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SEBASTIAN
There aremany perks to owning one of the hottest bars in New York City, but my favorite by far is being able to stroll in on any given Tuesday and find a gorgeous woman just waiting for me to sweep her off her feet.
Or, at least into my bed for the night.
This one is hanging by the empty bar, and even though we’re technically closed, I’ve got no complaints. She’s got a dark, choppy haircut, and is poured into black jeans, with a T-shirt reading, ‘Stitch Bitch’ emblazoned across her chest.
Her eyes land on me, and for a moment, I feel the strangest prickling in the back of my neck. Forget ‘gorgeous. This woman is the kind of beautiful you find in paintings hanging in grand museums. The kind that drives a man to foolish poetry and—
“Are you going to stand there staring all day?” she interrupts me, hazel eyes flashing with amusement.
I clear my throat.Get your shit together, Seb. “Not at all,” I say, my English accent just about as crisp as the day I left. “I was just thanking whatever lucky stars brought a woman as lovely as you into my life.”
I flash a smile. She rolls her eyes. “I’m looking for Charlie,” she says. “Or Dash?”
“Now, why would you waste your time with those guys?” I joke. “Scoundrels, the both of them. I’m one of the owners,” I add proudly. “I’d be happy to help with anything you need.”
The woman looks me up and down, and for some unfathomable reason, doesn’t seem impressed. “I’m Jenn’s friend, Roxy, and Iwashere about a bartending job, but if you’re the management…” She gives me another look, turns on her heel, and stalks towards the exit.
Shit.
“Wait a sec!” I call, hurrying after her. Charlie’s been complaining for weeks that we’re understaffed and overstretched, and there’ll be hell to pay if I’ve just driven off a prospective new hire. A friend of the Mavericks family at that. “Roxy!”
She turns back.
“Sorry for the mix-up,” I flash her a smile, the one that usually reduces single women—and married ones—to melted butter. “Please, come sit down. Let’s chat. Can I get you a drink?”
Roxy stares back, unmoved. “It’s noon.”
“Lunch then,” I offer. “Our line cook Eddie makes the best burger in town.”
She pauses, assessing me. “Fine,” she finally softens, following me back across the room. “But no tomato,” she adds.
I blink, horrified. “A burger without ketchup?”
“I said tomato, not ketchup,” she corrects me, and I have to grin.
“Because they’re entirely different things?”
Roxy’s lips finally quirk in a smile. “Obviously.”
She hops on a barstool and sheds her leather jacket as I go relay the order to the kitchen - and try to get my business head on. Believe it or not, I care about our nightlife empire being the best around, and the bar staff are the foundation of the whole business.
Flirting will just have to wait.
I join Roxy by the bar. “Do you have a resume?” I ask, tearing my thoughts away from the soft curve of her lips and the way her hazel eyes are sparkling with challenge.
She shrugs. “I don’t need one.”
“That good?” I chuckle, impressed by her brazen attitude.
She smiles back, matter-of-factly. “The best.”
“Alright,” I say, thinking fast. “Make me a Rum Martinez and a Pisco Sour,” I name two complicated cocktails. “And a martini, dry, twist.”
“Not so fast,” Roxy says. “I have some questions for you.”
“For me?” I ask, surprised. “I think you’re forgetting how job interviews work.”
