Page 45 of Single Girl in the City
“Not even Zeus himself could steamroll you.”
“Then I guess I have a sweet spot for angels. It must be the sexy halo.”
“Angels don’t wear sexy.”
“Mine does.”
She knew he found her attractive, but sexy? That wasn’t an adjective normally associated with Abi. This new information ignited a few unwelcomed belly flutters.
Stupid flutters.
“Do you grant every time-off request?” she asked.
“Not every request.” He went from flirty to defensive in point-zero-zero-one seconds, telling her everything she needed to know.
“You gave personal time off to Bryce and Jake for the same three-day weekend, leaving Nora behind the bar alone.” She held up the scribbled sticky note.
Not that Nora couldn’t handle herself. In Abi’s opinion, Nora was the front-runner for the new manager position. But she couldn’t be sure until she’d finished interviewing, which would take the entire week. The salary alone was enough for people to want to apply.
He shrugged. “They both had reasonable excuses. Plus, if we’re short then I can cover.”
“You’re the owner, your job is to make sure they have what they need to be successful, not do it for them. Plus, you need some Owen time. Which nights are your nights off?” Abi asked and Owen stared at her blankly. “None. Got it. Well, Monday nights are your official night off. You are persona non grata.”
He rested a hip against the desk. “Monday night is football. The bar is packed, the line’s around the corner, and gets rowdy.”
“I can handle rowdy.” And she could. One of the benefits of being on her own for so long, Abi could handle herself in almost any situation. She’d backpacked across most of Europe and Asia, sometimes with a tour group, but mostly on her own. And while she’d been alone, she’d never felt lonely—until she’d returned to Portland. But this time things would be different. “Plus, I think I already have a beat on a new manager.”
Instead of feeling comforted by the idea, he looked unsettled. “You’ve been here twenty minutes and already you’ve solved all my problems.”
“Problem,” she corrected. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world to solve the mystery that is Owen Easton. Hiring a new, capable, trustworthy manager? That I have a handle on.”
He glanced at the piles of paper. “You haven’t even looked at a single application.”
“Don’t need to. You’ve had the perfect person right under your nose.”
He grinned. “You?”
“I’m about as close to perfect as Oregon is to Alabama, but thank you for the compliment,” she said. “Plus, I don’t have enough tattoos to work the front of the house.”
“I have enough for the both of us.”
She took a beat. “Are you promoting me from independent contractor to manager?”
“You still leaving next month?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t even consider it. “That doesn’t work for me.”
Right.
“Me either.” This was a get-in, get-out kind of job and she would do well to remember that. Her time here was nothing more than an extended good deed. Didn’t mean that his comment didn’t feel like a rejection.
He lifted his gaze to her in question. “But Nora works perfectly,” she said, referring to the most senior bartender.
He stared at her, his expression one of pure consideration, then he shrugged. “I like Nora.”
“Good. She’s been here five years, knows the bar almost as well you, and is already interviewing at places across town.”
