Page 35 of Sinful Boss

“Stan?” I ask.

Quinn smirks at me over the rim of her water glass. “Go on.”

“Well, like I said, you’d be our regional retail manager. You wouldn’t need to worry about selling new beers or introducing new things to the menu, the CEOs will continue to do that. However, if you had any suggestions, we would take them under advisement. You’ll complete the reports and discuss any human resource issues with the individual store managers. There are other things as well, I have them on my drive back in the office, but they’re minor. It’ll definitely require you to travel around the state, mostly Denver metro area and Colorado Springs locations, but also the occasional travel for conventions and other training opportunities that might crop up. The biggest request we’re going to have to ask is that you learn all the names of our beers and also master the brewing process. I’ll be testing you on it. That’s non-negotiable.”

She’s now frozen, not eating or drinking, and just staring at me with her jaw slack and hazel eyes wide. “Well, sir, uh, Linc, that sounds like an amazin’ opportunity. May I ask what the pay is?”

“That was my next topic,” I say, smiling. I look around the restaurant. It’s still fairly busy, so I don’t feel comfortable saying it out loud. Instead, I pull out my phone and type the yearly salary into my notes app, then hand her my phone.

She stares at me, then slowly looks at my phone in her hand. Her eyes go wide and I’m glad she’s not eating this time. “S… Lincoln, this is double what I make now. Is this right?”

“Yes, because it’s more than double the work you’re doing now. This is a salaried position, so there’s no overtime, but you’ll be required to meet deadlines regardless of how many hours a day it takes you to complete. So if you’re efficient and have good time-management skills—which I think you do—then you’ll do just fine and not have to work much more than forty hours a week.”

“Wow. That sounds like a lot of responsibility. And I do love my job at Silver Park. Who would take that over?” she asks.

“We’ll find someone. There are employees at other locations who wish to move around, so we’ll probably do some shuffling. See if any of the other pub managers want the job before we start interviewing lower-level employees, or hire someone from outside of Silver. It just all depends on how the chips fall.”

“That sounds fair. Can I think about it for like a day? My memaw always told me I should sleep on these kinds a decisions.”

“Absolutely,” I reply. “But I’ll need an answer in a couple of days, because the Dallas convention is next week.”

“Oh… wow. That’s soon. I will definitely have an answer by tomorrow for you.” She smiles and picks up her fork. Then, she puts it back down and states, “You know what? I’m full. Plus, my stomach’s so fulla butterflies I feel like they’re havin’ a party in there!”

Confused I ask, “Why do you have butterflies?”

“Just your job offer came outta nowhere, plus I almost choked, and we had that impromptu MRI. I’ve had quite the excitin’ day.”

“That’s true,” I say, chuckling. “I guess you have. After we eat, I’ll take you home so you can rest and get a good night’s sleep, so hopefully you have good news for me tomorrow.”

It was bold of me to say, but there’s something about Quinn that makes it so easy to talk to her. Maybe it’s her calm drawl or her funny euphemisms, but she never seems to get offended by my bluntness and straight talk. Something I’ve been working on my whole life. If something doesn’t make sense logically, it is always hard for me to understand. Especially strange metaphors and euphemisms that took me a while to catch on to. Not just from Quinn, but from just being around people in general. My dad’s the same way, always commenting he cloned himself when they had me. My brother’s not the opposite, but he’s very easy-going and more laid-back than me by eons.

I pay the bill and we leave. I give Lucas her address, and as he’s about to respond, Quinn says, “My truck’s at the brewery. Can you take us there instead?”

“Oh, that’s right. You sure you don’t want to just go home? I could send Lucas to take you to work in the morning.”

She shakes her head and swoops all her long brown hair to the side. “No, really. It’s fine. I don’t need no fancy treatment. It’s okay, I promise.”

“Very well. You heard the lady, Lucas.”

The drive back to Silver Park isn’t very long, and thankfully traffic is light. Lucas opens the door and helps her out as she cradles her injured arm to her stomach. I also get out and walk her to the truck, which is silly because it’s literally only about fifteen feet away.

“Oh, you didn’t need to walk me to my truck, y’all were close enough to make sure I got here okay.”

“I wanted to,” I say as she opens the driver’s door. I glance at Lucas, who’s waiting with the door open, but his back is to us. “I hope that’s all right.”

She looks a little uncomfortable, maybe nervous, when she replies, “Yes, that’s fine.” She clears her throat. “Well, thanks for everythin’ today. I’m gonna make like a baby and head out now.”

It takes me a minute until I realize what that means, and I must have made a face because she starts laughing.

She hops into the truck and puts her hand on the steering wheel, laughing like she might choke again. “Sorry, I need to cut back on the ol’ sayin’s. Goodnight, Lincoln. I’ll call you tomorrow with my answer and hopefully good news from the doc.”

I shut her door and watch as she starts the truck and drives out of the parking lot with classic rock blasting so loud, I can hear it through the closed windows.

Why am I so fucking awkward? I need to work on that. Note to self: Google how to talk to women.

Thirteen

Quinn

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