Page 6 of Maverick

My brothers order a fuck of a lot of chicken wings, but all I can focus on is her. On her easy smiles and laughter, the casual way she handles them.

And the way that when she looks at me, her smile is friendly, with none of the suggestiveness from before. All my plans for the night, the weekend, and the next several decades go up in smoke. Okay, maybe it wasn't decades. I'm not an idiot. But I saw the possibilities. I felt them in a way I hadn't felt anything before.

She leaves to put in the order, and I sit, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. Yeah she's an employee, but that's never stopped us before. Not when it really mattered anyway. Declan and Cara met at work. So did Jonas and Janey. Why not me?

Jonas calls my name, pulling me from my pity party. “What?”

“How did you not know she worked here?” Jonas asks, very slowly, like I just got knocked in the head. I hate it when he does that. If he were closer, I would flick him on the forehead. That would make me feel a little better.

“I own it, I don’t run it. Trixie handles the whole place. She’s the manager.” Yeah, I spend time here, but most of it is talking to Trixie. I'm only out on the floor if I'm here with my brothers. Any other time I’m here, I’m behind a desk in the back.

“So you don’t think she came here, wanting to work for you? Maybe she’s playing an angle?” John asks, looking all kinds of suspicious.

An angle?My stomach twists. It wouldn't be the first time. Men as rich as we are? We're targeted all the time, and the possibility that stunning woman is running a con in here just sucks all the color out of the room. Maybe she is, though. How did she end up here otherwise? Yeah, coincidences happen, but that’s a pretty fucking big coincidence.

“No,” Nick says firmly. “That’s not her. At all. That woman is a straight shooter, and one of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met. If she’s here, my guess is Bree or Maya mentioned the club to her. You heard her. She needs the work.” That’s a possibility. I know several of the women are volunteering there from time to time. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.

But she needs the work. She said so. And she made it really crystal clear that she's not going to be dating the boss. She's smart. She shouldn't. If I were her friend, I'd tell her it's a shitty idea. But I'm not her friend. I'm just a man that wants her, andthe realization that I lost any chance with her a minute after meeting her, grates.

Searching the room for her, I spot her delivering beers to a table of suits. She's smiling with them too, flirting.

Maybe she's just a natural flirt. One of those women who love all men.

Maybe there was nothing special about me at all.

2

CADENCE

"Order for the boss's table," I say, pushing the ticket through the window to the grizzled man on the other side. As always, he grunts as he takes it. He's going for grumpy, but the man looks like a younger Santa Claus, and he just can't pull it off.

"It's a good thing he upgraded the walk-in. I had to triple the wing order after they all came in the first time. Those big fuckers eat a lot."

Big fuckers is right. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was looking at a table full of rugby players. Big, muscular and yummy with thick thighs and–You’re working Cadence, focus.

Laughing, I leave him to it as I circulate again, taking a few more drink orders. All the while, I sneak glances at the table of big men in the back. I've met most of them at my rescue, but they were drunk and running amok like a bunch of kids.

Sober, they pack a punch. They ooze power and confidence enough to make little old me shy.

Nah. Who am I kidding? I don't have a shy bone left in my body. Haven't for years. And I'm woman enough to admit they're all yummy and I look forward to seeing them again.

Especially Maverick. My boss.

And isn't that just a bummer? The hottest guy I've seen in a year, maybe longer, and he's off-limits. It's so sad, because the second I spotted him, a whole list of very athletic activities I wanted to do with him ran through my brain.

God, the things I would do to that man…if he weren't my boss.

I drop off some beers to a table of guys in suits, then head back to the kitchen. I need help getting all the wings to the boss's table, but I make sure I put the plates I'm carrying right in front of him.

Sue me. I want a quick sniff.

I want another hit of that warm, musky smell. I love the way a man smells when his aftershave or cologne is only a memory, and all that's left on his skin is him. I've learned from very personal experience that if I like a man's natural smell over dinner, I'm really going to like it when he's sweaty from working me over.

And Maverick's smell? Addictive.

But nope, not going there. Not ever.

I need this job too much. The tips are fantastic, and the staff are kind and welcoming. Honestly, it's the best side hustle I've ever had, and I have had a lot of them.

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