Chapter 1
Tilly
Sitting on the floor in the center of my living room, I count through the cash left in my savings jar. $42.15.Β Great. If I didnβt need that damn car to get to work, Iβd set it on fire. Iβll never get ahead at this rate.
I let out a sigh, stretching my legs out in front of me. βI am never going to college.β
Dropping the money back into the jar beside me, I let my head fall back against the couch. Itβs old and worn, and itβs seen better daysβjust like everything else in my life.
βGet used to it, Tilly,β I say to myself. βThis is obviously as good as it gets for you.β
Once upon a time, I had goals, dreams,Β aspirations. But that was before I found out that the college fund my grandparents had set up for me as a baby was emptier than the jar on my floorβthanks, Mom. When graduation came, the only hope I had to better myself was to get a job and save toward paying for community college myself. But two years later, we can see how thatβs goingβ¦
βWhatβre you doing on the floor?β my mother grunts as she shuffles toward the kitchen, obviously hungover, cigarette dangling from her mouth, and an empty coffee cup in her hand.
I hide the jar beneath the couch and stand. If she sees me with money, sheβll take it. βI didnβt realize you were home.β
βBoss cut my shifts again,β she says, her back facing me as she mutters, βWhy is there never any fuckinβ coffee made when I need it?βΒ Probably because youβre the one who drank itβ¦
I keep my job to myself, knowing it wonβt get me anywhere anyway and try to keep on topic. βWhy did he cut your shifts?β
She scoffs, sucking hard on her cigarette as she sets up the coffee machine to percolate. βA customer reckons I shortchanged him. And the customer is always right.β She rolls her eyes, blowing out a lungful of smoke as she puts the cigarette out in the sink and leaves it there. βWhat areΒ youΒ doing here?β
βMy shift doesnβt start for another hour. I was just about to get ready.β
She nods, pulling out a fresh cigarette. βRentβs due. Gonna need you to cover my half this month, or the landlordβs gonna kick us out. You know what heβs like.β
βSure,β I say, eyes down.Β Thatβs my paycheck gone.Β Iβll be lucky if I can afford ramen after this, but it wonβt be the first time. My mother has a habit of pissing people off. Hence why my college fund was empty by the time I needed it. She canβt hold down a job to save herselfβor me. She has sticky fingers and a quick temper, two qualities most employers donβt tolerate for long. Iβm surprised she hasnβt been arrested yet.Β At least thatβs somethingβ¦
I know I could leave. I know I could go somewhere else and start again, but where am I going to go? I have no money, no extended family; my car barely runs well enough to get me anywhere far, and even if I did leave, Mom would still hit me up for moneyβ¦ And I canβt say no to her. Sheβs family.
βYou hear that bar on Main Street is hirinβ at the moment?β She clicks her lighter, the flash deepening the dark lines around her eyes, showing her age. βThey need new girls.β
βIsnβt that one of those places where they dance on the bar?β
She nods. βReckon youβd do real well swinging what God gave you up there.β With the fingers that grip her cigarette extended, she points to my breast and hip area, indicating my abundance of curves.
βI donβt want to get up and dance, Mama,β I say. βI donβt have the coordination.β
βSure you do. And the tips will be a hell of a lot better than you get at that dive youβre working at now. You should apply.β
βIβm fine working at that dive.β
βApply,β she insists, cupping my face in her hands. βUse what you have to your advantage while youβre still young enough to make money off it.β
βI would like to use my brain.β
She laughs, but it turns into a cough. And she steps back, angling away from me. I pat her back until it subsides, wishing sheβd quit the smokes already.
βSweetheart,β she says when sheβs caught her breath. βI know you wanted better than this. Maybe this job is how you get it? Doesnβt hurt to try, right?β
βFine.β I roll my eyes. βIβll go down there and check it out. No promises, though.β
Mom smiles. βGood. Because electric is due in two weeks, and I doubt Iβll have the money to pay it.β She pulls the bill off the top of the microwave and hands it to me before she pours her coffee and leaves the room.
I look at the bill and sigh. Just like that, I know I donβt have much of a choice. Iβm getting a new job.
Β
Chapter 2
Noah
Clamping my hand around the wire strippers, I pull the plastic coating off the speaker wires and wind them together. This was supposed to be done three days ago, but good workers are hard to come by. I find myself being boss, repairman, barmanβyou name it, Iβm the guyβmore often than not. Next thing I know, Iβll be up on the bloody bar dancing myself. Thatβd be a sight.
I chuckle to myself as Iβm threading the wires into the wall before I hook the speaker in place. Big ex-military me, clicking my heels together and wiggling my ass.
βWhatβs so funny up there, boss daddy?β Elijah, my bar manager, says as he places his hands on the legs of the ladder Iβm standing on.
Pasting an unimpressed glare on my face, I stare down at him. βBoss on its own is just fine. I ainβt your daddy, son.β
His eyes light up as I realize what I just said. βBut you just called me son. And I would really love it if youβd be my daddy.β
I scoff out a laugh and climb back down to the floor, dusting my hands off on my jeans. βDoesnβt that count as sexual harassment or something? Asking your boss to be your daddy?β
Elijah purses his lips and juts out one hip as he considers this. βI think it doesnβt count if the employee does it to the boss. It only counts if itβs the other way around. Plus, I think youβd have to feel intimidated. And since youβre twice the size of me, big daddy, I donβt think youβre intimidated at all.β
I shake my head. βYouβre incorrigible, kid. Howβs everything for tonight?β
βWell,β he starts. βEverything is fine exceptβ¦ weβre a girl short.β He says the last part really fast, his hand half covering his mouth as he speaks.
βA girl short? Fuck. Who is it this time? Stacey? Natasha?β
βTonyaβ
βAre you for real? Thatβs the third time in a week.β I shake my head, hands on my hips. I donβt enjoy having to come down hard on my employees, but in this case, itβs affecting my business. I need a full staff to run efficiently. βNext time sheβs in here, tell her to come see me. Sheβd better have a good reason if she wants to keep working here.β
βYes, sir.β Elijah salutes, walking along behind me as I close up the ladder and carry it into the storage room. βI was kind of hoping that I could call one of the new girls as a fill-in.β
βAre any of them trained?β I take quick, long strides to my office and he runs to keep up.
βTrained in dancing, not so much in bar work. But Iβm sure I can teach them to pull a beer in no time.β
βWhat the hell are you doing hiring girls who canβt pull a fucking beer? This is a bar.β
βWith dancers. I have to hire them based on their moves, or whatβs the point in them being here?β
βTo serve food and drink. You know, the stuff that makes me money. Thatβs more important than how well they dance.β
Elijah places his hands on his hips and presses his lips into a tight line. βTry telling your clientele that. The girls are why they come.β
I stand in the doorway of my office and let out a growl. βI didnβt open this place so I could be a fucking drink slinger every night of the damn week, but fine, Iβll man the goddamn bar tonight.β
I slam my door, just as I hear him say, βThank you, daddy.β
As pissed as I am, it makes me laugh. He knows Iβm straight as an arrow, but he seems to get a kick out of this daddy gag he has going on. And heβs the best worker I have, so I let him get away with it. Still, the last thing I want is to be anyoneβs βdaddy.β Iβve got three grown kids of my own, and I sure as hell donβt need anymore, hell, I havenβt even looked at a woman for...fuck, I forget how long. Once my wife passed, I left the army life behind me and focused on working and raising my kids. Now that theyβre all off at college, Iβm finally in a position to do what Iβve always wanted to doβopen a bar with great music and even better food. All I need now is enough employees to run the damn place.
Β
Chapter 3
Tilly
Making my way up High Street, I find myself standing in front of the Stomp & Swill bar. Itβs fairly new in town, barely open six months. From what I hear, it can get pretty crazy in here. Iβm not sure Iβm ready to have men throwing money at me while I dance and pour liquor down their throats. I mean, I can do the pouring part, but dancing, even flirting, are foreign concepts to me.
But I need the money, and I have zero qualifications for anything else.
I raise my hand and knock, seeing through the window that a guy with spiked brown hair and black eyeliner is restocking the bar. He spots me and moves to the other side of the door. βWeβre closed, sweetheart. Come back at five-thirty when we open.β I can barely hear him through the glass.
βIβm here about a job,β I yell back, fighting against the noise of the street behind me.
βThereβs no Rob here,β he says, scrunching up his face and turning away.
βNo. AΒ job.Β I need work.β
He stops moving, turns around, and flashes a straight-toothed smile my way. βCan you pull a beer?β
βIβve been working at OβSullivanβs since I turned twenty-one in March.β
βShow me.β He pulls the door open and waves his arm to usher me in. When I hesitate, he purses his lips. βDo you want a job or not? I don't have all day.β
βOh, sorry,β I say, hurrying to step inside.
He leads me to the bar and gives me about a second to look around before he starts throwing orders at me. At first, Iβm not sure whatβs going on. But I quickly realize heβs giving me a test to see if I can handle the pace here. I twist my long blonde hair into a knot on my head and get to work. Heβs obviously never worked St. Patrickβs day in an Irish pub beforeβit was one of my first shifts, so I step up to this challenge with little trouble, lining up the orders without breaking a sweat.
βGood.β He nods, an interested gleam in his eye. βBut can you dance?β
βUhβ¦β My cheeks flame. βNot really. I mean, Iβm not sure.β
Tilting his head to the side, he frowns. βNot sure? How can you not know if you can dance?β
βWell, of course I can dance, just like anyone else can dance. But there havenβt been many occasions for dancing on bars in my life, so if Iβm being honest here, Iβm not sure how Iβll do with that particular requirement of the job, sir.β
βSir,β he repeats with a chuckle. βWhy in Godβs name would you callΒ meΒ sir?β
I open my mouth, closing it again when Iβm unsure what words I should be letting out. βWell,β I start. βI donβt know your name.β
βQueen,β he states. βIf you must call me anything other than Elijahβwhich is my nameβthen you may address me as queen. I run the girls, so youβll answer directly to me.β
βWait. Are you telling me I have the job?β My eyes go wide, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.
βIf you can be here at five, you have a job. But, sweetheart, you must learn to dance, or you wonβt last long here.β
βOh, I will,β I say. βIβm a real fast learner.β
He laughs. βThatβs what they all say. How about you clean up this mess while I get you some paperwork? Oh, and I should probably ask your name.β
βTilly,β I say, beaming while hoping my financial troubles are about to be a thing of the past. βMy name is Tilly Adams.β
βWell, Tilly Adams. Welcome to the Stomp & Swill.β
Β
Chapter 4
Noah
βDonβt mind me, boss,β Elijah says, bursting into my office and heading straight for the filing cabinet.
βNo daddy this time?β I joke while I continue inputting expenses into this blasted spreadsheet, one digit at a time. Computers have never really been my thing.
βIβm trying out this crazy thing called listening. Not sure how long itβll last for,β he teases back as he slides the drawer closed and turns around, new employee paperwork in hand.
βWhoβs that for?β
βWell, youβre about to love meβI have the answer to your prayers out in the bar right now.β
βThe answer to my prayers, huh?β I stand and move to the doorway. It gives me a view straight into the bar where a blonde with curves for days is rigorously wiping down the stainless steel prep area, her breasts and booty jiggling hypnotically from the movement. Iβm not the kind of boss who creeps on the girls who work for me. Iβve always been adamant about keeping my distance and providing a workplace that paid them well and kept them safe. We have a no touching policy that is fiercely upheld by security. But as I watch this new addition to our team drop the rag she was using into the sink then turn our way and smile, something flips in my chest and twitches in my jeans.Β Fuck.Β Iβm a fifty-three-year-old man. Iβve never had this kind of reaction to a woman beforeβespecially one whoβs obviously half my age at the most. But Iβm having visions of grabbing those round hips of hers and throwing her on the bar while I bury myself deep inside her. I want to take her home with me, wake up with her in my bed. I want to be the sole reason those pink lips of hers smile. I want her to beΒ mine.
βNoah.β Elijah clicks in front of my face, snapping me out of my inappropriate stare fest. I feel like a kid again, drooling over a girl Iβve no right to even look at.Β What is wrong with me?
βCan she pull a beer?β I demand, my voice gruffer than I intend as I frown and turn away from her.Β She looks too innocent to be in a place like this.
βThatβs what I was trying to tell you,β he says, looking at me like Iβve gone crazy or something. βTilly here can not only pull a beer, but she can make any drink order you can throw at her. Believe me, I put herΒ through it,Β and she passed with flying colors. And sheΒ cleans.Β Look at that bar shine! Girl, you are Godβs gift to us right when we needed you.β
The girl beams. βThank you.β My heart flutters even faster.Β What the fuck?
βOne problem,β Elijah starts. βShe canβt dance. Iβll need to teach her.β
βDance?β Alarm bells go off in my mind. I donβt know why, but the idea of her up on that bar, dancing for anyone other than me has all kinds of protective instincts inside me going haywire. βNo.β
βNo?β Tillyβs smile falls as she looks from me to Elijah. Suddenly I feel like shit. I never want this beauty to look hurt because of my words. Iβm quick to clarify.
βYou donβt need to dance. I want you on the floor, pouring drinksβno dancing.β
βOh. Um, OK.β
I catch Elijahβs brows knitting in confusion as I turn around and shut my door, flicking the lock behind me. The way her mouth looked when she formed that O with her lips has my dick straining to get out past my zipper. I need to put some space between me and Tilly before I say or do something crazy. Sheβs an employee. Sheβs young. And the way Iβm feeling toward her is not OK. In fact, itβs downright filthy.
