by Gemma Weir
“Of course I did,” she replies immediately. “You’re the only person I’d trust with the place. Job’s yours if you want it.”
“For real?” I ask, wanting to believe her words, but not quite trusting them or the rapid beating of my heart as I wait for her to speak.
“Absolutely. It’ll take you a few months to learn all the details about the background stuff, but you already know most everything about the day to day running of the place. In fact, if we got started straightaway, I reckon you could be ready to take over full-time at just about the same time that my grandbaby is due to get here. Seems like fate to me.”
“How does Anders feel about this? Beavers belongs to the club. There are members more senior than me.”
“Anders agree with me one hundred percent,” she says, interrupting me. “This isn’t something I just decided. Anders and I have been talking about you ultimately taking over the place for a year or so now. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t planned to retire just yet, but with my girls coming into our lives and now the baby coming, it’s the right time.”
“Fuck, you’re actually serious about this aren’t you?” I say, sitting up straighter as my heart thumps excitedly in my chest.
“As a heart attack,” she replies, her smile wide and genuine.
“Holy fuck,” I shout, jumping up from my chair. Grits stands too and I scoop her up and into my arms, twirling her around the room.
“Put me down,” she cries, the laughter and her wide smile making her face look younger and brighter.
Lowering her to the ground, I grip her biceps. “Thank you,” I say gruffly, my voice full of emotion.
She nods, nothing more, but I swear her eyes are glassy. Lifting her hand, she pats my cheek. “Come on then, I need to eat, then take my man home. I still have a club to run.”
“You want me to come in?” I ask.
Grits smiles but shakes her head. “Nope, celebrate tonight. I’ll see you at eleven tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a little salute. Then I blow her a kiss and she laughs as she leads the way out of Prez’s office and back into the clubhouse.
The table I left with only Blade and Daisy sitting there, is now filled with people. Nikki is sat on Blade’s lap, his hand possessively spread across her stomach. Angel is in the chair I vacated, and Park and Rosie fill two more seats.
“So?” Blade asks when I reach them.
Spreading my arms wide, I tilt my head to the side and flash them the cockiest smirk I can manage. “You’re looking at the newest trainee manager of Leave it to Beavers, the best titty bar in the entire state.”
The group bursts into raucous applause and whoops of excitement and I feel my cheeks heat. This feels right, like this is how my future was supposed to change. I take the only remaining seat at the table and a shot glass is immediately handed to me.
“To the boss of all things topless and covered in glitter,” Daisy pronounces.
I raise my glass into the air, then throw it back and everyone except Nikki and Dove follow suit. Grabbing the bottle, I refill everyone’s glass, then raise mine into the air and tilt it toward Blade and Nikki. “To Blade for knocking Nikki up so Grits wants to retire,” I shout gleefully.
Blade’s caveman smirk makes me laugh, but Nikki shoves his shoulder and scowls at me.
“I hate you all,” she hisses, her hand rubbing at her pregnant belly absentmindedly.
Blade covers her hand with one of his and uses the other to grab the back of her head, turning her face until he can claim her lips with his. A mild sense of jealousy pangs in my gut and I look at each of my brothers in turn and then at the women they have claimed as theirs.
Nikki is feisty and confident. She doesn’t need Blade, but together they work, and my V.P. is the least scary he’s ever been. Dove is young and so fucking innocent; she instantly makes you want to protect her. Daisy is obsessed, his eyes drifting back to her, constantly watching; like his world starts and ends with his woman.
When my gaze collides with Rosie’s, she winks at me, and I can’t help but chuckle. She’s so fucking perfect for Park and I couldn’t be happier that she’s here with him. If she hadn’t come to him, he would have given up anything to be with her, even this club and his family.
I’m not sure I’ll ever find a woman that makes me feel that way, like my heart beats only for her. That without her the sun dims and life becomes less vibrant. Woman are too easy for me. It sounds fucking conceited, but I can have anyone I want and none of them have ever made me take a second glance, let alone changed my world.
Perhaps I’m not meant to be a one-woman kind of a man? I enjoy the variety of picking whoever takes my fancy that day. I’m not a total dick. I might only be interested in a one-night-stand, but I still make sure that every woman that gets into bed with me leaves happy, satisfied, and several orgasms lighter. But why limit myself to a pretty goldfish in a tank when I can take my pick of all the fishes in the sea?
Anyhow, tonight isn’t about women. Tonight is about celebrating the next stage in my life. Tonight is about family, and these people around me are my brothers and sisters.
As we ride through the dark city streets on the way to my hotel, I glance at the man sat next to me in the back of yet another luxurious town car. Unlike earlier, I had no choice but to slide into the soft leather back seat when the uniformed driver held the door open for me. Hell, I didn’t even get a chance to ask the driver his name.
To Dan this is normal, he never even glanced at the driver when he slid in next to me or said please or thank you when he told the driver where to take us. The self-proclaimed gamer geek is underneath it all a little bit of an entitled rich kid too.
My parents are comfortable. They own a beautiful house in a fairly affluent area, but wealth on the scale that I’m sure Dan is used to, isn’t something I’ve ever experienced. For some reason I feel like it might leave a bad taste in my mouth. I have no problem with nice things or the occasional opulent indulgence, but the expectation that I’ve glimpsed tonight from Dan feels a little distasteful.
The conversation during the delicious meal we shared was a mix of work and first date questions. Dan had asked about my home in New York, my family, and even the other contracts I’d worked on. For some reason I found myself giving almost vague answers and I’m not entirely sure why.
There were moments when Dan felt like one of my people: the strange, pale kids who spend too much time behind a computer screen, killing soldiers or orcs in one of the video games we play. But then there were moments when his sweet geek attitude evaporated and a glimpse of a demanding CEO peeked through.
I don’t really know what to make of him and that unsettles me. When I get a chance, I fully intend to interrogate Tony for details about Dan, but until then I’m stuck having to try to figure him out on my own.
I might be a geek, but I’m not an innocent little virgin, and I swear there were times tonight when Dan was flirting with me. Even now, as we sit quietly in the back of the car, he’s sitting a little too close, his thigh pressed against mine even though the car is huge and roomy.
Dan is nothing at all like Greg and I don’t know if it’s the three Martini’s I’ve drunk tonight, but I’m definitely starting to appreciate his boyish good looks. I’ve always had a thing for men in glasses. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve always worn them, but Dan’s black-framed glasses give him this sexy Clark Kent vibe that has definitely made me wonder what he’s rocking beneath his shirt. I like that he’s not ostentatious, at least not about the way he looks. Greg always dressed for impact; his shirts tight across his muscles, his hair groomed to perfection. But Dan is messy in a polished way. He’s good-looking, but he’s not flaunting it and I like that.
I’m unsure why the conversation has stilted now when earlier it had flowed effortlessly. Neither of us has spoken since we got into the car and as we pull up outside my hotel, I fight not to exhale with relief. I want to open the car door and escape
, but I don’t, waiting patiently for the driver to come and open it.
“Thank you for a lovely meal,” I say as the door opens and the noise of the city fills the interior of the car.
“You’re welcome. Did Al give you his number so that you can let him know what time to pick you up in the morning?”
“Err, no, he didn’t. But it’s fine. I can walk to the office or grab a cab,” I say, as I turn to the side and exit the car feet first.
I don’t expect Dan to follow me out, but he does, and before I can leave, his hand is on my arm stalling me. “Riley, I’d prefer Al pick you up. I know you’re used to New York, but it’s easy to get lost in a place you don’t know.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he speaks first, stopping me.
“Here,” he says handing me a business card. “Al’s number is on there; just call or drop him a text to let him know what time you need him and he’ll be there waiting for you.”
I open my mouth again, intent on assuring him that I don’t need a driver, that I’m a city girl and that in comparison with New York, Houston is a walk in the park. But again, he interrupts me. This time it’s by reaching for my hand and lifting it to his lips to drop a whisper of a kiss against the skin.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Riley,” he says, then he releases my hand and climbs back into the car, leaving me shocked and speechless right there on the sidewalk. Greg never tried to cosset me or look after me, I was the nurturing one in our relationship and he just assumed I was capable of looking after myself. Dan’s protective attitude and his gentlemanly behavior isn’t at all what I’m used to.
Stumbling through the lobby feeling a little shell-shocked, I manage to make it back to my room without falling on my face. Surely, it’s a little inappropriate for a boss to be kissing his employee’s hand? But then Dan isn’t really my boss; at least not in a permanent sense. Is this what he meant when he said he might be able to convince me to stay? Is he hoping to seduce me into taking a permanent role with him?
Working from home most of the time, I’m not experienced in the etiquette of inter office flings, or whatever this is, or might be, or I’m imagining it could be. Who the hell knows what that was? Maybe he wasn’t flirting with me in the restaurant and maybe that uber romantic back of the hand kiss was how he says goodbye to all of the women he works with.
Maybe it’s a money thing? Perhaps that’s how all rich men say goodbye to a woman? Gah, I have no fucking clue. Flopping down onto my big bed, I kick off my shoes and roll my eyes at myself. I am not this girlie about stuff like this. Dan is cute. He’s a geek, but my gut reaction is that I’m not sure if I like him or not. Something about him doesn’t make sense. Half geek, half something else that I can’t quite figure out just yet.
Pushing myself back up again, I walk to the bathroom and start to run a bath, drizzling in some of the hotel’s complimentary bath oil. Within a few minutes, steam is rising, and the heavenly smell of jasmine and lemon fills the room.
I quickly strip, dropping my clothes in a pile on the floor and climb into the tub. A sigh escapes me as I sink into the warm water, my cell gripped in my hand resting on the side of the bathtub. Leaning my head back against the tile wall, the water gradually fills around me, covering me inch by inch in the warm, aromatic liquid.
There is nothing in life as good as a hot bath. I do my best thinking, have my best ideas, and I am my most centered in the tub. I know some people hate them, but a tub filled to the brim with hot water is my happy place.
With my eyes closed, I inhale the scented steam and relax until the water has covered my breasts and a sheen of sweat appears across my forehead. Lifting my foot, I turn off the faucet and exhale again, letting the day, the night, and all of my other stresses melt away in the heat of the water.
Moving my arm from its resting place, I unlock the screen on my cell and click into my favorite playlist on Spotify; the melodic strains of a popular country song bursting to life. Country music is my guilty pleasure. I’d deny this fact vehemently if anyone ever questioned me about it, but when I’m alone and I need something to listen to, country is my jam.
Clicking into my email, I quickly reply to a couple of time-sensitive questions; then click into an email from Pierre, apologizing about not keeping me apprised of the permanent job offers I’d gotten since we started working together.
Rather than reply, I decide to call him, and he answers on the second ring.
“How mad at me are you?” He asks, his voice small and wary.
“I’m not mad at all. How long have we known each other?”
He pauses for a second, then says. “Since freshman year of college.”
“Exactly. You know me, we’ve been working together forever. You know what contracts I’ll take and the ones I won’t. If you bombarded me with every job offer no matter how ridiculous that came my way, I’d never have any time to do any work.”
“I know, but I never even considered you might have wanted a more permanent role,” he cries.
“That’s because I don’t,” I interrupt.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I cry. “I’ll admit, I was a little thrown when Dan said he’d been offering me a job once a month for the last two years. But at the end of the day I wouldn’t ever have taken any of those jobs, because I’m happy being freelance. I enjoy the freedom and the money and the fact that I get to pick and choose what projects I work on.”
“I’m sorry, Ry,” Pierre says.
“Don’t be, it’s fine. You just keep doing what you’re doing, that’s exactly what I want. Just maybe in future let me know if the new client I’m going to work for has been job stalking me.”
He laughs and I hear his exhale. “I will, I promise.”
“Good, now I’m going to enjoy my bath and you can stop stressing.”
“Eww, are you naked right now?” Pierre gasps, his voice a little appalled.
“Oh shut up. If I had a dick, you’d have no problem talking to me while I was naked,” I tease.
“But then it’d be phone sex, darling.”
I laugh. “Bye, P, speak to you later.”
“Bye, love you.”
“You too,” I say then end the call.
Swishing my foot from left to right, I click into my Facebook app and then into my messages. There’s a new one from Rosie and I eagerly click into it.
Rosie: Hi hun, did you take the job? Are you in Houston yet?? Let me know so we can arrange lunch or dinner or drinks or something lol.
I smile at her enthusiasm. It’s been far too long since I saw the happy little redhead and I actually can’t wait to catch up with her. Holding my cell tight in one hand, I type out a response with the other.
Riley: I’m here!!!! Just got in today.
Three dots immediately appear at the bottom of the message screen and I wait as she types a reply.
Rosie: YAY!!!!!!
I laugh. For two intelligent, well-educated women, we sure do like exclamation marks. The three dots appear again before I have a chance to type out a reply, so I swish my feet under the water again and wait for her message.
Rosie: When can we meet up? How about Friday after work? We can either go out in the city or you can come see some small-town Texas.
A frisson of excitement bubbles through me. It’s been too long since I had a good girlie catch up, so I quickly reply.
Riley: Friday is perfect. Are you in the city that day, or would you be coming just to meet up?
It only takes a moment for her to reply.
Rosie: Friday is one of my office days this week, so I’ll be there anyway. There’s a great sushi place not far from my building if you fancy some tuna rolls and sake?
I moan. I freaking love tuna rolls and I can almost guarantee I’ll be thinking about them until Friday now she’s mentioned them.
Riley: Perfect! How does seven thirty sound?
Rosie: It’s a date! Can’t wait to see you xo
We message ba
ck and forth a few more times. She sends me a map link to the restaurant and then we exchange cell numbers and say goodnight.
After washing my hair, I reluctantly climb out of the bath and wrap my hair and body in huge, fluffy white hotel towels. My hair is too thick and too long to leave wet, so I drag a brush through the damp length and quickly blow dry it with my hairdryer.
Flushed and hot from the heat, I crawl beneath the cool bed sheets, shoot a quick text to Al asking him to pick me up at eight am, then promptly fall asleep.
The morning comes too quickly, and before I know it, my alarm is beeping at me and I’m dragging my ass up and to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, my hair is twisted into two buns at the top of my head and I’m wearing soft, well-worn skinny jeans and a t-shirt proclaiming that ‘God is a DJ’. After seeing how casual the dress code was yesterday, I decide that I don’t need to even pretend that I’m attempting business wear. I might not be able to wear my pajamas, but at least I can be comfortable.
Grabbing my purse with my laptop safely stowed inside, I check that I’ve got my keycard, then head downstairs to meet Al. He’s standing next to the big black car when I exit the lobby and I smile brightly as I skip toward him.
“Please tell me there’s a good coffee shop on the way to the office?” I beg, the moment I reach him.
Al rolls his eyes at me good naturedly. “Coffee is bad for you.”
“Yes it is, but I’m addicted, so help a girl out.”
He laughs, then motions to the car. “Get in, I know a place.”
“Al, you are a lifesaver.” I say, then before he can argue, I open the front door and climb into the passenger seat.
“You’re gonna get me fired,” he says, as he climbs into the driver’s seat and effortlessly pulls into the busy street.
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” I say. “I’d totally fall on the sword for you, my friend.”
He laughs, shaking his head at me. Five minutes later, he pulls up outside a coffee shop and I almost leap from the car, my body desperate for its first caffeine hit of the day. “What do you drink, Al?” I ask.