Boss of Me

“Sorry, babe. Sandra’s my ride.” He kisses my cheek and does a wave. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

I rest an elbow on the bar, threading my fingers in the side of my hair and giving it a pull. I don’t have to finish this drink…

Jerry turns back and winks at me, singing, “I like to move it, move it!”

My nose wrinkles, and I look down at my watery, fifteen-dollar gin and tonic. “It wasn’t really funny. Patton was furious.”

“What else is new?” Jerry puts his arm on the bar and leans closer. “How are you fitting in? Getting adjusted?”

“Sure.” I slide back, putting more space between us. “Why is he always so angry?”

Jerry lifts his chin. “Who?” I arch an eyebrow, and he shakes his head. “Patton? Who knows. His father rides him hard. He wants to make a name for himself on his own merit. He feels responsible for everything that happens. Pick a reason.”

I think about all of these reasons. “I suppose it’s a lot of pressure…”

“You’ve been in Nashville, what? A week? How about I take you around and show you the sights.”

Blinking up at him, I wonder if he even read my résumé. “I graduated from Owen School of Business… at Vanderbilt?”

He grins. “Oh, right. Still, I could take you out, show you the town. It’s a long weekend. What do you say?”

“I’m sorry. I promised I’d visit my sister in Savannah. I can’t.” It’s a total lie.

I should just tell him I have zero interest in doing anything with him, but I’m trying to hang onto a few friendly faces in the office. If I can stand it.

“Right. Your sister. How is she?”

“Great! Thanks for asking. Well, I’d better get going, too. Work comes early!”

“Stay and finish your drink.” He nods toward me. “I’ve got to hit the men’s room. Be right back.”

I watch as he circles the bar moving away from me, and to be honest, I don’t mind that he’s gone, even if I’m left alone here. Shifting from one foot to the other, I pass my card to the bartender, ready to call it a night. I tap on the Lyft app and order a car, and while I wait, I scan the crowd of young professionals. They’re all about my age or just a few years older.

My eyes drift toward the door, where people are coming and going. I’m just about to turn around again when I freeze, sucking in a quiet gasp.

Patton stands in the space between the two bars looking like he just stepped off the cover of Esquire. I’m caught in his simmering, brown gaze, and I can’t look away.

His blazer is gone, and he’s standing there in that thin white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show the ink on his forearm. One hand is in his tailored navy slacks, and the way he looks at me makes my skin hot all over my body.

I want him to come to me. Come to me, I whisper silently in my head. As if he can hear me, his lips curl into a cocky grin, and he moves in my direction. I’ve never seen him smile, and the way he’s doing it now makes my thighs press together.

Patton Fletcher is sex on two legs.

He stops right in front of me and gives me a nod. “Are you here alone?”

“No…” I clear the breathlessness from my throat. “Sandra and Dean just left, and Jerry’s in the bathroom.”

“I see.” He lifts his chin, looking around the bar. I take the opportunity to admire the lines in his neck, the scruff of his shadowy beard, the bumps of his Adam’s apple. Dean’s right—lickable.

Fresh soap and citrus surround me, and with him this close, I feel the heat of his body on my skin. I want to lean in and inhale…

The bar is so crowded, he keeps being shoved close then back again like a wave.

I manage to find my voice. “Are you here alone?”

“No.” He looks down, letting his eyes move around my face.

It’s very distracting. “Who are you here with?”