Taboo Boss - Older Man Younger Woman Romance

I opened it up, and my heart sank to my stomach. Amanda had put in for a change of position to another area of the company. A million thoughts ran through my mind, not the least of which was how hurt I was. Her asking to change positions in the company meant that she no longer felt comfortable around me, which was hard enough, but it also meant that whatever we had was in her past. She was moving on, to the point of making it a point that she wouldn’t have to see me anymore.

Perhaps, though, it would be better that way. I would no longer be her direct boss. She wouldn’t have to worry about our relationship, as it were, because there was no longer any power position for me to hold over her. She would be free to date me if she wanted to, since there were no rules about people dating that worked in different departments.

But then I remembered how she pushed me away. Even that email was a way of pushing me away. She didn’t want to confront me face-to-face, and the language was short and direct. She wanted to transfer to another area of the company, but not because she wanted to date me. She didn’t want to see me at all anymore.

I closed my laptop and sat there in silence for a few moments. What had started off as a weird day was only getting worse. Now, I was going to have to get used to the fact that there was no future with Amanda, not even the glimmer of hope I had been holding out. She was done, and she was moving on. All I had left was my work and the bar.

Speaking of the bar, I hadn’t heard from any of my brothers yet that morning, either. Figuring a drink might help out, assuming Mason had already stocked the bar like he said he was going to, I decided to head that way. Besides, a little physical labor might keep me from yelling at any other inanimate objects for the day. At least I could work out my aggression by hammering something.

When I arrived at the bar, it became readily apparent why my brothers hadn’t messaged me. They were on the warpath, and the bar was looking fantastic. The outside had already gotten a fresh coat of paint and a temporary sign hung above the door. Upon getting in, I noticed the new paint wasn’t limited to the outside, either. The whole bar smelled like wood polish and new coats of finisher. Chairs were already set out in the areas that we’d discussed putting tables, though the tables themselves weren’t in yet apparently. Booths were up along the walls, and the biggest surprise, a small stage in one corner with some basic lighting above it and giant speakers. I walked up to the bar where Ava was, and she looked up to see me, breaking out into a smile.

“Oh, hey, Tom! Didn’t expect you until later today,” she said.

“Hey, Ava. Where’s Robert? I asked.

“He’s with Susan today. Your mom is on cloud nine right now.”

“I bet. So where is everybody?”

“Most of them left to take a lunch break, but Mason is in the back organizing the office, and Matt should be back any minute now with some tables,” she said.

“We have tables?”

“Yeah, he found some at a thrift store. They look vintage but aren’t beat up or anything, and he got all excited because they had tons of them in the warehouse there,” she said. “So, what do you think?”

“It looks great so far. I was kind of hoping we would open sooner rather than later, but I wasn’t quite expecting this kind of success,” I said.

“Well, we had a little help with the painters outside, and the crew that helped us move in the furniture and appliances. The kitchen is just about ready to serve, and the guy who pressurizes the lines for the kegs said we are ready to go for the bar,” she said.

“And what about that?” I asked, pointing to the stage with the lights.

“Well, you know, karaoke is very popular,” she said, grinning and suddenly wiping something invisible off the bar. I saw through it and rolled my eyes.

“Oh, God,” I said.

“It’s not like that. Karaoke is a big thing for younger crowds now. They all grew up with shows where people do it in carpools and stuff, so it’s not like it was before. No sad country songs sung by middle-aged divorcees.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, shaking my head. “Just let me know what nights you decide to do it so I won’t have to be here.”

“Will do,” she said, opening a box of glasses and moving them toward the sink. “Mason said he thinks we could probably open next Friday or Saturday if we keep this pace up.”