Page 17 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

It’s past midnight and the bar is starting to wind down, so I find a clean towel to start wiping the bar top. I glance toward Alex. Yep, still staring at me. I swallow hard as I quickly look away, only to see Ezra watching me too. Shit, did he see me glance at his brother? I hesitate, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t so I just keep cleaning. Keith walks to the front door and turns the placard so it saysclosedto anyone who might be passing by. Then he moves around the bar, picking up used glasses and taking them to the back to wash up.

Almost an hour later, we’re done cleaning, and Ezra is gone. He left a few large bills in his place, which more than cover his tab, leaving a substantial tip.

“Where’s the boss? Gotta let her know we’re done here,” Keith says, speaking to me for the first time in hours—we work atopposite ends of the bar and rarely have occasion to talk during work hours.

I glance around the bar in surprise. Andrea usually helps us during clean up. I glance at Alex’s booth and it’s empty too. When did he leave?

“I’ll go check in her office,” I offer and head to the small back hallway. As I make my way toward her office, I register raised voices and I slow down.

“I can’t believe we have to stay at your house again tonight. When are you going to fix my roof?” Andrea demands.

“When my men are able to,” A dry voice replies. Alex.

“When your men are able to? What’s that supposed to mean? First, it was because of the holidays, and now it’s when your men are able to?” Andrea’s voice is incredulous.

“A lot of houses got damaged during the storm last week, Andrea. And we had a lot of work before that,” Alex says, impatiently. “You can’t expect me to tell my men to leave the other more pressing jobs to fix my kid sister’s roof.”

“That’s exactly what I expect, Alexander. What’s the point of our family being the only construction company in Brattleboro if I can’t even get my roof done on time. This is why monopoly isn’t such a great thing, if the other companies hadn’t conveniently run out and—”

“Watch it, Andrea.”

I’m lurking in front of Andrea’s office like a total creep, blatantly eavesdropping. Monopoly? How can the Beauforts own the only construction company in a town of over twelve thousand people? Is that even possible?

“Why are you dragging your feet to fix my roof? I know you hate having people in your space. What’s really going on here, Alex?!”

“What’s going on is that while your roof is damaged, you have several very comfortable places, might I add, that you canstay in until it gets fixed. A lot of people in town don’t have that luxury, so excuse me if they’re Beaufort Construction’s priority right now.”

Andrea goes silent after that, and I recognize my chance to knock on the door before I get caught being the eavesdropper that I am. I go to do just that when the door is suddenly wrenched open. I gasp, stumbling backwards with my fist still raised to knock.

“Autumn.” Alex raises his brow at me.

“I um–I came to let Andrea know we’re done with the cleanup and Keith is about ready to go home.” I manage to say over the rush of blood in my ears. Alex looks unconvinced.

“Thanks, Autumn, I’ll be right out,” Andrea says. I nod rapidly before excusing myself.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Alex asks in a deep, rumbling tone that causes goosebumps to erupt over my skin. Following me down the hallway back to the bar I can practically feel his eyes burning into my back; the accusation in his tone is terrifying. Or is this feeling exhilaration? Unlike everyone else, I’m not afraid of Alexander Beaufort. He intrigues me, plagues my thoughts, and consumes my dreams, but he doesn’t scare me.

I spin around and meet his accusatory glare, refusing to back down even if he towers over me and is standing only a couple inches away. “No!” I say a little too forcefully, which isn’t exactly proving my innocence. “I mean, of course not. Were you talking about something important?” I ask innocently, changing my demeanor to that of the sweet, clueless bartender.

Despite my forced smile, I can’t control my breathing, which is causing my chest to lift with each labored breath. His eyes glance down first to my chest, then leisurely make their way to my neck. Can he see my pulse hammering in his presence? His lips part slightly, and his eyes darken momentarily.

Alex says nothing, making it clear that he doesn’t believe me, and his thoughts have trailed elsewhere. Then his eyes glaze back over, the indentation returning between his brows as his trademark scowl erases whatever feelings distracted him the moment before. He doesn’t ask me any more questions before brushing past and stalking out the front door, leaving me feeling more confused and turned on than ever.

CHAPTER 11

AUTUMN

When I wake up, the first thing that comes to mind is new glasses! Upon his insistence, I’ve worn contacts since Larson and I started dating, but now that I’m free from his control, I’m reinventing myself. Your girl loves to accessorize, and with my minimal wardrobe options, glasses will bring a little of my personality back into my look. I make my way to the bathroom where I get ready. When I’m done, I check the time on the nightstand alarm clock, shocked that it’s nearly one PM.

I make my way to Andrea’s room and knock gently, not sure if she’s up yet. We’ve fallen into a sort of routine, Andrea and me. We work late, sleep in, and then eat together and talk shit about weird customers and exchange book recommendations. Honestly, it’s nice. I’ve never had someone that I could vent to about my day, and Andrea totally understands and vents right back. I wonder why she’s single, but I’m enjoying our codependency right now.

By the time we trudge downstairs bleary eyed, Mrs. Staten, Alex’s housekeeper, is already on the premises and cooking something delicious. At first I was hesitant about using herservices—the least I can do is feed myself—but Mrs. Staten is so kind and always insists on cooking for us both.

Then after eating, we go our separate ways, doing our own thing until we head to work for the evening. I spend most of my free time in the home library. I don’t have a phone or a laptop to pass the time, so I read. Thankfully, Alex has a huge collection of fiction, my weakness, so I’m not forced to read boring architectural shit, which seems to be his obsession, or worse, self-help books.

I tried one self-help book in a bid to be sophisticated and nearly spent an entire afternoon sleeping. I was literally bored to tears. I forced myself to read it for an hour, and my brain seemed to catalog that hour as torture. My thoughts inevitably wandered to my current situation, and I spent another hour crying over the years I wasted with my control freak ex-fiancé. I cried myself to sleep, then awoke hours later when it was time to head to the bar for the night donning puffy eyes and a headache. Never again.

I knock on Andrea’s door again, a bit harder, biting my lip anxiously. She’s usually up by this time. Did she go somewhere?

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