Page 11 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
The waiter appears with menus, and I'm grateful for the interruption. This is too intense, too much too fast. But God, it's also intoxicating.
We order and fall into easier conversation. He tells me about wine regions, about difficult clients, about the satisfaction of finding the perfect pairing. I tell him about bar fights, about regular customers who've become family, about the time Susie accidentally served vodka instead of water to the Methodist minister.
"His sermon was very animated that Sunday," I finish, and Jason's laugh is rich and genuine.
"I bet it was." He refills my wine glass. "How long has Susie worked for you?"
"Since I bought the place. She’s Mark's cousin, actually. Helped me figure out the business side when I was drowning in grief and paperwork."
"Family business, then."
"In all the ways that matter." I pick at my salmon. "That's why Josh's reaction tonight... He's protective of what we've built. What his dad left us."
"The bar was Mark's?"
"His dream. He'd just gotten the loan approved when he got sick." I manage a smile. "I almost sold it after. But Emily said Dad would haunt us if we let someone else run his bar."
"Smart girl."
"She is. She's at college now, studying pre-med at Northwestern."
"Beautiful and brilliant, like her mother."
I blush. Again. This man and his compliments. "You're very free with your compliments."
"You mean, with the truth? Always." He leans back, studying me. "You really don't see it, do you? How remarkable you are?"
"I'm just a widow who runs a bar."
"You're a survivor who turned grief into purpose. You raised two kids alone while building a business. You're the heartbeat of this town, I've been here a week and I can see that. Everyone in this tiny town talks about you. You are more than a bartender. You are a therapist, a friend. You're remarkable, Karen. And you deserve to be told that every damn day."
Tears prick my eyes. "Jason..."
"Too much? I can come on strong because I don’t hold back."
"No. Yes. I don't know." I dab at my eyes with my napkin. "I'm not used to this."
"To what?"
"Being seen. Really seen." I meet his eyes. "It's terrifying."
"I know." His voice is gentle. "But I'm not going to stop seeing you. Fair warning."
We finish dinner in comfortable conversation, but the undercurrent is there, this pull between us that seems to grow stronger with every passing minute. When the check comes, I reach for my purse out of habit.
"Don't even think about it," he says mildly.
"I can pay for my own meal."
"Of course you can." He hands the waiter his card without looking at the total. "But you won't. Not with me."
"That's very—" Daddy like. I won’t saythosewords though.
"Traditional? Old-fashioned? Controlling?" He grins. "I've been called worse. I take care of what's mine, Karen. And while you're with me, you're mine to care for."
While you're with me, you're mine to care for.God. If this man isn’t a Daddy… he should be. He reads like a book boyfriend hero come to life.
The possessiveness should rankle. Instead, it makes heat pool low in my belly.
