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I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize Maria hasn’t called off, but I can’t completely relax until I see her walking in through the door. I need to have a talk with her, but am dreading it. Still, my employers expect me to maintain the place, and hiring, firing, and employee relations all fall on me.
“Hi, everyone!” Maria greets, her apron over her arm, a big smile on her face.
Ugh. She’s so damn sweet. Why does she have to be as flaky as a croissant?
“Afternoon, darlin’,” I say, giving her a wave from behind the cashier computer.
She comes around and says, “My horoscope says I’m going to be dealing with some intense stuff with my job today. Looks like we’re probably gonna get a big lunch rush and some unsavory customers.” She ties her apron and rubs her hands together. “But I’ll be ready for ’em!”
I want to groan. Her horoscope was right (for once) but the “intense stuff” isn’t a lunch rush. I don’t want to crush her obvious good mood, so I decide to have that talk with her later toward the end of her shift.
“I love that positive attitude!” I say with a fist swoop and a smile, turning my attention back to the register. Then I say, pointing to the food window, “Table three’s order is up.”
“On it!” she replies, rushing over and grabbing the plates.
I head into the kitchen, say hi to Rick, then into the very back where the brewery equipment is. I look at the large copper beer silos and check the hoses to make sure they’re working right, then the tanks that hold the beer output. They’re all full, and the hoses connected are functioning properly.
I exit the warm, muggy room through a small door that leads to my tiny office. One desk, a computer, and a desk phone. I flip the light on and boot up the computer, ready to make my weekly report to Lincoln Silverstone, the smoking-hot brewery god and also one of my bosses.
I smile as I pull up the Excel app to get started on my alcohol inventory spreadsheet and think about my sexy boss. Those bright blue eyes. That lightly bearded Hollywood jawline. His towering height. I’m no short girl, five-seven-and-a-half, but he towers over me, even on the rare occasion I wear something with a heel.
I let out a dreamy sigh and wonder when he’ll be in the pub to visit. Usually, he comes in with his brother Nathan and his cousin Roman. A few months ago, Nathan and his now-wife Sierra had their bridal shower here. Rick, Carter, and I busted our asses to make sure it was perfect. They wanted to hire a caterer, but we took care of the food and drink instead, and had put out a huge spread for them.
Speaking of spreading… God, I’d love to see what Lincoln would do with me.
Sigh…
Lincoln came to the shower alone, I remember. I watched him the whole night when I wasn’t checking if anyone needed anything. He seemed disinterested in the festivities and was looking at his phone a lot. I did catch him throwing the occasional glance my way, and I would always return it with my best, sexiest smile. I tried not to wonder if he was texting other women while he was looking at his phone, but something told me it was probably company-related. That boy is nothing but business, it seems, and I sometimes wonder if he’s gay. But the way he looks at me occasionally, I can see heat in those sky-blue depths. I’ve been around enough men to know the look, even if it was just the occasional brewery patron or some guy flirting with me in the grocery store.
No… I know he’s at least partially interested and deem that he’s just shy, or too busy, or maybe he already has someone.
My computer beeps with an email, breaking me out of my memory. I click on it.
To: Quinn Walker
From: [email protected]
Subject: Monthly Reports Due
This is a reminder that your monthly alcohol bottle inventory and food discrepancy reports are due by COB tomorrow.
I hope you have a great rest of your day! ~Trish
Tricia Williams, Executive Assistant
Silver Holdings, Inc.
“Don’t count the days. Make the days count.” -Muhammad Ali
I shake my head. I wouldn’t miss a deadline; I know the rules. I love my job too much to mess that up. Using the handwritten pages from Carter, I input the information into the spreadsheet. It isn’t very time-consuming since I’ve been doing it so long, and after that is done, I pull up another to get started on my loss report.
This is less fun. Things I have to report like the free steak tips and green beans I’d had to give out to the entitled hens who were in here earlier. Thankfully, I keep detailed notes of all the freebies and require my staff to tell me immediately when they’ve had to comp anything, as well. Although usually, the customer demands to see a manager and I’m the one giving out the free crap.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
