Page 34 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Then that settles it!” Harry exclaims, clapping his hands together for extra emphasis. “You’re working here. Porter! Hire the girl!”

My snickers turn into full-blown laughter as I watch Quinn’s eyes get so big they might pop out of her head.

“What’ya say, Hurricane? When do you want to start?”

* * *

“Jaw up, boy. Can’t be staring at the help.”

I don’t offer a comeback to Harry, though I do make sure to close my jaw, as I watch Quinn gliding around the bar in awe.

In my defense, I think I’d be in a trance even if I didn’t know what she looked like underneath her T-shirt and jean shorts.

When I asked Quinn when she wanted to start, I didn’t think it would be immediately. But when she muttered the words, “Fuck it. Let’s go,” that apparently meant we were starting now.

Luckily, there’s not much to train when it comes to working here. She was quick to pick up my basic POS system, even having a few drinks in her. I told her how to take food orders to get it back to the line cook. Other than that, it’s just a matter of familiarizing yourself behind the bar of where certain liquors and beers are kept.

And she picked it up in no time. Which I expected. It gave me a chance to sit at the end of the bar, catch up on some bills and invoices, while she tended to the Tuesday night patrons who come in for fifty-cent wings.

The only problem now is that I haven’t looked at one number on any of these bills because I can’t take my eyes off her. Which apparently Harry has noticed.

“I wasn’t staring,” I finally say in my defense, making it a point to focus back on the water bill for the month.

“I get it, boy. She’s a stunner,” he says. “A spitfire, from what I remember. But that’s good. You need some of that in your life.”

Harry and my dad were friends since I was in diapers. I think he was The Joint’s first customer, and if he has his way, he’ll die on this barstool. With that kind of history, he likes to give me advice. Usually it’s about the bar and the things that day that are annoying him. Today, it’s about my newest employee.

“I’m just fine,” I grumble, though that’s probably not believable since I accidentally lifted my eyes to catch a glimpse of Quinn reaching up for the top-shelf whiskey.

“You aren’t. But I’m guessing you’re like your daddy and going to tell yourself that until you die alone.”

I don’t bother arguing his point. He’s right. Though I would defend that I’m not as much stubborn as I am determined.

Determined to not go through what my dad did.

Determined to live the life I want. A life that’s going to make me happy and not worried that at any second the rug is going to get pulled out from under me.

And right now, determined to not go behind the bar and press my body behind Quinn’s.

Fuck! No! What am I thinking?

She’s now my employee. I give her a paycheck. I can’t be fantasizing about fucking her behind the bar. Frankly, I shouldn’t be thinking about it at all.

Because Quinn is back. And yes, it may be temporary, but this isn’t like our weekend hookups. She’s going to be here the next day. The next week. The next month.

Which means she can’t be in my bed.

I signal for Jenny, my one and only waitress and the woman who truly keeps this place running, to come and watch the bar.

“Quinn? Can you follow me into the office?”

She gives me a confused look. “Don’t tell me I’m fired already. I need to have one job that goes more than four hours.”

I shake my head. “Nothing like that. Just want you to fill out some paperwork and go over a few things.”

“This feels so official,” she says as we both take a seat—safely apart, as my desk is between us. “Then again, I didn’t get to the point of filling out paperwork for any of the jobs I’ve had so far.”

I chuckle but don’t make a motion to grab the W2s and other tax information I’ll eventually need from her. Instead, I clasp my hands and rest my elbows on the desk.

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