I carefully picked my way through the clusters of tables stacked with stools and chairs to make the floor accessible for the cleaning company arriving early in the morning. My mind reeled with timelines and weekends gone by.
“Was that really the last time you closed? When you had to have your appendix taken out?” I knew it wasn’t right, but I also didn’t get why he was celebrating.
He laughed. “Not quite. But this is the first time we’ve been alone since then.” He looked back at the shot glasses. “I don’t know. I was hoping to impress you with being less of a fuck-up than usual.”
My heartbeat picked up again. This time, fight or flight was for different reasons. “I don’t think you’re a fuck-up.”
He hit me with those green eyes, his expression unrepentant. “Ada, you think everyone’s a fuck-up. I don’t take it personally.” He ticked his chin at the lone barstool he’d left out for me. “Sit.”
For some reason, my independent ass obeyed. “You make me sound like a total bitch. I don’t think that. I like most people.”
He slid the shot glass toward me, the second one of the night. “You like almost zero people.” He laughed again at my outraged expression. “Ada, come on, I’m messing with you. You’re always pleasant. Verbally. It’s your face that gives you away.” He swirled a finger in front of my face. “All those snobbish thoughts play out in your eyes and make it clear to the rest of us peons what you really think of us.”
“Maybe that’s true for you, but I’m nice to everyone else.” My dignity had landed somewhere on the sticky floor, but I was desperately trying not to let him make me feel bad.
He leaned forward on both elbows and picked up his shot glass filled nearly to the brim. “Well, if we’re going to talk about me specifically, I think we can both agree that those thoughts don’t stay in your head. Those special ones actually get said out loud.” I had just opened my mouth to defend myself when he added, “We get it, though. You’re obsessed with me. And honestly, why wouldn’t you be? If I were you, I’d be obsessed with me too.”
I snorted, despite myself. “You’re so full of shit.”
He grinned. “Come on. This is good. You’re going to love it.”
Lifting the tiny glass, I held it between my fingers. He reached his toward mine, and we clinked glasses.
“To bosses who keep your ass in line,” he said before he tossed his back.
I followed suit and sputtered a little at the strong burn of whiskey as it traveled down my throat. Raising an eyebrow at him, I tried to cover my shot shiver and said, “You know, technically you’re my boss.”
He reached for the whiskey bottle and poured another round while trying to hide his shit-eating grin. “Oh, I am well aware.”
Ah, so he was toasting himself. And making me feel like an idiot in the meantime. “You’re full of something tonight, English. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s potent.”
Handing me the new shot, he let our fingers bump in the exchange. “Just feeling good tonight, Ade. I like it back here”—he indicated the bar—“and business is doing well. You didn’t try to stab me tonight. So many reasons to celebrate.”
“You should have taken Ally home, then.” I heard how petty it sounded as it left my mouth.God, why did I say that?I didn’t even care. Charlie was free to do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted. But... why did I have to sound so... ugh.
He cocked another judgy eyebrow at me. “You know I thought about it, but a certain not-boss made it very clear I had to keep my hands off all the pretty new servers. I remember my body being threatened.”
Had I threatened bodily harm? Probably. “But she’s not your boss. So you don’t have to listen to her.”
He held my gaze. “She might not be my boss, but she is very bossy.”
My cheeks flushed, but it was obviously because of the whiskey. “Well, maybe she’s very invested in making sure your business succeeds.”
He didn’t flinch. “Maybe I appreciate that about her.” I swallowed thickly, but he wasn’t finished. “Maybe I’m willing to listen to her threats—”
“She would never threaten.”
“Maybe I’m willing to listen to her, er, aggressive advice because I realize that.”
I clinked my little glass with his and nodded my approval. “To amazing employees who have our best interest at heart.”
Before I could throw mine back, he added, “And our love lives.”
I sputtered on the whiskey again, which was too bad because I loved whiskey. I would never treat it so poorly as to choke on it—unless Charlie was throwing around inane accusations while being nice.
Then all bets were off.
“Careful.” He grinned.
