Page 25 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

I quickly glance away. On time too, because Andrea arrives next to me at that very moment. I was so absorbed in not looking at Alex – then full on staring – that I missed her approaching.

“Hey, Autumn. You can take a break now. I’ve got this.” She smiles at me.

“And just in time, my legs are so shaky, I feel like I might collapse,” which is true. Bartending is a leg workout on a whole other level. We stand for hours and take short ten minute breaks. But on the bright side, my legs have never looked better—and it’s only been a week.

Andrea and Betty laugh. “Go to the office then, take a seat, and stretch your legs.” Andrea takes out a bunch of keys from her pocket and quickly searches through them. “This is the one.”

“Thank you,” I say gratefully.

“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you once you get in,” Andrea calls out as I make my way around the bar counter. Her office is in the same hallway as the restrooms; oftentimes, afterusing the facility, curious patrons like to snoop. The perks of a small town is that everyone wants in on each other’s business.

I give her a thumbs up, so she knows I heard her. One of the things I like most about Liquid Elixir is that even though it’s a small town bar, it’s classy. The vintage furnishings and old school jazz set the mood. The songs croon softly through the speakers so patrons can actually hear each other, and the crackling fireplace makes the night slip by.

I’ve noticed most people walk in here to have real conversations and catch up with friends. So different from Manhattan where people mostly go to bars to brood alone, pick up sexual conquests, or just to get drunk. People wave at me as I weave through the tables, and I grin as I return their waves. I pointedly avoid glancing over at Alex’s booth as I make my way into the hallway, leading to the office. I quickly unlock the office eager to finally get off my feet and just recline. It’s been a long day.

I push my glasses up as I sink onto the oversized leather couch and recline, blinking at the ceiling. I stay unmoving for a few minutes before my bladder starts protesting, so I get up to use the private bathroom. I wash my hands and rinse off my face when I’m done. I’m walking back into the office when the door handle jiggles.

I freeze, holding my breath as I watch the door. A curious patron? Andrea would’ve knocked.

“Open the door, Autumn.”

I recognize that voice. Alex. I slowly shuffle toward the door wondering what he’s doing here. We covered everything back at his house, didn’t we? We have nothing more to talk about. I hesitate.

“What do you want?” I call through the door.

“Open the door,” he repeats calmly.

I sigh as I turn the lock. So much for avoiding him. How am I supposed to forget about him and the way he makes me feel when everywhere I turn, he’s right there? It’s not fair.

As soon as the lock clicks, Alex pushes the door open, and I take a few steps back to avoid being hit by the swinging door. He closes the door behind him, and I swallow as he locks it. His hair is not as slick as it usually is and the tips are a bit wet – like he took a shower right before coming to the bar. I don’t know if it’s the dim lighting of the office, but his eyes look darker, filled with an emotion that makes my throat tighten.

Why does he always have to look at me like that?

“Hi,” I whisper shyly. He scrutinizes me quietly for a few seconds, then pushes a bag I didn’t notice in his hands to my chest. I grab onto it on reflex.

“What’s this?” I ask, watching him warily as he stalks around the office.

“If you’re that curious, then open it.” He stops in front of Andrea’s desk and turns around to face me, slowly leaning back until his ass hits the edge of the desk. His long legs stretch forward, and his right foot crosses over his left. Alexander Beaufort is a devastatingly handsome man, and fuck me if he doesn’t know it.

I glance down at the bag in my hands and open it. Inside is the familiar package of an Apple iPhone. “What’s this?” I ask again, confused as to why he’s giving this to me.

“It’s yours,” he answers smoothly.

“No.” I say immediately, and I march toward him to drop the bag next to his hip on Andrea’s desk. As I spin to leave, he catches my wrist in a tight grip.

“Don’t be stubborn, Autumn. What happened earlier could have been much worse. You were in an unknown part of town, walking in the pouring rain barely able to see through the fog onyour glasses. What would you have done if the person that saw you wasn’t me?”

I gulp. I’ve been trying not to think of that scenario. “Brattleboro is a safe town, with only a few petty criminals. I would’ve been fine.”

His eyes darken ominously, and he stands up from his relaxed pose against the desk. “No. Use your head, Autumn. Anything could’ve happened to you. The streets were empty of people because of the rain and—”

“But the street I got lost on wasn’t empty. You were there,” I point out causing his jaw to visibly clench.

“And what makes you think you’re safe with me?” His voice is low, but there’s an undertone of a threat in his tone.

“Ask anyone in this town; I’m probably the least safe person you could find yourself alone with.”

His grip on my wrist tightens even more. “So, take the fucking phone, Autumn, you don’t even have to say thank you.”

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