“Zeke, he’s not, oh hell. Not my boyfriend. He’s a friend, well, he’s—he was rescuing me from a customer that was getting too handsy.” Drea was growing more muddled, smoothing down her shirt as she babbled.

“Really, Andy? Because all I saw was the two of you getting handsy with each other. In the middle of my bar. Part of the job of being a female bartender is to appear available. The male customers like the fantasy. And no one wants to see their server sucking face with some … some … businessman.” He practically spit the word out, as if he wasn’t a small-business owner himself. Indie cred, maybe.

Also, Blake had been fairly certain he looked cool in the white tee and black slacks. What had given him away? His perfectly polished wing tips winked up at him. Oops.

“I apologize, Zeke, but Mr. Donovan here”—her eyes darted to him—“Blake, I mean, was simply trying to stop Steve—”

“Steve? I love that guy! He’s a riot.” The bearded man clearly had poor taste in friends. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming this on him.”

“I … well, yes. Yes, I am blaming him, if you’d just lis—”

Zeke didn’t wait for her to finish. “Take off your apron, I think we’re done here.”

“Are you firing me?” Her lip trembled.

Blake would feel bad for her if he wasn’t too busy thinking about how good that lip had tasted.

No, that was not what he was thinking. It couldn’t be. He refused to think about that lip again.

“Technically, I hadn’t hired you.” Zeke held his meaty paw out. “I’m going to need your tips back along with the apron.”

Andrea’s hands were shaking as she untied the strings and threw the apron at Zeke’s face. She pulled a wad of cash out of her back pocket and threw it into the air. As bills rained down among them, the bar’s patrons dove and grabbed at the free money. Zeke glared, but Drea’s glare was harder.

“Fuck you, Zeke.” She stalked off. Then she turned back around for a parting shot—“Your giant beard makes it pretty obvious you’re compensating for a small dick, by the way.”

Blake snuck a look at the stage, where her sister was staring in disbelief, impressively without missing a note. Then he followed after Drea. His long stride had them even by the time she reached the back entrance.

She turned the knob and pushed it open, pausing in the frame. “Oh, and fuck you, too, Donovan! Way to stick up for me back there.”

He jumped ahead to avoid her slamming the door on him. He half feared she’d jump into one of the cars in the back lot and drive away, but she stopped, back to him, her head down.

Blake cleared his throat. Again. If he kept this up, she was going to think he had some sort of excessive drainage issue.

She didn’t turn around, but her shoulders tensed, signaling she was aware he was behind her.

“I should apologize, Drea.”

She spun toward him. “Go right ahead, then.” Her hands were on her hips again, voice echoing in the alley behind Irony & Wine.

Oh, the irony in this moment.

He folded his arms, wanting to appear as firmly grounded as she. “I said I should, not that I was planning to.”

Even in the dim light he could see her eyes flash.

He ignored the jolt that this sent to his groin and focused on his objective. “I want you to work for me. You were working for someone else. That person chose to unemploy you right in front of me. Things were working out in my favor. It would not have behooved me to stick up for you, as you call it. Some might say that I was sticking up for you when I rescued you from that lumberjack fellow.” He took a step closer.

She took a step back. “Sticking up for me? You forced yourself on me and got me fired.”

“My job offer still stands, Drea. As for forcing myself, I don’t believe that’s a point you can truly argue.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t retreat any farther.

“As for the job, please don’t try to tell me that these”—he gestured to the bar behind them—“are better working conditions than I’m offering. This is not an appropriate use of your skills, and you know it. It also can’t pay as well as I can. I’m prepared to add another thousand to that monthly figure I gave you before.”

After a long silence, she sighed. He knew what she’d say when her shoulders slumped.

“I accept your job offer, then. But you owe me for this. I lost a whole night’s tips to your antics. You can pay me back in cash up front.”

He pulled out his wallet and peeled off a few bills. “I’ll do that now, as a show of good faith, and I’ll buy you a drink, too, if you’d like to stay on for the remainder of your sister’s performance.” Why he’d made that last offer, he had no idea.

Drea’s eyes widened. “How did—?” She shook her head, changing her mind. “You know what? I don’t even want to know how you knew Lacy was my sister. Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Donovan. Blake. I think you are a fairly deplorable person right now. I’m accepting your job offer, but we are not going to be friends. No drink. Just cash. And the cash for the drink you would have bought. I’ll see you at nine Monday morning.”

Blake bit back the smug expression that he knew was playing on his lips. It was Wednesday—he really should give her until Monday to start, but he couldn’t stop himself from correcting her. “I’ll see you Friday at nine.” He simply wanted to get a start on their new venture. Or he wanted to have the last word, assert his authority. It wasn’t like he couldn’t bear going the weekend without seeing her.

“Fine,” she said tersely. “Friday, then.”

When she pocketed the bills and headed out of the alley, he decided it would be prudent to wait a moment before following. Just to make sure she got to the lit street safely, of course. Not because he wanted to hold on to that moment in the bar any longer.

Chapter Five

“You look like an employed person. Is that a business suit? Or did you just suddenly figure out how to match clothes?” Lacy set down her cereal spoon to grin at her big sister.

“I am an employed person. What’s that supposed to mean?” Andy poured herself a bowl as well. Brand-name cereal. With actual milk, no less. Employment was even better than she remembered.

“That you’ve looked homeless for some time now. This look is working for you. Do you want to look nice for your douchebag boss? And before you deny it, remember I saw him. He’s hot with a capital hot.”

“Lace! Don’t be disgusting.” Though the mention of her hot weasel boss brought an unexpected flutter to her tummy. First-day jitters. That was all it was. “I just want to make a good impression. All the chicks who work in that office are size zeros with cheekbones like razor blades.”

She stopped pouring her milk at half an inch less than normal at the thought. Then she thought again, and added the rest. So what if Donovan is a great kisser. I’m moving into Friendzone, specifically into the neighborhood of Workville. Not that she could imagine ever being friends with the man. He was just so, so …

Whatever he was, she couldn’t dwell long on it without feeling her cheeks flush.

Forget the boss, focus on the work.

Abandoning her breakfast after only a few bites, she positioned herself in front of Lacy, then buttoned and unbuttoned her blazer. “Which looks better?”

“Are you really going to ask me? I base my outfits on a bar’s diviness versus holes in my jeans. How would I know what the white-collar crowd does?” Lacy stuck out a tongue colored by marshmallow bits as proof.

It was effective.

Andy retreated to her bedroom to double-check the fit of her slacks in front of the full-length mirror. Were pantsuits too 1990s? Too butch? She took off the pants and threw them on the growing pile of rejected clothes on the floor. Her room was starting to resemble the aftermath of a Black Friday sale. She was seriously regretting not going to Marshalls with the last of Donovan’s money instead of buying groceries.