He pocketed the tip with a wide smile. “Of course, sir.”

I nodded and slipped out of the back of the town car, buttoning my black jacket as I stood. My gaze slid over the facade of the building. The ivy was growing nicely along the exterior wall. The spotlight over the door perfectly illuminated the restaurant’s name, just as I’d intended. Even at ten o’clock, there were clumps of people milling out on the sidewalk.

I pushed through the crowd and stepped into the restaurant, bracing myself for the worst. I’d put my most seasoned employee in charge, but even Zoe was bound to have problems without my help for a week. A quick scan of the foyer indicated that the place was still as I’d left it, though one of the picture frames was slightly ajar, but I couldn’t really blame Zoe for that. Could I? No. Even I had my limits.

“Mr. Harper! You’re back!”

I snapped my attention to the hostess, who was staring at me with giant doe eyes from behind the podium. She filled out the Provisions uniform well and was maintaining the kind of look that the clientele of my restaurants expected. “We weren’t expecting to see you tonight.”

I shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Every night should run as if I’m present.”

She giggled, though I definitely hadn’t told a joke. “Of course. Speaking of presents, let me unwrap this one for you.”

She rushed forward around the podium, reaching for my jacket. The movement caused the bottom of her dress to flare up, but I wasn’t fazed. When I was in work mode, my employees were numbers to me. Nameless, faceless parts of my machine. I needed them to arrive on time, smile at customers, and clean up their assigned tables before clocking out every night. That’s it.

Her finger brushed the edge of my collar and I held up my hand to stop her.

“It’s fine. Where’s Zoe?”

Her bottom lip jutted out and her arm fell limp back to her side. “Back in the offices. I think she’s been trying to catch up on paperwork ever since she hired that new girl.”

My back stiffened. “New girl?”

There was a policy in place in every single one of my restaurants: I had the final say for all new hires. I had good instincts and I liked to look every employee in the eye at least once before they represented my company. Zoe knew that rule, and for the first time, she’d chosen to ignore it.

The hostess’ frown deepened. “Yeah, she came in earlier looking totally homeless. I can’t believe Zoe actually hired her. I thought she was going to kick her to the curb—”

“Thank you,” I interrupted. “But it’s none of your concern who we choose to hire.”

I hated when employees acted chummy with me. I wasn’t some friend from book club. I was her boss and so was Zoe.

I wanted to tell her off for trying to throw Zoe under the bus, but excited shouts rang out from one of the restaurant’s bars, drawing my attention. I stepped forward and narrowed my eyes, curious about the commotion.

The four bars lining the interior courtyard of Provisions had been packed ever since opening night, but I’d yet to see a circus-like crowd form around any of them.

Why is one forming now?

I caught short snippets of conversations as I made my way closer to the bar.

“Am I toasted or was she really hot?”

“Dude. I bought four drinks. FOUR. Why?”

“You looked into her eyes. You shouldn’t have done it, man.”

“She’s a wizard!”

I smirked. It wasn’t the first time one of my employees had spurred devotion from customers. That’s why I hire beautiful people. During the interview process, my team and I vetted the applicants based on their looks and their experience—in that order. No customer gives a shit if his prime rib comes out a little late when the woman serving him looks good enough to eat.

I pushed through the crowd to see which bartender was outperforming the rest, and when I saw her, her presence gripped me by the throat and pulled me closer. My eyes slid down her body of their own accord and for the first time I could remember, I wasn’t in control.

She had wild blonde hair streaked with honey highlights. A smattering of freckles ran across her nose and cheeks, just visible in the dim light behind the bar. Her bee-stung lips curved into a smile as a patron leaned over and left his number scratched across a cocktail napkin. She didn’t touch it. She was too busy straining a drink into a cocktail glass. The two male bartenders moved around her, cashing out customers and keeping track of the orders. Apparently, the customers wanted their drinks made by her and only her.

I watched her spin around and reach for a top-shelf liquor. The sharp cut of the Provisions uniform exposed most of her tan back. The skirt hugged her hips and flared just below her ass. On her, it looked like glorified lingerie.

I should have backed away and found Zoe. I knew what was pulling customers toward the bar and I could move onto the next item on my agenda. Lord knows I had a list a mile long, and yet, I found myself stepping closer to the bar. I slid onto a free stool directly in front of where she was making drinks and waited for her undivided attention.

Because she was a complete knockout?

No.

Because she was utterly fucking up my bar.

Chapter Four

Lily

In the last two hours the bar had turned into a circus. I’d lost track of how many drinks I’d made. My feet hurt, my hands ached, and I’d gone through enough lemons and limes to rival a key lime pie factory. The only silver lining was the tip jar steadily filling up smack dab in front of me. Whenever exhaustion started to creep in, I’d let my gaze linger there for a second. I’d have to split it all with Brian and Allen, but still, my cut would be massive.

I handed two drinks off, shook the excess club soda from my hand, and then watched as a suited man slipped into a newly vacant bar stool. He wasn’t the first available guy to come to the bar, but he was the first one who made me do a double take. I had a very specific type, and pretty boys were out—I didn’t want a guy with better hair than me. (Jared Leto, I’m lookin’ at you.)

Suit Guy’s features weren’t pretty, they were striking. Rough around the edges with a permanent scowl and punch-you-in-the-gut brown eyes. His dirty blond hair was unruly and probable evidence of a bad habit of running his hands through it when he was stressed.

I opened my mouth to ask him his drink order, but another customer spoke up first.

“What was that drink you made me earlier?” the young girl beside him asked, swaying her empty cocktail glass back and forth in front of her like a fast-paced metronome. I’d made her a drink hours ago; I had a good memory, but not that good.

“Describe it,” I said, leaning forward so I could hear her over the sound of the crowd. The effort brought me closer to Suit Man and it annoyed me that I noticed his cologne. Or maybe I’m annoyed that I liked it.

“You recommended it,” the girl slurred. “It was like a pineapple made love to a boozy banana.”

I ran through the drinks I’d made earlier in the night that had pineapple in them. There’d only been a few, and the cocktail glass she was waving around helped me narrow it down.

“It’s called a Juliet,” I told the customer, already reaching for a new cocktail glass. “It has gold tequila, banana-flavored liqueur, pineapple juice, and grenadine.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes! More please!”

I smiled and turned to the bar shelves to reach for the gold tequila. Suit Man spoke up behind me and my back stiffened.

“I don’t see that drink on the menu…”