Dating the Boss

by Kate Swain

  Dating The Boss

  An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

  Kate Swain

  Copyright © 2020 by Kate Swain

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Country Love (Excerpt)

  About the Author

  Blurb

  I'm her boss.

  Over a decade older.

  This isn't in the handbook.

  She smells like strawberries.

  And oozes with sin.

  I never should’ve hired her.

  She’s too young and beautiful as hell.

  I’ll never keep my hands off her.

  I want her so bad I ache for it.

  But I know she wants it too.

  The only thing worse than trying to resist her,

  Is finding out she’s in danger.

  Some asshole is stalking her.

  Too bad he didn’t factor me in.

  Because once I’ve had her, I won’t let her go without a fight.

  And I've never lost a fight.

  She’s going to be all mine.

  1

  Amelia

  The moans and giggles coming from the room next door became a little louder. Somebody gasped. A male voice chuckled. I heard a sigh and then a loud shriek. Giggles and more sighs followed.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” I whispered.

  It was all too clear what my nearest neighbors were up to. I would have to buy them a proper bed one day, I thought with a wry frown. The creaks were even louder than the giggles, and both made it altogether obvious that my friend Tanya and her boyfriend weren’t watching TV in there.

  “I need a house,” I groaned.

  The sound of my best friend having sex in her bedroom was not the thing I would choose, given a choice, to hear as I tried to go to sleep. The sea, perhaps. The sound of water running downhill. Hell, even sleeping over the top of the busiest club in town would be more conducive to relaxing!

  “Go to sleep,” I muttered, wiping tousled blonde hair out of my eyes.

  I couldn’t be angry with Tanya, not for anything. She was kind, generous, friendly, everything a friend should be. And she’d let me stay here for a month, sleeping in her living room on a pull-out sofa. It was the best option after I’d finally run away.

  I heard another shriek, and then silence. I sighed and reached for my headphones, hoping to drown out any additional noises that might come out of there. It was eleven p.m. I noticed, laying back down.

  “Hey! Don’t go in there,” my friend’s voice called out, just as I was drifting off to sleep. I sat up suddenly as the light switched on. A massive individual, arms corded with muscle, blocked out the light from the doorway. I heard Tanya shout.

  “Tex! Stop! There’s water in the bathroom, and you’ll disturb Amelia, who’s sleeping in there.”

  “Sorry.” The massive man turned slowly, a distressed expression on his square-jawed face. “I didn’t think.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Tanya said primly as she joined us. Naked, wrapped in a small towel, Tanya sat down wearily on a seat. She smiled at me. “What are you looking at?”

  I looked at her, dumbfounded. It was late at night, I was trying to sleep, and she comes into the room naked? Followed by something Doctor Frankenstein would have balked at? I didn’t know what to say.

  “Um, this,” I said.

  I lifted the newspaper from the seat beside me.

  Tanya, who did not have much capacity for irony, lifted the paper and looked through it. Her man friend poured water and gulped it noisily. I looked away. He was dressed, fortunately, in a pair of trousers. I spotted a big leather jacket draped over the dining room chair and assumed that it belonged to him.

  He reached for it, confirming my suspicions. As he did, he leaned over Tanya’s shoulder, touching her bare skin. She giggled.

  “What do you have?” he asked, looking at the newspaper.

  “Nothing interesting,” Tanya murmured, looking up at him with fond eyes. I smiled to myself. It was a pleasure, I thought sadly, to see such closeness. Tanya might be a bit crazy, but she had a fine heart. And Tex, evidently, did too. He leaned down to kiss her brown hair fondly.

  “That’s a good bike shop,” he said, pointing to something in the newspaper.

  “It’s an advert for a job, not a bike, silly,” my friend said.

  My ears pricked up. A job was something I had been looking for a lot recently. Ever since I moved out of Mom’s house, in fact. I surreptitiously reached for the newspaper. Tanya let me take it.

  “Well, whatever. It’s the best bike shop in town. Can’t do better than Brand’s. Only people I let near my machine.”

  “Oh, are they?”

  I bit my lip as my friend looked naughtily up at Tex, whose faced reddened. Evidently, the “machine” Tanya referred to was not the one he’d ridden to get here. He swallowed hard.

  “You know what I mean,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” Tanya giggled. “I do. Now, don’t you have to go already?”

  “I should,” he said, shrugging on a shirt and then the jacket. It made him even wider than before. “I probably need an early start tomorrow. We’re taking a ride.”

  “I see,” Tanya said. I smiled. My friend could find innuendo in almost any words. Tex, though, was a bit more down-to-earth. He just smiled.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Well, goodnight. Goodnight,” he added, shaking my hand. I took it. His grip almost crushed my fingers. Tanya let him out, and I heard a kiss in the hallway followed by giggles.

  “Sorry,” she said, coming back into the living room. “He had to leave early. They’re taking a ride to Stafford tomorrow.”

  “It’s not that far from Kansas,” I said, frowning. It was about a hundred miles from here, I thought. It wouldn’t take all day to reach it.

  “Well, yes. But it’s a breakfast ride.” Tanya grinned. “So they want to get going early.”

  I just smiled. Bikers were a breed of people I doubted I would ever understand. They had their own tightly-connected groups of riders, their monthly rides, and their rivalries about which bikes were better—BMW, Ducati, or Hyundai. I hadn’t known many bikers, though my father—or so my mother said—had been one.

  I wouldn’t know about that.

  My father left us when I was four. I barely remembered him. Mom didn’t talk about him much, except to say disparaging things, and I didn’t entirely blame her. Life was hard without him, and Mom often struggled to raise me alone. If she had felt less need to find a man to help her take care of things, our home and relationship would have been better.

  Especially since Mom doesn’t have much luck.

  I shuddered.

  Mom’s latest boyfriend had been the reason why I left home. He had been more than a
little interested in me—his words and visits when I was in a room alone scared me. I couldn’t tell her, and I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I was grateful that Tanya had let me stay at her place. It was the first time in months that I had felt safe from that guy and his intentions.

  And now, I thought, reaching for the paper, I needed a job. When I had that part sorted out, I could really straighten out my life.

  “I’ll go and get some sleep,” Tanya said from where she was tidying things in the other room. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Goodnight,” I added fondly.

  “Goodnight.”

  With Tanya gone, I read through the newspaper, searching for that advertisement she had found. I scanned the advertisement listings and saw the name she had mentioned. Brand’s Bike Shop.

  We are looking for a skilled receptionist and bookkeeper to manage records and appointments for us, the advertisement read. Apply in person at the following address. The position is currently open for immediate filling.

  “They sound desperate,” I murmured. “That seems good.”

  It would certainly work to my advantage. I wasn’t an accountant, but I had experience in bookkeeping, from when I helped my aunt Stella at her shop. I could certainly handle the phone and MS Office, and, for what it was worth, I had credits for the first two years of Social Work.

  I wish I’d finished.

  I bit my lip. I would never stop feeling bad about that, but I couldn’t afford to continue at the university after my second year. I was twenty-one when I left, and now at twenty-four and without a home, it seemed too hard to take up my studies again. That was another reason why I wanted a job: not only did I need money for my own place, but I also wanted to save so that in a few years I could finish my degree. I put the newspaper down with a sigh.

  It’s worth thinking about.

  If they were really that desperate, I thought with a sad smile, then they might take me.

  I sighed. I really ought to be more cheerful. After all, I’d escaped Luke Lowry, mom’s creepy friend, and I was living here. That was much better than two months ago! And I’d managed to do that alone. With some help from Tanya, of course.

  I was sure I could find a job.

  I lay down again, my eyelids drooping with weariness, thinking about the job at the bike shop.

  I stirred awake, feeling the softness of the pillow under my head and the warmth of a soft blanket. “Amelia?” somebody called, making my eyes open wearily. “Amelia? Are you awake?”

  “What?” I groaned, sitting up. I was surprised it was morning already. The bright light flooding in through the curtains suggested it would be a good day. I rubbed my eyes and started making up my bed.

  “Good morning,” Tanya said cheerily from over at the stove. “Coffee, anyone?”

  I gave her a look. “What a question.”

  She laughed, and I heard the clink and rattle of the coffee mugs as she set them out. Coffee was something Tanya was passionate about. Tanya was, now that I thought about it, passionate about everything. It was the thing I loved most about her.

  “Hey, girl!” she said, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it over to the table. I had hastily pulled on jeans and a blouse, my tousled hair hanging down to my shoulders, unbound. “You look stressed.”

  “Not really,” I said. I reached for the coffee, taking a sip. The bitter taste woke me. I blinked, feeling my brain slowly get into action. “Just thinking.”

  I had woken up with the newspaper beside me. I was sure now that I wanted to apply. The address was nearby, in the industrial part of the city. I could get a bus there. I was still making plans when Tanya’s voice interrupted me.

  “What’s up?” she said. “Are you okay? I just asked if you want fried egg.”

  “Oh!” I shook my head. I hadn’t heard her. “I mean, yes. Please.”

  She stared at me. “What’s up?” she asked. I heard her open the bottle of oil, the slight gulp of the pouring of it, and then the click as she put it back. She turned around to face me. “You seem stressed. I haven’t seen you like this in ages. I hope you’re not pissed off at me?”

  “Tanya!” I shook my head, laughing, even though I did have a lot on my mind. “Why would I be? You’ve been so nice to me.”

  “I just cleared some space in my living room. It’s nothing,” Tanya said gently.

  The notification pings on Facebook bothered me as I glanced down. I knew who it was: Luke Lowry. He kept pestering me. I was scared of his unwillingness to leave me alone, but I didn’t know what to do. And it wasn’t him so much that was on my mind. I kept on thinking about the job possibility, and I didn’t let my mind stray to him and how frightened he made me.

  “If it’s that job you’re thinking about,” Tanya said, surprising me with her insightfulness, “maybe Tex could help? He said he knows the place. He could take you there or something.”

  “That’s really nice,” I said warmly. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Amelia, sweetie… don’t be silly. You’re my friend. It’s what friends do. And not only that—you’re a sweet, wonderful woman. I’d have to be a monster not to help you. Anyone would.”

  “Thanks, girlfriend.” I swallowed hard. My voice was raw. I was deeply moved by her statement. Maybe she was right, I thought, as she started frying the eggs. I went to tidy up the mess from preparing the coffee. Maybe I should think more highly of myself. If she could see good in me, then I could, too.

  And maybe it was time to take the plunge and apply for that job. I should start to believe in myself. After all, bike-shop owners couldn’t be that scary, could they?

  2

  Carter

  It was very hard not to hit somebody sometimes. I knew I shouldn’t, but at that moment, I wanted to hit him. I looked down at the desk and breathed slow, steady breaths.

  My one chat with a therapist—which had been a few days after my discharge from the army—had taught me that it was better to slow down before you did something spontaneous. Straight out of Anger Management 101. But it was still hard.

  “What the hell is all this mess?” I shouted quite loudly, but nobody took any notice. I didn’t expect anybody to. After all, only my brothers—Matthew and Mark—were in the shop, and they never took me seriously anyway.

  “Shit.”

  I looked down at the desk. The notepapers with our header, “Brand’s Bike Shop—the best bike shop,” were scattered over everything, including the month’s calendar, an incomprehensible schedule, and loose receipts. It was chaos.

  How am I supposed to work when I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when?

  I felt my hands ball into fists.

  “Carter? Hey! Carter! You in there?” somebody shouted from the workshop outside.

  I swore under my breath. “Mark? What the hell is going on out there?”

  “I’m Matthew. Would you please not do that? It’s undermining.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. My younger brothers were identical twins. Yes, they did sound similar when they spoke. And I understood that they hated it when people got them confused—admittedly it happened less now that they were twenty-eight.

  “Sorry, Matthew. I’m stressed.”

  “I can hear that.” Matthew appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t know whose repair order we should work on next. How much I was paid this week or even last month. Or who called. What the hell are we going to do about it, eh?”

  I gestured at the front office, the desk, the telephone. It was a real mess. People had just been writing receipts when the work was done and throwing them on the desk. Nobody had filed anything for months. I understood it—when you’re working on engines all day and juggling customers, you don’t have time to file things. Or answer calls. Or do ledgers.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the boss.”

  That wa
s the other problem. At thirty-nine, I was the boss of Brand’s Bike Shop. It was a position that I still reluctantly filled, even though I’d been doing it since our parents passed away when I was twenty-two. Life and circumstance had thrust me into this position of custodian of the family shop.

  “Okay,” I said softly. One thing I had learned after seventeen years was that, if people saw you as in charge, you had to act like you knew what you were doing and make a plan, even when you had no idea what the next step was. “We’ve put out an advertisement for the job of secretary. So far, we haven’t got any applicants. Until we get a secretary, we’re just going to have to be more organized, okay? Receipts go in here.” I picked a book up off the desk. I had no idea what it was, but now it was for storing our receipts. “The schedule is here.” I threw down one of the stray pages. “And whoever’s closest answers the phone and writes details in here.” I picked up a pad of paper that was half-buried on the desk. “That work for you?”

  Matthew raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sounds good, bro.”

  I sighed. “Good. Now, how’s that fix coming along?” A customer had brought in an old Harley badly in need of care.

  Matthew grinned. “It’s going, all right. It’s really going. Mark already installed the new shocks and it rides as smooth as glass.”

  Carter sighed appreciatively.

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “Sounds great.”

  “I have to go and get the paint job done. You know how it is. Mark keeps hiding my gas-mask, though.” He chuckled. “I think I should give him a beating.”