The Boss's Proposal (Billionaire Bad Boy BBW Romance)(6)

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Bear Twins & the Bartender:



Bear Shifter Ménage Romance



It had been a hot, sunny day that was turning into a sticky night. The  waves lapped the shore in a lazy fashion, as though they too were tired  from the long day. Claire Underwood ran along the boardwalk ignoring the  ocean. It was quiet this time of the evening-being too late for the  daytime folk and too early for the night dwellers-but she was late for  her shift, and her boss, Charlie, took exception to that.

The sign above Cool Joe's was blinking into life as the sun finally  began to dip below the horizon, slowly plunging New York into a merciful  darkness. The heat wave had, so far, been unbearable. Hot enough to  melt the asphalt, her father would say. Claire smiled at the memory. She  would have to stop by the house some time … then again, maybe not.

With a wave to Nick, a tall Roman god of a boy, who was tending the  outside tables, Claire ducked into the stifling, beer-scented, interior  of Cool Joe's. Established in 2017, this was the oldest bar  –  restaurant  on the boardwalk. It had a fine history and had managed to send land  developers packing whenever they came knocking. In fact it was  practically an icon, and Charlie kept the place buzzing by employing  staff that looked more like models than bartenders and waiters.

Of course not all of Cool Joe's neighbors had been lucky and many of the  old places, including the amusement park, had closed down. Now ugly  holiday apartment blocks rose, so close to the ocean that some of them  even boasted rooms below the water line, for those who could afford a  truly ocean view.

"You're late," Charlie sneered. He was a short man with a hanging paunch  that his belt would never circumnavigate. His staff shirt, a light blue  golf tee with Cool Joe's silk-screened on it, was sweat-stained and he  smelled of cigars.







Claire rushed behind the bar, aiming to shove her bag under the polished wood top, but Charlie's hand closed over her arm.

"You're not tending my bar looking like that," he said and let go of  her. "Go clean yourself up. My customers want pretty girls, not ones  that look like they just ran The New York Marathon."

"Wow, Charlie you're in rare form tonight," Alicia, a tall woman with  blue hair and big-boobs, sneered as she poured the one customer at the  bar his beer. "Give her a break, huh?"

"I'll do more than that!" Charlie said.

Recognizing the spat that was about to ensue between the two lovebirds,  Claire ducked into the bathroom. Turning to the mirror, she looked at  herself critically. Only twenty-five and she had bags under her  eyes-actual bags. She prodded one with a long finger. Then, she lifted  her handbag onto the side of the sink and rummaged for her make up.

"You have the best skin."

Claire looked up, startled and saw Jenny emerging from a cubicle. She  was very tall and muscular, and up until recently, she had answered to  the name of "Jonah."

"Hi Jen," Claire said, pulling her eyeliner out of her bag and dragging it under her left eye.

Jenny stood behind her, her eyes roaming over Claire with obvious envy.

"You know if I looked like you, I would never wear these silly staff  shirts like that," Jenny said. "And I would totally do something else  with my hair. I mean, it's soft and such a rich black, it's beautiful.  Really! And those green eyes! How did you get those anyway? Your dad  is … "

"Yeah, he's black but my mom is Greek, I got them from her."

"Good, because you didn't get enough boob," Jenny said. "Of course if we  just do this," and she grabbed Claire by the shirt, rearranging it a  little so that it no longer hung like a limp sail and revealed just  enough cleavage. "There. That should get you extra tips tonight. Now  don't tie that hair up darling. Let it be free."

Jenny smiled at her and flounced out of the room. It was strange for  Claire, but in Jenny's presence, she always felt like she was the man in  the room. She sighed. This was it. This is what her life had become:  getting all dolled up to serve alcohol to people who would never know  her name. What a waste. Oh well, it was work, and that was hard to come  by. So Claire ignored Jenny's advice and tied her hair up letting her  long ponytail hang down between her shoulder blades. She was damned if  she was going to overheat just for extra tips.

Fixed up properly, Claire returned to the bar and dumped her bag. Charlie ran an eye over her face.

"You happy?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said. "Now sell your ass off. I want a record night."

The bar filled up. It was a young crowd tonight, full of excitement and  wanting cocktails more than beer. So Claire was up to her armpits in  peppermint liqueur, Jägermeister, and something Alicia was mixing called  Golden Bowls, that had just about everything it them except the kitchen  sink.

The music was loud and rocking with one of Claire's favorite bands, The  Juniper Blossoms, playing their hearts out on the little stage Charlie  had set up for the summer. Voices tried to rise above the din but after  years in this bar, Claire could just about read the patron's minds and  the sales were ringing in making Charlie smile, and the tips were  raining down making the staff smile.

A world of swirling color slid around Claire all perfect and familiar.  But there was one off note in her harmony. It took her a moment to  realize that it was coming from the far end of the long bar. Seated in  the corner, dragging a strange darkness with them were two men.

One look was all it took to know that they were brothers: the same high  cheekbones and strong jawlines, same lips and thin noses. But there were  differences. One was bigger, more muscled under his black t-shirt. This  one seemed to radiate an air of barely contained energy like he might  jump out of his skin at any moment. The other was smaller. He sat on the  bar chair like he owned it and had sat in it for years. He had a  friendly ease about him that made Claire just about tackle Alicia to the  floor so she could get to them first.

"Go ahead!" Alicia said moving behind Claire her hands up in surrender.

Claire stumbled, crashing into the side of the bar in her haste to reach  these two mystery men. The smaller one smiled, turning the most  beautiful blue eyes on her. Claire tried to recover but those eyes were  pulling the blush up her body from her toes. Oh God don't you dare  Claire, don't you dare.

"So what'll it be?" she asked using the tried and tested bartender line from antiquity.







"What beer do you have on tap?" the smaller man asked. His voice was  like syrup, golden and delicious. He had a faint accent that Claire  couldn't place.

"Well, we got Millers, Heineken, Kilkenny, Guinness and the house craft  beer." Claire rattled them off, her gaze locked with his. Her elbows  thudded on the bar as she leaned in handing him a menu. "They're all on  here." She smiled.

"What is this Craft Beer?" the bigger one asked turning. Claire  swallowed. Where his brother was smooth and refined this one was raw. He  turned piercing blue eyes on her and then smiled the same hypnotic grin  as his brother.

All her thoughts ran out of her ears. "Um … it's made here. Charlie brews  it in the basement actually." She tossed her head on one side. Jed  leaned in holding the menu up but not looking at it. She could feel his  eyes slipping to her neckline. Thank you Jenny for the extra cleavage.  "It's a light beer; local; smooth; very tasty. Once you've tried it,  you'll never want anything else." Claire purred and somewhere in the  back of her mind, she wondered what the hell she was doing.

"Mmm, I'll have a Guinness, and my little brother Jed here will have a  glass of milk," said the bigger one. His accent was heavier, sounding  very Eastern European.

The smaller one thumped his brother on the arm. "Don't listen to Lance,  he's full of crap. Smooth and tasty, you say," he licked his lips.  "Never want anything else, eh? I'll try the craft beer."

Claire realized she was just leaning against the bar, staring. She managed to snap herself out of it.

"Coming right up," she chirped and pushed herself slowly off the bar. As  she walked away to place the order she turned to glance over her  shoulder. Jed was still watching her. She put a little extra swing into  her hips as she walked back down the bar to the barrels.

Away from the brothers she gulped fresh air and felt intensely grateful  to be pouring something simple. But her hand was shaking anyway and she  ended up with far too much foam on the Guinness, and not enough at all  on the Craft.

What was this effect these men had on her? It was almost feral. She had  just about thrown herself at them across the bar. She was going to have  to exercise more self-control. Flirting was fine, it was part of the  job, but blatant sexual desire … she might as well hang a sign around her  neck saying desperate.

Claire gripped the drinks like a barrier and placed them down in front of Jed and Lance.