So tell Des you don’t want to be a manager. That you don’t want to be tied down to something with so much responsibility.
But then he’d be failing his friend. He cleared his throat and shoved the annoying thoughts aside, making the changes she suggested. Sure enough, the “total” cell flicked from red to green, indicating that he’d gotten the hours down to the projected amount.
“Fat fingers,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not built for sitting at a damn laptop all day.”
“Me, either.” Libby dropped a hand down to his shoulder. “Come on, you’ve earned a drink. I’ll even make it for you.”
“Better not contain any sprinkles.” Noah hit the print button and pushed up from his chair. “You know I don’t do that girlie shit.”
“I’ve got three new recipes for us to try tonight and two new vodka infusions. I promise at least one of them will put some hair on your chest.” She winked. “Not that you need any help in that department.”
He chuckled. “I definitely don’t.”
He might not have an Italian heritage like Paul and Des, but he could still grow a respectable beard. Shaving had fallen by the wayside the last few days, and working double shifts to keep the bar going meant he cut whatever corners required to get his requisite sleep. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the small window over the desk. Libby wasn’t wrong; he was about twenty-four hours away from looking like he should be swinging an ax rather than making coffees.
She tucked her arm through his and dragged him toward the office door. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited the new girl along. I thought it would be nice to include her.”
The “new girl” had been tempting him all week long—to the point that every time he saw her standing in front of the espresso machine, he got flashbacks of her bare butt and that black lacy underwear holding her skirt captive. Not to mention those long, toned legs and the pencil-thin stilettos. He could already picture how amazing they’d feel digging into his back as she locked her ankles behind him…
Christ. Will you get a hold of yourself? The starving animal act is a bit much.
“The more the merrier,” he said as casually as possible.
“She seems sweet,” Libby said as they walked out of the office. “I think she’ll fit right in.”
The bar itself was still open, but the kitchen had closed for the night. Des had recently hired two extra bartenders to help him manage the area while Paul was getting the mixology classes off the ground. They looked like they were handling the crowd okay, but Noah stopped to let them know he’d be upstairs if there was any trouble.
“Look at you taking to the boss role like a duck to water,” Libby said, her high heels clicking on the wooden stairs that led up to the function room. “You’ve got everyone in this place wrapped around your little finger.”
“That’s because I control the booze,” he said with a laugh. “At least, for now.”
Libby’s response was drowned out by a raucous cheer from the group waiting for them in the function area upstairs. The room had been transformed for the mixology class. A trestle table sat at the front and was covered in bottles of alcohol, cocktail shakers, and other implements. Several smaller tables had been set up with tools and glasses. The room was decorated with white paper lanterns, blow-up palm trees, and some strange-looking green pom-poms made from tissue. No doubt Libby’s doing.
“I finally managed to drag him away,” Libby announced as she gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. The group cheered.
He caught Paige’s eye as she gave him a shy little wave that was like a jolt of electricity to his nervous system. She wore a short denim skirt and a black tank top, which left miles of beautiful freckle-dusted skin free. Her hair was piled on her head and there was a smudge of pink across her lips that was doing unspeakable things to him.
“About bloody time,” Paul said with a grin as he slapped a hand down on Noah’s back. “You’re holding up the drinking.”
“Okay.” Libby clapped her hands together and gave the usual preamble about responsible drinking and taxi vouchers before launching into the class. “The theme of this mixology class is ‘Sun’s Out, Puns Out,’ and all the cocktails will have fun summer-themed names.”
“So we’re all clear, the pun thing was Libby’s idea. I take no responsibility for all the bad jokes that will inevitably come out tonight.” Paul held up his hands and ducked as she tried to swat at him.
Noah laughed, but for some reason his throat felt a little tight. Paul and Des were his best friends, and they’d both managed to find happiness with gorgeous women. With Des it hadn’t been a surprise—the man was built for the family life. But Paul had been a staunch bachelor for years. He used to rib Noah about all the failed relationships—questioning why he even bothered—but now Paul was so in love with Libby that he couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at his fiery fiancée.
That’s because Paul and Des come from a good family. They’re good people. They have something to offer that you don’t…a future. Commitment.
“Don’t mind Paul, he’s determined to be a buzzkill,” Libby said, smoothing her hands down the front of a frilly green dress. “We’re going to have a few competitions tonight. To keep things fun, and you’ll be put into teams of two. Noah, why don’t you get the party started?”
She held forward a glass bowl. He plunged his hand in and felt the edges of small pieces of paper graze his fingertips. When one caught between his thumb and forefinger, he had a name dancing around in his brain.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” Libby said.
His eyes flickered to where Paige stood, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched him intently. He unfolded the paper, and her name stared up at him as if conjured from his deepest desires.
“Paige.”
“Oh, the boss and the new girl.” Libby gave him a shove toward Paige as she called the next person over to draw a partner from the bowl.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Noah said as he ambled over to Paige. He tucked the paper with her name written on it into the pocket of his jeans.
“I guess I’ll have to be well-behaved, then.” The laugh that followed sounded tight and a little too high-pitched. Nervous.
Up close he could see her pink lipstick was glossy and wet-looking, like she’d run her tongue along her lip. Something so innocent had no place lodging dirty images into his brain. But he wondered how her lips would look if he kissed her—would that pink smudge and smear? Would her lips become puffy and swollen?
“Don’t think you have to play nice on my account,” he said with a smirk. “I’m not planning on wining any gold stars tonight.”
“What’s the point of playing if you don’t want to win?” She cocked her head.
“Ah, so you’re the competitive type.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out all gravelly and low, but something about Paige roused his rougher side. The side he usually tried to tame with an easy smile. “Sometimes losing is more fun. It all depends on the stakes.”
She blinked. A flush bloomed across her cheeks that matched the shade on her lips. She was fresh as a fucking daisy, and if that didn’t spell “stay the hell away” then he was shit out of luck.
“Too bad. I don’t lose.” She smirked at him.
“Wanna bet?” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. What was it about her that fired up the part of his brain responsible for bad decisions?
“You know I do,” she said with a grin. “Five bucks says your competitive streak will make an appearance before the first cocktail is done.”
“You’re on.”
Libby had clapped her hands over the din of the participants pairing up. “Okay, if all pairs could pick a station, we’ll get started. The first activity in tonight’s festivities is a simple taste test. Paul and I are going to reveal two new vodka infusions that we’ll be stocking here at First, one of which will be an exclusive.”
Paige pi
cked a table, and they stood behind it. There were two small bottles of clear liquid labeled only as A and B. Next to them was a black blindfold. Paige picked it up, her delicate fingers brushing over the silky material. For some reason she refused to look up at him, but he didn’t miss the subtle movement of the muscles in her throat.
…
From the second Paige had walked into the function room at First, she’d been asking herself what the hell she was doing. For starters, next to the two other women here tonight, Paige felt as though she looked like the epitome of a country girl. Her denim skirt and plain black tank were worlds away from Libby’s ornate silk dress and sky-high heels or her friend Nina’s edgy studded leather skirt and sheer blouse.
Now she was holding a blindfold while trying to ignore the flutter of excitement in her stomach at the thought of her new boss slipping it over her eyes. Her fingers toyed with the elasticated band meant to hold the mask in place.
“Both partners are going to get a turn at being blindfolded,” Libby said from the front of the room. “Between yourselves, pick who’s going to go first.”
Noah looked down at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He ran a hand along his jaw, catching the reddish-gold bristles of his burgeoning beard. For a moment, Paige was totally captured with the idea of how the bristles might feel on her skin. Would they be smooth or rough? Would she shriek if he brushed them along her inner thigh?
“What do you say, new girl?” He cocked his head. “Would you rather do the blindfolding or be blindfolded?”
At that point she would have been happy to go all in—blindfolded, tied up, and held down.
Holy crap, would you listen to yourself? This is a work function, not a goddamn re-creation of Fifty Shades.
“Blindfolded,” she squeaked, thrusting the mask into his hands and spinning so quickly that she almost lost her footing.
“You know, I’ve never done this before.” His hand steadied her, the reassuring warmth of his touch seeping into her skin. Her bones felt like jelly.
“Blindfolded someone?” she asked, cringing at how shaky her voice sounded.
“Ah, no. I meant the taste test.” He chuckled as he slipped the mask over her eyes.
Heat rushed up to Paige’s cheeks. Of course he meant the taste test. What an idiot she was. Just because her brain was earning an R-rating tonight didn’t mean his was, too. She fought back a tremor as he brushed some loose hairs from her neck so he could adjust the strap on the mask. Everything went dark, and Paige gripped the edge of the table for support.
Warm breath whispered over her ear, and she could tell he’d leaned in a little closer. The scent of coffee and faded cologne tempted her to turn her head toward the source.
“I’ve definitely blindfolded someone before, but it wasn’t for a taste test.”
Her breath hitched, and she was grateful that she’d had the presence of mind to hold on to something. “Oh.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what she said.”
Holy. Freaking. Shit.
Paige’s lady parts were practically singing for how hot this man was. Hot and oh so off-limits. She wasn’t about to get herself fired from the one job she’d actually been offered—even if she didn’t plan to stay here long term. In four weeks, this job would be the only thing keeping her from going home a failure unless something else came up.
And budging on her morals had gotten her into trouble last time. She should never have said yes to her colleague when he’d asked her on a date. Keeping work and play separate had been her policy from the very beginning—but she’d been naive and didn’t want to rock the boat. Besides, what harm could a simple dinner do?
A lot, as it turned out. And that meant she wasn’t going to let Noah lead her down the path of temptation, no matter how much her body hated her for it.
“All right,” Libby’s voice oriented Paige to the front of the room. Without her sight, everything felt amplified, including the heat radiating from Noah. “Can I please get the partners without the blindfold to pour a shot of the bottles marked A?”
A clink made Paige’s head turn; it sounded like glass hitting wood. A rush of alcoholic scent. Then the glug of liquid. An appreciative hum from someone nearby.
“Can the people without the blindfolds bring the shots up to the nose of their partners? We’re going to see if people can guess what the infusion is from the scent.”
Noah’s hand landed on her bare arm. “I’m going to bring this up to your nose now. Don’t move, I don’t want to end up wearing it, all right?”
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath as the scent grew stronger. Something fresh, crisp. “Hmm, that smells good. I want to eat it.”
It was a strange sensation not being able to see and having to trust that he wouldn’t accidentally dunk her nose in the shot. And while the alcohol smelled good, all her senses cared about was the scent coming from one hunky guy standing right in front of her.
“What do you think it is?” he asked.
The false intimacy had awareness tingling in her bloodstream, an insistent little hum that pumped all the way through her. “It smells minty to me…but with something else. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Want a taste?” The low gravel of his voice brushed over her sensitive nerve endings.
“Yes.” The word escaped her lips like a sigh before she could stop it. The reaction was instinctual, immediate. So unlike the way she did anything, but the second she’d set foot into First, her usual way of doing things—along with the part of her brain that kept her hormones in check—had flown straight out the window.
“I’m going to bring this up to your mouth.”
Something wet and cool touched her lips, the distinctive taste of vodka mixed with that sharp freshness of mint and something sweet. Fruity. “Is it berries?”
She licked her lips and could have sworn she heard a soft moan of appreciation. Where had it come from? Or had she totally imagined it? She wanted to rip the blindfold off and check Noah’s face…among other things.
“Do we have any guesses as to what we’ve infused this vodka with?” Paul asked the room.
“Is it berry and mint?” Paige said, turning her head to where she hoped Paul and Libby were standing, the blindfold still covering her eyes.
“It is. Well done, Paige. This mix is blueberry and mint, and we think it will be the perfect summer drink for First’s customers.” Libby instructed them to remove their blindfolds and have a proper taste of the vodka. “We’ve got some soda water and ice up front if you want to try it as a mixer or feel free to try a shot straight if that’s more your thing. Then you can swap for the next taste test.”
Paige pulled the blindfold over her head and pushed back a few loose strands of hair from her face. Her cheeks felt hot—not the kind of hot from being out in the sun, but rather the kind of hot that made her think of dark, sweaty nights and declarations of oh, yes.
Noah topped up her shot glass and then poured one for himself. “Gold star for you.” He flashed her a grin. “I bet you were one of those straight-A students. A regular Little Miss Perfect.”
She took the shot from him and narrowed her eyes. “I know how to have fun.”
They both knocked back their drinks, and Paige let out a satisfied hmmm.
“That’s damn good,” Noah said, putting his glass down. He flashed Paul and Libby a thumbs-up. “I don’t normally go for the fruity stuff, but Lib knows what she’s doing.”
“So she comes up with all the infusion recipes?” Paige latched onto the safe topic of discussion.
“Yeah, the vodka line was all her idea. That’s how she met Paul. It’s a funny story, I’ll tell you one time.” His eyes darted to where Paul and Libby stood at the front of the room, looking every bit the loved-up couple. “The mixology class was his idea, but now that they’re getting married, they’re managing it all together.”
“Well, they can count me as a new fan. That was delicious. Might be the best
discovery I’ve made since I came to Melbourne.”
“That’s a big call,” he said with a sly smile.
Okay, second-best discovery.
Paige busied herself with collecting up the dirty shot glasses and putting them into the tray marked “to be washed” that Libby had thoughtfully provided each table.
“Looks like it’s my turn to get blindfolded,” Noah said as the rest of the groups returned to their table.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she said.
Noah’s eyes raked her up and down, causing a tight ache to gather between her legs. “That’s a shame.”
It was. A damn shame. But that didn’t change a thing. Paige was going to keep her hands off her super sexy boss, even if she couldn’t keep her imagination in check.
Chapter Five
By the time they reached the tail end of the mixology class, the group was getting a little rowdy. Libby put the food out early in the hopes that a meal break would give everyone a chance to soak up some of the alcohol before they jumped into the last activity.
Thankfully, Noah had an iron stomach and could hold his alcohol like a champ. So he kept an eye out for the employees and made sure that no one was going beyond their limits.
“Glad you could drag yourself away for the session tonight,” Paul said as they stood to the side of the room, pizza in hand. “Seems like you might have caught some of Des’s workaholic ways.”
“There should be a vaccination for that.” Noah bit down on a steaming slice. “At least my case is only temporary.”
“Not if Des has his way. And he’s going to be in for a shock when the baby comes. Can’t keep up that pace when you’re only getting a few hours of sleep each night.” Paul shook his head. “I know he wants to give you a more permanent gig looking after some of this management stuff.”
Noah tried to tell himself the promotion would be a good thing—the extra money could be used to support his sisters, especially since Megan was getting married soon. But on the other hand, his policy was always to set the bar low when it came to commitment. Hard to disappoint people when they didn’t expect too much. And he liked floating through life unburdened by expectation, to know that he only needed to worry about himself. It might sound selfish to some, but to a kid who’d been kicked out of every home he’d ever had…well, being a lone wolf meant control. Security.
Betting the Bad Boy (Behind the Bar) Page 4