Page 44 of Her Possessive Daddies

"Your usual, sir?"

"No." The word comes out too fast. "Just checking in on our newest hire."

I slide into the darkest corner booth, angling myself toward the bar. The leather seat creaks beneath me as I slide around the table. My fingers roam the polished wood table, betraying my nerves.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Baker?"

"Whiskey. Neat."

The waitress disappears. My eyes drift back to the empty spot at the bar where she should be standing.

The whiskey arrives. I don't touch it.

Damn it. I'm better than this - prowling around like some lovesick teenager. Corey called dibs. We've been friends twenty years, partners in everything. One girl shouldn't change that.

But her smile. The way she bit her lip when she was nervous. How soft her skin felt under my-

"Fuck." The whiskey burns going down. I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be thinking about her. About that night.

Corey’s name lights up my phone again. I let it ring. Can't trust myself to sound normal right now.

The door swings open and there she is. I hold my breath. Abbie glides effortlessly back behind the bar, her curls bouncing with each step. She hasn't noticed me yet in this shadowy corner. Good.

I watch her set up, methodically checking bottles and wiping surfaces. Her hands move with more confidence now. The way she arranges everything just so, precise and focused.

Twenty minutes. That's how long I make myself wait before standing. Each step toward the bar feels weighted. Wrong. But I can't stay away.

"Evening, Abbie."

She startles, nearly dropping the glass she's polishing. A blush creeps up her neck as she turns.

"Seth! I didn't... um... is Corey with you?"

"Just me tonight. He's probably still buried in contracts and spreadsheets." I settle onto a barstool, loosening my tie. "Man's a workaholic sometimes."

"Oh." She tucks a strand behind her ear. That nervous habit of hers. "Can I get you something?"

"Bourbon, neat."

Her fingers brush mine as she sets down the glass. That light touch sends searing electricity through my skin. I shouldn't react this way. She's Corey's girl. Off limits.

"How've you been?" The words come out rougher than intended.

"Good. Busy with classes and..." She trails off, fidgeting with her apron. The awkwardness hangs thick between us.

This was a mistake. I should leave before I do something stupid. But I can't make myself move from this barstool, can't tear my eyes away from her.

"Listen, about the other night..." I lower my voice.. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. The first time can be..." The bourbon burns my throat. "Intense."

Her cheeks flush that delicious shade of pink. She busies herself arranging bottles that don't need arranging.

"I'm fine." Her voice barely carries over the music. "It was..." She bites her lower lip, and damn if that doesn't send heat straight through me. "Different."

"Different good?"

The glass slips in her hands. She catches it, but not before she shoots me a look of panic that quickly turns charged. The spark's still there, crackling between us.

"Maybe." Her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I mean, I've never..."

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