Page 26 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
I watch him drive away, touching my lips, still feeling his kiss. Two days. I can handle two days.
I have to. Because somewhere between that first Manhattan and this moment, I've fallen completely.
Now I just have to trust he'll return to catch me.
CHAPTER 7
Two days turn into five.
Five days of texts that keep me sane, voice calls that leave me aching, and a business emergency that seems to grow more complicated by the hour. By Thursday night, I'm running on fumes, anxiety, and the kind of stubbornness that has seen me through worse but is serving me poorly now. I’m starting to let doubts seep in. Walls are going to form over my heart if he’s not back in town soon.
"Karen, you forgot to order the vodka. Again." Susie's voice holds more concern than accusation. "That's the third supplier you've missed this week."
"I'll call them tomorrow." I shove a hand through my hair, staring at the pile of bills that seems to multiply when I'm not looking. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. You're not fine." She plants herself in front of my desk. "When's the last time you ate actual food?"
"I had..." I try to remember. Coffee for breakfast. Maybe a granola bar for lunch? "I'm fine, Susie."
"You're running yourself into the ground because loverboy's in Chicago and you don't know how to handle it."
"That's not?—"
"Thursday night receipts are off by two hundred dollars. You scheduled two bartenders for tomorrow when we need four. And you've been wearing the same shirt for two days."
I look down at my wrinkled blouse. Huh. She's right. What the fuck is going on? Over a man I’ve known two weeks? I’ve lost it. I’ve completely lost touch with reality.
"Go home," Susie orders. "Sleep. Eat. Take a shower. I'll close up."
"I can't ask you to?—"
"You're not asking. I'm telling." She pulls me up from my chair. "This place won't fall apart without you for one night."
But that's the problem, isn't it? Ineedto be needed. Need the distraction of work to keep from obsessing over Jason's extended absence. His texts are regular, affectionate, but I can feel the distance growing with each passing day. He’s called every night and we’ve talked about all the things. Things like rules and consequences. Discipline and safe words. Hard limits and soft limits. I’d been referring to him as Daddy and he loves it. We’ve easily spent twenty hours talking and texting and getting to know each other. But, there’s still a pit in my stomach. What if. What if he never comes back? In my heart, I completely trust him. My phone vibrates as if he knows what I’m thinking about.
Jason: Sorry I haven’t called. Meeting ran late. Missing you. How was your day?
I stare at the message as I sit in my car. How was my day? I'd forgotten to eat, snapped at Josh over breakfast, nearly served expired beer, and can't remember if I paid the electric bill.
Me: Fine. Busy. Normal.
Three lies in three words. But what am I supposed to say? That I'm falling apart because a man I've known two weeks is in Chicago? That I've grown dependent on his steadiness in record time? My phone rings before I can spiral further.
"Those were the three least convincing words I've ever read." Jason's voice wraps around me like warm bourbon. "I won’t ever tolerate lying, baby. Consider this your one and only warning. You won’t like the consequences. Try again. With honesty this time."
"I'm tired."
"And?"
"Overwhelmed. I keep forgetting things. Dropping balls I usually juggle fine." I close my eyes, confessing to the darkness. "I miss you. Which is ridiculous because we barely know each other, but I miss you so much it's affecting everything."
"Oh, baby." The endearment makes tears prick my eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's pathetic. Because I'm a grown woman who shouldn't fall apart when?—"
He interrupts me. "Stop." The firm one word command shoots my heart straight down to my stomach. Butterflies swarm around. Damn. His domineering tone does something to me. "Missing someone isn't pathetic. Needing support isn't a weakness. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"I know, but?—"
