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“What’s yours?” I ask, wishing more than ever I’d peeked at it earlier, but I’d been too preoccupied. I can deny it all day, but it’s much too late to pretend like I don’t want to know it.
“Jessa Morrow.”
A beautiful name for a beautiful beta. Fitting.
I’ve lost track of how much bourbon I’ve consumed over the last couple of minutes, but I can feel the effects teasing the edge of my mind, making my thoughts fuzzy. This is going to go south quickly if I don’t get away, but she’s making it impossible without trying. She has me in a chokehold, trapped behind the bar with far too much space between us.
I clear my throat, focusing my thoughts.
I need to put some distance between us.Now.
“I’m going to head to the office for a bit, but my manager Damon will be over to check on you,” I force out, not wanting to go but desperately needing to clear my head. “Is there anything else I can get you before I go?”
A wicked smirk upticks her lips as she teases her straw with her tongue. “Not unless you’ve got a job hidden somewhere behind this bar.”
Is she propositioning me?
No, that’s the alcohol attacking my rational thinking. Still, it sounds sexual.
“A job?” It takes me a moment to reel in my thoughts careening out of control and remember why she’s here drinking in the first place. She needs money, and the place she’d been applying to just slammed their door in her face.
We aren’t hiring by any stretch of the imagination–in fact, despite us being relatively busy most days, I probably need to start cutting people’s hours a tad to allocate funds to the new restaurant’s budget–but the idea is too tempting to let go.
If she works here, I can always make sure she’s taken care of. I can make sure she gets into her own place quickly and always has food to eat, but she doesn’t have to know those are my intentions.
No one has to know.
“Do you know anything about bartending?” My guess is no, but she’s been full of surprises so far. What’s one more?
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never worked in a restaurant before.”
That’s a shame. Bringing in someone with no restaurant experience can be difficult, especially considering how testy some of our customers are. They don’t have a lot of patience, especially during lunch rush, so that might be an issue.
However, she’s a blank slate. She can be taught and trained to be exactly what this restaurant needs, whatever it needs.
And she’ll be close.
“Are you willing to scrub the floors? Toilets?” I ask, curious to know how serious she is about working here. If she’s willing and up to the task, I’ll take her on, but I’m not jeopardizing the well-greased flow of my restaurant for someone who just gets in our way.
“Sure. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
For fuck’s sake.My thoughts immediately conjure a dozen different things I’d like her to do to me, and I’m already regretting my offer. How the hell am I supposed to function with her constantly around?
This is a terrible idea.
Such a fucking horrible idea.
But I’m in too deep to say no now.
“Come in tomorrow at three,” I tell her. “I’ll set you up an interview with Damon, our front-of-house manager.”
“You’re not going to tell me the position’s been filled when I get here, are you?” She cocks her head to the side, pursing her lips.
“Definitely not.”
She works her mouth back and forth, as though she’s debating taking the offer, but I think we both know how lucky she is to be considered. Who else can walk into a restaurant with no experience and get an interview on the spot? Not many.
How many can walk in with no experience and get hired immediately? No one.
