Once the group is finally gone, we clean up as fast as we can. I’m half-tempted to leave shit and come in tomorrow morning to get things neat and tidy, but Logan is opening with me and usually comes in early to do bookkeeping shit. I don’t feel like dealing with him getting all pissy over the state of the bar. Plus, you never know when an inspector will come in, and we have a perfect reputation to uphold.
Getaway profits enough for Logan and me to both step back into more of a manager role and be less hands-on, but hiring two full-time employees is an expensive endeavor and I’ve gotten quite used to my comfy lifestyle.
Finally, everything is spotless and ready for another day of the same thing tomorrow. I’m the last to leave and double-check the alarm system and locks. It’s after three-thirty and Charlie is no doubt fast asleep.
I take a quick shower to get the smell of the bar off me and then get into bed still naked with damp hair. Charlie rolls over, eyes fluttering open. She smiles when she sees me and she wiggles closer, resting her head on my chest. As much as I want to have sex again, I’m beat, and holding Charlie is the most comforting thing in the world. She might be in my arms, but it feels like she’s the one holding me.* * *
“Owen?” Charlie’s lips press against mine.
“Are you waking me up for sex?” I blink my eyes open and pull her back into bed. She’s dressed, with her hair and makeup done.
“I wish. I’m running late, actually. But I wanted to say bye before I left.”
Wrapping her in my arms, I nuzzle my head into her neck. “Call in sick.”
“I can’t. I’m meeting another client today.”
“Another boring client?” I squeeze her ass and my cock jumps.
“This one doesn’t sound boring. It’s a young nurse. She got hired, went through orientation and then got fired once the employer found out she’s six months pregnant. They told her she was disabled. Can you believe that?”
“What an idiot. You can’t do that.”
“Exactly. I’m sure we’ll come to a settlement outside of court, but this is the kind of case that reminds me why I became a lawyer. To get justice and try to make the world better in a legal way. Remind assholes they can’t treat women that way.”
“You’re amazing, Charlie.”
“Thanks. I’m just doing my job.” She sits up and runs her hand through my hair. “Do you work again tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but during the day. I’ll be done by six at the latest.”
“Do you want to go out for dinner? I can make us a reservation at the one and only fancy place to eat downtown,” she says.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Good, because I want to talk, which I know is something people say when things are bad, but it’s not. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with everything.”
“If that page means my cock in your pussy, we are.”
“I’m serious,” she giggles. “I like this. I like us. But I’m still a little scared,” she admits. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I will never hurt you, Charlie. Trust me.”
She puts her lips to mine. “I do.”
Then she leaves, needing to go to work. I fall back asleep until my alarm goes off. Then it’s up, eat breakfast, get dressed and head into work myself. Maybe I will look into hiring someone else. Or at least trying to get on more of a daytime schedule. I’m the boss and can move my shifts around as I want. Well, as long as it’s doable with everyone else.
I’m the boss—okay, one of the bosses—but I’m not an asshole. We have a good thing going here, and I like knowing that our employees generally enjoy working here.
Getaway is busy today, busy enough that even I wait on a few tables and run food out to the lunch crowd. Charlie called me while she was on her break, but I missed it. I call her back and get her voicemail. She must be with her client, and I know she’s going to win this case with ease.
There’s a lull around four o’clock, and I go into the office to eat my lunch and get off my feet for a few minutes. Wes, Scarlet, and the kids are at a table when I come back out, and I start to head over there to say hi.
Weston meets my eye and then looks at a guy in a navy blue suit who is sitting at the bar. He looks back at me in question, and I shake my head, not sure what he’s trying to ask.
“What’s going on?” I ask, pulling a chair up to their table.
“That guy,” Weston starts. “Do you know him?”