Page 12 of Sinful Boss

I swallow down the last of the chicken and lean against the back bar, my arms folded across my chest. “Apparently, our alcohol numbers are off.”

He shakes his head and then waggles a finger at me. “No, ma’am. They are not. I triple-checked them.”

“Well, the booze consumed does not match the booze sold. Basically, we’re pouring more than we’re ringin’ up.”

He sets his rag and bottle down and folds his arms, mimicking me. “Well, it ain’t me. You know I don’t drink on the job. In fact, have you ever even seen me drink?”

I go over to him and place my hand on his smooth, tattooed forearm. “I’m not blaming you, Carter.”

“Probably the night shift,” we say in unison.

We both laugh. “Great minds think alike,” I say.

He nods. “That night bartender, Liz… I swear the woman’s on something. Or she’s drunk.”

“Do you smell booze on her?” I ask.

He chuckles and goes back to his task. “Girl, it reeks of liquor back here, and I’m not getting close enough to that skank to smell her breath. But if you wanna stay a little late tonight when she relieves me, be my guest, honey.”

“I might just do that. Oh, and just so you know, Roman’s getting a new POS system together so it’ll be easier to ring in orders and do inventory.”

“Good, because that current POS system is a total POS!”

I laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“What’s a POS?” Maria asks, approaching us.

“Piece of sh—”

“Point of sale,” I interrupt Carter. “We’re getting a new one for the bar.”

“Awesome,” Maria comments. She looks at Carter. “I need a bloody mary, please.”

“On it,” he replies, grabbing a clean glass and then the vodka bottle.

As he works, I continue. “Lincoln also said we’re getting cameras in here.”

He pauses his pouring and turns the bottle upright. “Seriously? Those stuffy suits don’t trust us, or what?”

“Did ya miss our conversation about the missin’ liquor? I mean, they got a business to protect.”

He shakes his head. “Once the culprit’s onto the cameras, they’ll find other ways to sneak in shots. If that’s even what’s happening.”

“I know,” I agree. “But it’ll cover our asses, ya know? You and I don’t do anything wrong, so let them catch whoever is. Plus, it’ll cover me when customers are bein’ dicks.”

He finishes the drink by placing an olive and a small celery stalk into the drink. “You got that right. Fuck them Karens.”

We laugh as he hands the drink to Maria, who flounces off to deliver it.

“Also… Roman? Lincoln? You on a first-name basis with the bosses now, or what?” he asks, grabbing a rack of hot, clean glasses and begins wiping the water from them.

“I would never call them that to their face, darlin’.”

“Only behind their backs?” he asks with a smile.

I lift a shoulder and let it fall, grabbing a rag and helping him with his chore. “Yeah, but they don’t need to know that, right?”

“Right.”

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