Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“The message was Kyla calling in sick again, leaving Marta alone for the early Sunday morning crowd.” I rubbed my eyes. “Hopefully, George can get there by eleven for the after-church rush. He went into Portland for a concert and stayed over with some friends.”
“None of your other crew is available?” Worth was also quick to exit the bed, leaving a startled Buttercup glaring at us over the rude awakening.
“Nope.” Groaning, I glanced at my phone, trying to decide whether I had time to shower. “I’ll skip church. Go help Marta.”
“You will not,” he said, voice sharp enough to make Buttercup bark once.
“Worth, this isn’t the time for your tough love on the kids lecture.” I swiveled to confront him, only to end up doing a double-take. Worth was in front of my dresser, shrugging into a familiar shirt. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“Putting on a Blessed Bean shirt so I can help Marta and you can go to church.” His tone was long-suffering as he tucked the shirt into his jeans and buckled his belt, the same one he’d had on a week ago when he’d arrived. The jeans, though, were my old ones. He’d been here long enough for us to do laundry together, long enough for me to get used to him in my bed, but what I wasn’t used to was having someone to back me up at work.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I work there, right?” Worth bent to retrieve a shoe, one of the leather loafers he’d arrived with. We seriously needed to get the guy some sneakers soon. “And I’m the newest employee. That’s the person who always ends up covering. You’re the boss. You get your Sunday off.”
Boss. Employee. A siren inside my head shrieked. I hadn’t devoted a second of the previous night to the reality that I was, in fact, Worth’s boss. “I’m not sure I like that hierarchy.”
“It works.” He shrugged like I was being silly. “People like structure. Order. Routine. The booklet the intake counselor at the depression program gave me stresses the importance of having a regular routine. If you establish yourself as more of the boss, you’re actually helping your workers.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” Still in my pajama pants, I felt frozen to the patch of floor on my side of the bed. “But I meant more between us. I don’t want to be your boss.”
“Isn’t that what you said you wanted last night?” Finished dressing, Worth frowned. “You want to be the best Dom I could imagine.”
“That’s in the bedroom.” I gestured at the room around us. “You calling yourself my employee…that’s what I don’t like. I don’t want you thinking you have to listen to me one place because of the other and vice versa.” My voice sped up, words coming faster and faster. “Like if you’re not a good employee, maybe I won’t give you want you need in the bedroom. And if you’re not good there, maybe—”
“Sam. Breathe.” Worth crossed the room to put both hands on my shoulders. “You’re overthinking this, which is usually my specialty. In my lengthy list of real and imagined sins, sleeping with you is pretty tame. I know perfectly well you’re not requiring my service in the bedroom. And as for being my boss at the coffee house, that’s a temporary thing.”
“It is?” I didn’t have to fake surprise, but I should have known he’d view things that way. We had no formal agreement, no employment contract, no start or stop date, and no clear list of responsibilities. Maybe he didn’t see himself as a permanent addition, but I’d sure been hoping.
“I’m going to help you turn Blessed Bean around, but we both know I can’t stay forever.”
“Says who?” The same hope I’d harbored ever since he’d agreed to help at Blessed Bean also applied here. He slept in my bed, ate my food, wore my clothes, and I saw no reason that state of affairs couldn’t continue indefinitely. Logically, I understood that Worth would want a return to his own life, but my heart didn’t want to hear it.
“Sam.” Dropping his hands, Worth made a pained noise. “I tried to tell you last night this was a bad idea. I don’t want to hurt you. And me leaving eventually, that’s a good thing because it means we can fool around without the employer-employee stuff in the way. You can’t hold the job over my head, not that you would.”
“I wouldn’t.” I bobbed my head, the very idea of any abuse of authority enough to turn my stomach.
“Look.” Worth’s expression was weary, like he had decades on me, not a mere five years. “Maybe anything other than us helping each other out as friends isn’t fair to you. I know perfectly well you don’t want a casual or short-term fling.”