one
Dean
“Why does it looklike a gang of drunken leprechauns threw up inside here?” Wilder raises his mug of green food coloring-tinted draft beer to his lips, his gaze taking in the decorations—Lainey, my lead server and sometimes bartender, hung throughout the bar—from the four-leaf clover garland strung from wall to wall to the rainbows with their pots of gold swaying from the wood ceiling beams, to the cutout leprechauns themselves pasted on every open spot on the walls.
“Because it’s St. Patrick’s Day, idiot.” I don’t bother explaining that Lainey’s had me wrapped around her little finger since Halloween, two weeks after she moved to Temptation Ridge and started working for me at my bar, Whiskey Mountain.
She’d only been working there for two weeks, and she was already pestering me to decorate and dress up for Halloween. She even convinced me to wear a pirate costume while serving drinks behind the bar. It was just a pirate’s hat since I refused to wear the white ruffled shirt she wanted me to put on. Lainey dressed as a bunny—not one of those tiny, sexy costume bunnies with bowties and high heels, but still pretty sexy in a white T-shirt with the bar’s name on it, a short white skirt with a puffy white tail attached to the back, and white bunny ears on her head. Like most of the single guys in the bar that night, I spent way too much of my time watching as that puffy tail swayed back and forth to the rhythm of her hips as she walked through the bar serving drinks.
From what I can tell, Lainey greets every holiday with excitement and joy. She even convinced me to open the bar for Thanksgiving and Christmas, serving turkey and ham dinners to customers who were alone during the holidays.
New Year’s Eve was my favorite holiday with Lainey. When the clock struck midnight, she was right there with me, standing on her tiptoes to give me a kiss. As she whispered, 'Happy New Year' against my lips, I wanted to lift her over my shoulder and drag her back to my cabin to have my way with her, but since I’m a thirty-three-year-old virgin, my confidence faltered, and I pulled away. The confused, hurt look on her face nearly broke me, but I knew it was the right thing to do. She’s full of sunshine and joy—a sweet treat wrapped in a sassy bow who’s off limits to me. I’m her boss and a decade older than her—she deserves better than a crabby bar owner.
My rejection hasn’t stopped her from tempting me, whether it’s intentional or unintentional—her body rubs against mine as we squeeze by in the tight space behind the bar. It never happens with any other employee, and I don’t notice her doing it with anyone else but me. I know I should put a stop to it, but I can’t—it’s the one guilty pleasure I let myself indulge in with her, even after placing her in the friend zone.
“Ah, so yet another one of Lainey’s ideas.” Wilder places the mug of green beer back on the bar, and everything in me wants to pick it up and dump it on his head. But before I can, Wilder glances over his shoulder. “Here comes your little leprechaun now.”
My eyes follow his gaze, my breath catching in my throat as Lainey glides through the room, heading to the bar while every unattached guy under the age of one hundred watches her every move.
Her outfit screams St. Patrick’s Day, from the shiny green sequins on her short skirt that hugs her hips to the long, thigh-high green socks with a lighter green shamrock pattern thatreveal her thick thighs, to her black short boots. I save the best view for last: her beautiful smiling face, framed by her gorgeous strawberry blonde hair that flows down her back in soft waves. Her green eyes sparkle as they land on mine. I let my eyes travel down her face to her mouth, begging to be kissed, to the soft curve of her face before dropping to her large chest encased in a green T-shirt that reads, “You can’t kiss me, but you can tip me” across the front. It isn’t the suggestive words that make all the blood from my brain head south, causing my cock to harden—no, it’s the bar logo on the left-hand side of the shirt that has me going caveman, knowing she’s wearing my brand, marking her as mine.
“Wilder.” She nods at Wilder before stepping behind the bar. “Excuse me, Dean, I just need to grab my apron and tray from behind the bar.” I know exactly what’s going to happen, but I’m too far gone to try to stop it.
She takes a step toward me. Normally, I would move back as far away from her temptation as the bar and the wall behind me would allow, but not today. I hold my ground, not moving a muscle. She blinks up at me, unaware of the shift in our game of cat and mouse. Little does she know, I’m tired of being the mouse she plays with and torments.
As if a light bulb goes off in her beautiful head, she takes another step closer to me, her hips shifting to the side as she tries to slide past. Usually, it’s just a light graze of our clothes against each other. Sometimes, a slight press of her hip against mine as she slides by, but today—today I want more. Her ass grazes my hard length that’s been straining against my jeans since I saw her from across the room, wearing that ridiculously sexy leprechaun outfit. With a mind of their own, my hands grip her hips, pullingher tighter against my body. A soft gasp escapes her lips, and I can’t help myself; I pull her closer, letting her feel how much I want her.
It isn’t until Wilder clears his throat that I remember we are in public—in my bar, to be exact—and I release Lainey, causing her to stumble on the rubber mat beneath our feet. Her body twists and turns, trying to catch her balance before falling into my arms as I catch her before she hits the floor. Our lips are inches apart—all I would have to do is lower my head a couple of inches. Instead of kissing her like I want to do, I straighten up, taking her with me. Once we’re upright, I let go of her and growl, “My office now.”
two
Lainey
The feel of Dean’shard length against my backside is burned into my memory. I might be a twenty-three-year-old virgin, but there was no mistaking his desire as it literally pressed against me—with these damn clothes blocking our skin.
For five years, I have been searching for a place where I belong. Ever since I aged out of the foster system and bought the cheapest car I could afford, I’ve traveled across the country looking for a place to call home. I knew the moment I coasted into Temptation Ridge almost six months ago, I’d found the place I wanted to put down roots.
Having worked odd jobs since I was fourteen has prepared me to do any work just to survive. But it didn’t prepare me for Dean—my older, attractive new boss. Waitressing and bartending come naturally to me, but the way Dean makes me feel is something I’ve never experienced before.
Dean is the last part of my life I didn’t realize I was looking for—well, almost. He’s also the father of our future children, whom I’ve always dreamed about. Unfortunately, he hasn’t picked up on any of my hints. Instead, he’s put me in the friend zone.
Believe me, I’ve tried to show Dean how I feel about him with all the subtle and not-so-subtle touches. New Year’s Eve should have been a wake-up call for me when he pulled away from me while I was trying to kiss him. But I didn’t survive eighteen years in foster care and five years on my own without fighting tooth and nail for what I want—and what I want is Dean.
The warm touch of his hand on the small of my back as he guides me into his office sends a pulse of electricity straight to my clit.The soft click of the door as it closes reminds me of all the things the couples do when they sneak away from the bar for some alone time in Dean’s office.
Dean has complained more than once about the horny mountain men who can’t keep it in their pants long enough to make it home and instead hook up with their wives or girlfriends in his office. As a joke, someone hung a flip sign on his office door, with "occupied" on one side and "unoccupied" on the other.
My eyes drift over to his desk, and God help me if I don’t imagine I’m bent over the polished oak of his desk, the cool wood a shock against my heated bare chest as my fingers curl around the edge of the desk in anticipation of his next move. With his hand still pressed against the small of my back, it doesn’t take much to imagine that same hand pinning me in place on his desk as his other hand pulls my skirt up, the fabric easily sliding up my thighs and over my hips, bunching at my waist as the cool air caresses my soaked panties. In my mind, he doesn’t ask—he just takes, ripping my green lace panties from my body.
I shiver at the thought until a more depressing thought invades my brain, causing me to wonder if Dean has brought women back here to hook up with.
“Are you cold?” Dean runs his hand up and down my back as if trying to generate heat to my already overheated body.
“I’m fine.” I take a step forward, trying to put some distance between us before I do something stupid like beg him to bend me over his desk, just like in my imagination. “What did youwant to talk about?” I lean against his desk, needing the support to get me through being this close to him.
When I look into his face, his eyes flicker with lust for just a moment, and I almost convince myself I was imagining it until he opens his mouth. “We can’t go on like this.” He runs a hand through his thick black hair, making my fingers itch to join in and see if it’s as soft as it looks.
“Go on, like what?” I hold my breath, dreading the answer. It can’t end like this—all my dreams of marrying him and starting a family can’t end in his office on a holiday.
