeze on the glass rack. "Yes." The word comes out automatically, years of habit. "Well, no. Not anymore."

"Interesting." His eyes light up, but I'm already moving away, busying myself with restocking limes.

“You know where to find me if you want a new one.” He lingers for a moment before melting back into the crowd. Thank god.

Lacey slides up beside me, two shot glasses in hand. "Tequila time, sister. Spill."

"Oh, I shouldn't-"

"Honey, your break is in ten minutes. Consider this your first lesson in bartender therapy." She pushes one of the shots closer. "So what's the story?"

I throw back the shot, the burn matching the stinging memory. "Three years. Apparently, I'm not fun enough anymore."

" What the hell? Define 'not fun enough.'"

"I take night classes, I work - well, worked - as a nanny. Can't party every night like his trust fund allows."

"Ah." She pours another round. "One of those."

"He posted pictures with some blonde already. Didn't even wait twenty-four hours."

"Men." Lacey rolls her eyes. "The good news is, you're working in a bar now. Best place to get over someone is where you can watch drunk idiots make fools of themselves every night. Makes you appreciate being single."

The tequila warms my chest, loosening something tight inside. "Is that why you do this?"

"Honey, I do this because I make more in tips than most people make in salary, and I get entertained by drunk people for free. It’s a win win.”

Last call comes and goes,and my feet are killing me. But there's an unfamiliar buzz running through my veins that has nothing to do with the tequila shots.

"Not bad for your first night." Lacey counts out her tips, sliding a stack my way. "Here's your cut from the shared pool."

"Holy shit." The bills feel surreal in my hands. More than I'd make in a week of nannying.

"Just wait until you're running your own bar shift." She chucks me playfully under the chin. "You've got potential, kid. I can tell."

We wipe down the bar together, falling into an easy rhythm. The way she moves, the way she talks – it reminds me of an older sister I never had.

"So what's your story?" I ask, stacking clean glasses. "How'd you end up here?"

"Same as you – needed a change. Best decision I ever made." She tosses her rag in the bin. "Speaking of changes, give me your phone."

"What for?"

"Trust me."

I hand it over and she positions me against the bar's copper backdrop, the vintage lights casting a warm glow.

"Work those curves, baby. Show them what they're missing."

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