"Darlin', I think all that sounds grand! We could definitely use ye ‘round here," Pappy says with a grin.
"Pappy, stop leading her on, we aren't hiring right now," says a stern voice from behind me.
I turn in my seat to see who had spoken and freeze. My jaw falls open and my nipples tighten as I become suddenly, and fiercely, aroused. To my horror, he notices my reaction and a knowing smirk draws his lips into a thin line, but I am helpless to do anything about it. I have never, ever, seen a man this handsome and I am utterly awestruck.
He stands leaning forward on the bar, his hands spread before him, a rag in one, a bottle of water in the other. He's the bartender from the other night, the one I only saw from the back. Oh my god, how much better his front is!
He's about 6'2", maybe 6'3", with a mop of luxurious black waves hanging down shaggily above the most breathtaking green eyes imaginable. They are multifaceted and sparkle like an expertly cut diamond, and as green as the loveliest emerald; they are hypnotizing.
"We could use a little extra help, Ian. Ye work too much, and I want to spend more time perfectin' my golf swing," says Pappy, with a wink at me.
Pappy's voice startles me out of my trance, and I quickly shut my mouth and duck my head to hide the intense blush creeping up my neck. When Adonis, I mean Ian, doesn't respond right away, I sneak another look at him beneath my lashes. He is contemplating me, his brow furrowed and his lips now pursed. My mind is instantly filled with vivid images of those lips latched around my nipple, tugging and biting, while my hands pull unapologetically at his hair.
Holy crap, get a hold of yourself woman!
Refocusing on the present, I continue my examination. Sexy five o'clock stubble - check. Strong, square jaw accented by high, angled cheekbones - yep. Wearing a black t-shirt and black leather cuffs on his wrists, what I can see of his physique is pulled directly from my fantasies - broad, thick shoulders and big, muscled arms. Always a sucker for forearms (yes, I know, strange … ), his are perfect; corded muscle covered by tan skin, lightly dusted with black hair, with the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the underside of his left arm. There is no helping it; I'm wet.
"I work as much as any self-respecting pub owner, and your golf swing is crap, so you might as well just give it up." Ian's voice is hard, brooking no argument. Luckily, Pappy ignores him.
"Hear her out, Ian. The poor lass needs a job," Pappy says.
At that Ian turns his gaze back to me and my core throbs as our eyes lock. I take a deep breath, causing my more than ample bosom to rise and fall in a dramatic fashion, pulling his eyes down to watch. The thought of him imagining what my breasts looked like naked has me squeezing my thighs together and a steady pulse beating between my legs. Still standing behind the bar, I have yet to see his lower half, but I have no doubt it will be as incredible as what is visible. And I'm sure his cock won't disappoint either.
Somehow mustering the strength to pull my mind out of the gutter, I focus my eyes on Ian's nose - anywhere but his eyes - and begin my plea.
"I moved here from D.C. a month ago. I wasn't happy with the life I was leading, so decided to change it," I say. Why I tell him that I have no idea, it wasn't particularly appropriate, so I rush on. "I don't have bar experience, however, I'm bright, hard working, and have plenty of experience with stellar customer service. You won't have to explain anything to me more than once, perhaps twice if it is particularly complicated, and I'm pretty much willing to work for whatever you'll pay me." I pause to take a breath, before finishing, "I'm capable, adaptable, and I know for a fact you'll not be disappointed if you hire me. No one ever has been, and I don't plan to have you be the first."
For all my bold words, I am only half convinced they are true. I really don't know anything about working in a pub and while I am intelligent and resourceful, I have next to no experience to draw upon. Not wanting to appear anything less than confident, however, I keep my chin high, my gaze steady, and use my meager acting skills to appear calm and confident.
Ian considers me for a moment, before breaking into rapid fire questioning.
"Have you ever mixed a drink?" he asks.
"Of course," I reply.
"Where?"
"At a party. I mean, many parties. I make a wicked mudslide," I respond with a wink that is far sassier than I'm actually feeling.
"Can you tap a keg?"
"I'm sure I can learn," I say enthusiastically.
Rolling his eyes, he asks, "Do you have any food industry experience?"
"I was a barista for six months while I saved up enough money for a trip to Australia," I answer.
He pauses then, looking like I've finally given him something he could work with, so I continue.
"After three months, they asked me to manage the cafe. I declined, but I couldn't have been a total fuck up if they offered me the job, right?" I smile hopefully, a little surprised at myself for having cussed out loud. Fuck litters my thoughts, but I rarely swear around other people, and especially not in the middle of a job interview.
But I read the room right, and Pappy laughs while Ian gives me a reluctant nod.
"Whatever you need, whatever you want, I'm your girl. I'll do anything!" I say. His eyes meet mine at this, and a jolt of electricity courses through my body. Of course, I had been talking about the job, but one look from Ian and my mind goes careening off into a whole other direction. One that has us both naked, with me on my knees in front of him, his hands in my hair and my mouth around his cock.
Geez, I need to get home to B.O.B. before I combust! First, I have to close the deal.
"So," I say, clearing my throat and trying to ignore the gleam in Ian's eyes, and the heat causing my entire body to flush. "What do you say? How about a trial? Give me two weeks, and if you aren't completely happy with my performance, I'll leave without payment."
"Complete satisfaction or my money back?" Ian says, with a quick wink of his own. Oh, if given the chance, I'd satisfy him alright! I'd lick, and bite, and suck until he'd be begging to pay me!
"You have my word," I say. Standing, I walk over to him and present my hand. He takes it and the thrill of it has my core pulsing again. It is large and warm, and it's so very easy to imagine that hand roving over my naked flesh. Holy crap, what on earth have I gotten myself into?
"Tomorrow, noon, we'll start your training then," he says, with a nod of his head.
And just like that, I am employed.
I head home and call my mom.
"I've got a job!" I crow, as soon as she has answered the phone.
"Congratulations, honey," she says enthusiastically. "Where? What will you be doing?"
"It's at an Irish pub called McGregors. I am so excited! I've always wanted to work in a pub. I doubt he'll let me tend bar anytime soon, but I might be able to work up to it. Actually, I don't know what I'm going to do. I talked about some marketing and volunteered to do pretty much anything. Gosh, it might have made sense for me to actually understand what my job description was … " I trail off. This is very unlike me. I have everything planned and mapped out, always. I review the next day's schedule each night so I know what to expect the following day. Yep, I'm definitely going through a midlife crisis. Truth be told, it's kind of fun. It's invigorating. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but it includes employment, and an insanely beautiful boss, so I'm stoked.
"A pub? Honey, you have a Masters degree, why don't you get an office job or something a little more … challenging? One that utilizes your skills?" I'm the youngest of three daughters and my mother is very proud of the fact that I was the first in our family to go to college; she doesn't want me to waste my potential. I understand where she is coming from, but I'm not in the mood for motherly advice.
"Mom, I'm psyched. I think this is going to be fun, and challenging in a whole new way. But I've got to go. Just wanted to say hi and let you know that I got a job," I say.
"You just called," she says.
"I know, but I have to go buy some outfits for work!"
"You haven't even gotten a paycheck yet and you are going to spend -" she starts.
"Bye, mom!" I shout and disconnect the call.
I text Rae a quick - I'm employed, hazaah! Wait until you see my boss! GORGEOUS - and then jump online to find the closest mall, and the bus that'll take me there.
Seven hours later, I'm home; my three new pairs of jeans, five trendy tees, and very comfy pair of Doc Martens are all put away. I bought a couple pairs of great earrings as well. There is no way I'm going to be able to compete with the stunning women of L.A., but I'm going to have to at least try; I want tips. And since I'm far too practical to do anything but dress for the occasion, I made sure my tees were nice deep V-cuts, and that my earrings were long and dangly, to accentuate my neck. I can only hope the jewelry will attract Ian's eye, and then he'll be forced to think about kissing my neck (naturally). Lord knows, I will be thinking about it.