Page 17 of Her Possessive Daddies

"That's what they say." Her fingers drum against the wood. "Though usually not on Tuesdays."

"Must be the company."

A strand of her curly hair falls loose. She tucks it behind her ear, that blush returning to her cheeks. The gesture's so natural, so unguarded - nothing like the calculated moves I'm used to from women who know my net worth.

"Speaking of company..." I open my phone, my heart racing like I'm twenty years younger. "I'd love to continue this conversation sometime. Maybe over a properly made Bloody Mary?"

Her eyes widen slightly, those full lips parting in surprise.

"Wait - you said it was perfect!" Her mouth drops open, those eyes widening in mock outrage.

"Call it professional courtesy." My laugh comes easy, natural. "Though I'd love to show you how to make a proper one sometime. When you're not working, of course."

The blush deepens across her cheeks as she fidgets with her phone. "I can't believe I messed up."

"Trust me, I've had worse. Much worse." I slide my phone toward his hand. "Maybe we can start with the basics and work our way up?"

Her fingers brush mine as she takes the phone, sending an electric current through my skin. She types her number with careful precision, those curls falling forward to frame her face.

"Abbie with an -ie." She hands it back, our fingers touching again. "Just in case you meet any other terrible bartenders."

"Only interested in one." Her answering smile makes my heart skip.

The way she looks at me - no agenda, no calculation - stirs something I thought long buried. Just pure, genuine interest sparkling in those eyes.

"Thanks for being patient with my bartending skills." Her fingers twist that bar towel again, the shy gesture making me sweat in my suit.

"Trust me, the pleasure was all mine." I stand, straightening my jacket. "Though next time, maybe skip the Bloody Mary."

"Next time?" Those piercing eyes light up, a mix of hope and uncertainty that's absolutely adorable.

"I did get your number." I pat my phone pocket. "Name’s Corey, by the way."

She ducks her head, those wild curls falling forward. "Good to know.” She smiles, and it’s dazzling. I leave a generous tip on the bar. "Thanks for elevating my evening."

Her laugh follows me to the door, light and musical. The night air is cool on my face, but can't cool the warmth spreading through my chest. I don’t remember the last time a woman made me feel this... young. This alive. I shoot a glance back, delighted to see that she’s watching me with a small smile on her lips.

I slide behind the wheel, her number burning a hole in my pocket. The scent of her perfume lingers on my jacket - sweet cherry and something uniquely her.

Christ, I'm grinning like a teenager after his first date. But something about her... that combination of wit and innocence, the way she blushes when our eyes meet. No calculated moves, no practiced lines. Just genuine connection.

Maybe I've still got it after all.

9

ABBIE

The key clicks in the lock and I stumble into my dark apartment, my hands still shaking. Did I really just give my number to a silver-haired stranger who looks like he walked off a GQ cover?

The soft glow from Tessa's reading lamp illuminates our living room as I drop my keys in the bowl by the door. She's curled up on the couch, her pixie cut mussed like she's been running her hands through it while deep in her book.

"You're home late," she says, not looking up from her page. "How'd it go?"

My cheeks heat up and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from grinning. "It was good."

The book snaps shut. "Girl, what happened? Your face is doing that thing."

"What thing?"

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