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“So?” Paisley can’t bite her tongue any longer.
“They’re from California. Clear across the country. I’m not paying for relocation expenses. And it’s a man. The dancers here might take issue.” I frown. If Paisley didn’t think I was being picky about candidates before she will now.
The other applicants have restaurant and bar management qualifications, but none have had experience in entertainment, let alone adult entertainment.
“You’re a man.” She jumps up and walks behind me to scan the resume over my shoulder.
Paisley is relentless about treating my employees fairly. I know her well enough now than to close out the window before she can peek. So I stretch, looping my arms over her neck, and tugging her closer. If I have to endure this, I might as well get the chance to touch her.
This time Paisley’s squeal is excitement. “Jake, this guy is an assistant manager at a club on the Sunset Strip! They have similar experience to what Sweet Caroline’s needs. If he’s dealing with the demands of bands and producers, then strippers can’t be that hard.”
“That’s what you think. Strippers makeeverythinghard. It’s in their job description,” I wisecrack.
“Ugh!You had an assistant manager before. I heard Holly was a flight attendant before taking her role here.Hmm…Although, I suppose that gave her the wherewithal to handle handsy men.” Pais leans to the side. In my peripheral vision, her fingertips on one hand lock together with the emphasis of a five-star chef describing a dish. “This person is per-fect-ly qualified. Why are you being such a pain in the ass and dragging your feet over hiring extra help?”
Paisley goes back to leaning on my shoulders. Reaching forward she slides the contents of the screen up and down.
Telling Paisley I don’t want to hire anyone sounds priggish and cheap. I’d give my left nut to have two full-time managers. But the only people I’d hire are the women who made this place worthwhile for me to show up to. When I bothered to show up, since they always had everything under control. Kimber and Holly aren’t coming back. Not that I blame them.
Okay, I blame them outwardly, but on the inside? Given the chance, I’d escape this place, too. I’ve only stuck around because Sweet Caroline’s keeps Caroline—my mother—living the dream. I’m responsible for running the club to make up for the shit my dad pulled that ruined my parents’ marriage. I’m the last person anyone would accuse of being a martyr for doing what was right. It also doesn’t mean I like the lot life threw me. I fucking hate it because I literally learned to fucking walk crossing that stage. I had bigger plans than to bum around Sweet Caroline’s my entire life.
I flex my hand, curling my fingers, and bouncing an imaginary weight. The palm falls up and empty. “Want the job? I’ll hire you.”
“Not at all,” she scoffs.
“Well, that sucks, being you are the most qualified candidate.”
“Me?” She motions to her clothes. “The girls on the floor wear skimpier outfits.”
Paisley must not have gone to yoga today since she is wearing ripped blue jeans and a sleeveless navy halter with a gray cardigan over it to ward off the March chill. She has her hair pulled up the way it was when we met, but not as fancy. I don’t particularly like it this way. However, when she moves, the sweater exposes the smallest amount of skin between her neck and her collarbone. So, I guess I can live with it.
I wish the top had a keyhole view of her cleavage. Pais has great boobs. Full and lush, I’ll admit I’ve pressed her chest closer to mine to feel them through the layers of fabric separating us.
Sweet Caroline’s has a dressing room filled with G-strings and pasties. I can change Paisley’s outfit in a heartbeat. Yet, right now, I like how mygirlfriend’scovered-up, sexy style allows my imagination to ponder over the entire reward of finally getting her naked. Meanwhile, I can still believe no other man is looking at her like she’s one of the dancers when she’s in the theater.
“It’s not what you wear, it’s how you wear it. What I really mean is, if you’re stuck with me, at least I’d want to be here if you were here.” Paisley is becoming one of the few people I can stand being around for extended periods of time.
“Okay, that was the weirdest backhanded compliment. Plus, you wouldn’t have to be here as much if you had another manager.”
“I’d lovecominghere, though.” I bat my lashes the way the flirty girl did at Paisley’s boutique.
She snorts, covering her face. We agree the pickup line was awful. I lace my fingers into hers and drag her onto my lap. Our faces are close and, about to kiss her for no reason other than I can, there’s an odd lightness in my chest.
We’re interrupted when a bouncer cracks the door to tell me. “Trig Avery is waiting at the bar for you.”
Have mentioned I hate interruptions? They mess with life’s best-laid plans.
“Have him hold tight. We’ll be out in a few minutes.” I tap Paisley’s hip to get her off of me. “That is your cue to go.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why insist I even come tonight, Jake?”
“Because you’re easy to tease and easy to talk to, Paisley. Which takes a load off of my shoulders while getting to know you so that my rat bastard friends stop hounding me about needing what they have. And look,” I check my watch. “Tonight you’re off the hook early. All you had to do was be your beautiful, cranky self.”
“If I’m cranky, then you are stubborn. It’s like you want us to be doomed to be stuck here when we don’t have to be.” She half whines-half sighs, exasperated.
“Us, huh? Where else would we go?” I cock a brow, adding with my best bedroom voice. “Give me a kiss and I’ll ditch Trig and take you there right now.”
“There’s nobody watching.”
