by Nia Arthurs
Despite the fact that she’d slept in Benson’s arms till morning, she was exhausted.
Stifling a yawn, Carrie drifted to sleep.
When she woke up next, the sun was high in the sky. She scrambled out of bed and grappled for her phone. The time read two forty-five.
Carrie gasped and shot straight to the bathroom. A quick shower was all she could afford. After tossing her hair into a careless ponytail and rubbing on some gloss, Carrie grabbed her bag and darted to her car.
On the drive over, she calmed the pang in her stomach with some water. Now that she’d slept for almost the entire day, the night before felt like a distant dream. Soon, she’d forget it ever happened.
Hopefully.
As much as she’d enjoyed Benson’s expertise with her body—and she had—Carrie felt a little grimy about the entire thing. A one-night stand was something she’d cross off her ‘Try Anything Once’ list and would never attempt again.
Ready to throw herself into work, Carrie parked beside Hidden Reef and scurried through the side doors.
Stacie was waiting for her behind the bar. Zeke, the hot bartender, and a few of the other waitresses were standing in a line like soldiers waiting for orders.
Her steps slowed and she stared uncertainly at her boss. “What’s going on?”
“Didn’t you get my text?” Stacie hissed. She was a slim woman with sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and wide eyes ringed with enough eyeliner to rival a raccoon. Stacie tossed her silky, raven hair over her shoulder. “I sent everyone a message in the group chat last night. What were you doing?”
“You know. This and that.” She cleared her throat and sent Zeke a bewildered glance.
He just shrugged.
Stacie clasped her hands. “You all know that I’ve been planning a trip to Korea…”
Carrie tried and failed to suppress her smile. Everyone at Hidden Reef had waited with baited breath for the blessed day to arrive.
“… And Carrie’s supposed to hold over for me while I’m gone.”
Zeke clasped her shoulders while the waitresses clapped and shot her thumbs-up gestures. Carrie ducked her head to hide her proud smirk. She’d been working here the longest, but it would be the first time managing alone.
“But,” Stacie continued, “there’s been a change of plans.”
Her back straightened. “A what?”
The side door banged open and heavy footsteps thudded through the dim interior of the bar. A voice that had growled some dirty things in her ear just last night echoed through the room. “Sorry, I’m late, Stace. I got caught up in traffic.”
“Everyone, meet Benson.” Stacie beamed while Carrie looked in mounting horror at the man she thought she’d never see again. “Your new boss.”
4
Benson jogged into Hidden Reef. The pounding of his footsteps reverberated in the empty hallway. His brown duffel bag slapped against his back. He dove through the doors and entered the main hall.
Outside had been blazing with sunlight, so his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim interior. He blinked a few times and glanced around. From what he could see, this place had Stacie’s fingerprints all over it.
Metal barstools. Check.
Recessed lighting. Check.
Enough mirrors to rival a fun house. Check.
The only thing his older sister liked more than herself was her reflection. Not that Benson was knocking on her self-confidence. He admired Stace. Even if she scared the hell out of him.
Which was why he ran like his life depended on it.
A glance at his watch had him muttering an expletive. Stacie was definitely going to bite his head off. She hated tardiness just about as much as she loved herself.
In the distance, he spotted his noona. She had one slender hand propped on her hip and the other planted on the barstool. Benson winced. Looked like somebody was getting blasted.
Better someone else than me.
As he approached, he hurled out his apology like a wooden shield on a war-torn field. “Sorry I’m late, Stace.”
His big sister whirled around and narrowed her eyes at him.
He skidded to a stop, near enough to convey his apologies with his expression and far enough that the flames of her wrath would be a safe distance from him.
Chest heaving with every breath, he explained, “I got caught up in traffic.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Stacie mouthed.
Benson swallowed his fear.
Stacie spun to her crew. A thin smile curled her lips. “Everyone, meet Benson.”
“Hey.” Benson dipped his head in greeting and glanced at the people lined up behind the bar. There were three girls in tanks and skirts. A guy stood beside them. He had brown hair, high cheekbones, and wide eyes.
Benson figured that Stacie would have hired him for his face alone whether he knew a thing about making drinks.
There was one more woman.
His eyes slid to her.
Somewhere in his brain, he registered her glowing brown skin, wide eyes and plump lips. It looked like Carrie, but there was no way the woman he’d just spent the night with would be standing there.
He blinked.
When the vision remained, the smile on his face collapsed into a stunned frown.
Carrie?
“Your new boss,” Stacie added, gesturing to his chin. “Applause, everyone?”
As a smattering of hesitant applause broke out, he watched Carrie. Her hands hung stiffly at her sides. Her expression tightened.
Curiosity surged through him. Did she work here? That… could explain why, when she’d described a typical bar owner, she’d described Stacie’s personality to a tee.
She was talking about my sister.
Benson tucked his surprise behind a calm expression. Carrie had made it abundantly clear that their night together had meant nothing. That was the same for him. Sort of.
Benson refused to make her uncomfortable by mentioning that they’d met. Pretending that he didn’t know her, he nodded. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“You too.”
“Benson has eight years of experience in the business, and I’m sure he’ll bring a lot to the table. I’d like everyone to work with him and make Hidden Reef…”
A thudding sound cut Stacie’s speech short. Benson moved his attention to where Carrie was standing.
Except there was no Carrie there.
“Oh my go—Carrie!” Stacie screamed.
Benson shot forward and gripped the rim of the counter, inspecting the ground.
Carrie lay on the floor, still. Unmoving.
“I think she fainted,” one of the girls said.
Stacie gasped. “Is she okay?”
Benson sprinted around the bar and knelt at Carrie’s side. Her eyes were closed. He pressed his fingers against her throat and felt the blessed knock of her pulse against his skin. “She’s alive.”
“Why would she faint like that?” someone whispered behind his back.
“I’d faint too if someone just waltzed in and took my job from me,” another replied.
Benson glanced over his shoulder to pinpoint the owners of the voices. The women shirked back when he narrowed his eyes at them.
Stacie dropped to her knees. “What do we do?”
“You got somewhere I can set her down? A bed? A chair?”
“We have a sofa in the lounge.”
Benson slipped one hand beneath Carrie’s knees and curved the other around her shoulders. Much as he’d done earlier when he carried her to the car, he lifted her and followed his fretting sister into a back room.
Carrie roused on the way.
She lifted her head with a groan. Benson took note of the sound and turned to look her over. Their faces were closer than he’d calculated. This near, he could see every dark fleck in her brown irises, the smoothness of her skin, the texture of her lips.
Her breath fanned against his jaw.
If he leaned in, he
could kiss her.
His grip on her thighs tightened and he coiled his self-restraint around the impulse, tugging it back like a cowboy restraining a bucking calf. Just because Carrie slept with him once didn’t give him permission to kiss her every time he felt like it.
Carrie blinked.
Shook her head.
As she came to herself, she gasped and pushed away from him. Since Benson had a secure grip on her body, she couldn’t go far.
“What are you doing?” She wiggled. “Put me down.”
“In here.” Stacie shoved a door open and led him into a small room that housed a television, a fridge and a worn sofa.
Benson set Carrie down and she half-jumped out of his arms, landing on the chair. He smirked to himself and stood back, giving her space.
“What happened?” Carrie demanded.
“You fainted.” Stacie huffed out a breath. “What the hell, Carrie? Aren’t you taking care of yourself?”
At surface level, his sister sounded harsh, but he knew this was typical Stace, especially when she cared about someone.
Benson shook his head and spoke to Carrie. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?”
“No.” She shot him a dark look.
He ignored it. “Stace, you have any of those granola bars you like so much?”
“Yeah, it’s in my purse.” Stacie hustled toward the door. “I’ll go get it.”
The moment the door slammed behind her, Benson crouched in front of Carrie. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped and stared at the wall to the left of his head.
He studied her trim eyebrows as they met in a V at the bridge of her nose. Benson really shouldn’t be this amused by their serendipitous reunion and her reaction to it, but he was.
“Why didn’t you eat this morning?”
“That’s none of your business,” she hissed.
“Here we go!” Stacie burst through the door and wielded at least six packages of granola bars at Carrie. With wide eyes, she demanded, “Are you sure all she needs to do is eat? Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital or something?”
“It’s not that big a deal,” Carrie said, sitting upright in the sofa. She nodded to Stacie. “Can I speak to you? In private?”
“About what?”
Carrie’s gaze darted to him.
Benson got the point and excused himself. “I’ll go tell the rest of the crew that you’re up.”
Stacie ignored him and fell into the couch beside Carrie.
He closed the door and headed outside.
“How is she?” The guy pacing the length of the bar frowned. “Is she up?”
“Yeah. Stacie is talking to her now.”
“Great.” He blew out a breath and then pointed to his chest. “I’m Zeke.” Gesturing to the girls, he said, “That’s Patricia, Tanya, and Wendy. They’re waitresses. I’m the bartender.”
Benson shook Zeke’s hand. “Thanks for the rundown, but it’ll take me a while to remember everyone’s names.”
“Can I ask why you’re here?” Zeke jutted his chin toward the backroom where he’d taken Carrie. “I don’t mean to be rude, but Car is more than capable of handling things on her own.”
“Stacie asked me to step in. It’s nothing personal.”
“Mm-hm.”
Benson could sense that Zeke didn’t approve of the decision. Too bad. He hadn’t intended to step on anyone’s toes, but he wasn’t looking for friends either. He and Carrie could work together without problems.
Right?
“I should go check on Carrie,” Zeke grumbled.
“Zeke!” One of the waitresses called him back. “The guys from the brewery are here!”
Zeke growled. “Crap. I forgot they were coming in today. You think Stacie and Carrie are done talking?”
“I’ll get my sister if you need her.”
Zeke nodded his thanks and sprinted toward the side door.
Benson headed back to the employee lounge. Carrie’s voice drifted to his ears just before he knocked. Curious, Benson pressed his ear against the door to listen.
Carrie’s earnest voice snapped, “I don’t need a babysitter. Is it because you don’t trust me—?”
“Of course I trust you,” Stacie hissed.
“Then why’d you bring in someone from the outside to do a job that I could handle on my own?”
“I know you love this place, Carrie. You’ve contributed so much to Hidden Reef, but Benson’s got skills. I’d never admit it to his face because he has a big head already, but I’ve seen the way he handles his business. I want him to help us grow until we’re not just a hot club but the hottest club.”
“And you don’t think I can do that?”
“I think this is your first time managing anything alone. I think that Benson’s already started clubs not just here but back in Korea.”
He heard Carrie scoff.
“At least try to work with him?”
“I refuse.”
“Why are you so against this? I figured you’d be offended at first, but now that I’ve explained…”
“It’s nothing.”
“Just don’t quit on me. I’ve already got enough turnovers with new waitresses. Between you and Zeke, my brother needs to learn how we do things around here. Can you remove your personal feelings from the equation and focus on the good of the club?”
Carrie said nothing.
He could understand her distress. Sure, he hadn’t planned on running into the woman he’d hooked up with at his sister’s club, but Carrie kept insisting it didn’t mean anything. He hadn’t thought his presence would be that upsetting.
Benson knocked on the door.
The voices inside went quiet.
Turning the knob, he pushed his head in. “Stace, you’re needed out front.”
“Oh, right. The brewery.” She headed for the door and pinned him with a stern look. “Next time you’re late, I’ll string you up a tree by your drawers. Understand?”
He danced out of her reach and gave her a charming smile. “Love you too, sis.”
Stacie bounded away.
Benson heard the thud of sneakers and glanced up to find Carrie striding toward him. She glanced at Stacie who was hurrying around the bend and then drew closer, leaning in to hiss, “Stay out of my way and we’ll both survive this.”
“Is that a threat?”
Her eyes flashing, she shrugged. “Take it as whatever you want.”
When she tried to barrel past, he slapped his hand on the doorway to bar her way. Carrie’s gaze flipped to his, searing and intense. Instead of intimidation, Benson felt an insane desire to crash those walls and connect with the sultry, sensitive woman he’d met last night.
Bending over so they were almost nose-to-nose, he winked. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Now that I’m in your way, I want to see what happens.”
Her plump lips curled up.
His pulse hammered.
Carrie rose on the balls of her feet as if she would kiss him but changed direction halfway and let her lips graze his ear as she whispered, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He grinned and stepped back.
Without another glance, Carrie stalked through the door.
5
“Say that again because I think I misheard you.” Joana Lee Gregory stuck a light brown finger into her ear and winced. “Your one-night-stand turned out to be your boss?”
“My boss’s brother,” Carrie corrected.
“But technically he’s in charge,” Sky Johnson tilted her head. “So he’s your boss.”
“He’s a… consultant.”
“Who tells you what to do,” Sky said.
Jo pursed her lips and sang, “All… night… long.”
“Shut up.” Carrie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser nearby and tossed it at her. It floated harmlessly to the ground. “You guys are supposed to be making me feel better.”
“I’m just trying to understand.” Jo counte
d off on her slender fingers. “You met some random guy at a bar, went to the beach to sleep with him, went home and then ran into him later at work.”
Sky chuckled. Her bright brown eyes twinkled when she added, “Then you fainted…”
“Because I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before!”
“… And now you’re stuck with him for the next three months.” Sky shook her head so her short curls spun wildly behind her. “There’s no way any of us can make that situation better.”
Carrie huffed. “You all suck. I should have just stayed home.”
“Then you would have missed out on these amazing brownies.” Sky passed her the plate.
Carrie daintily selected the corner piece and stuffed the delectable treat into her mouth. A moan of pleasure escaped without her consent.
No wonder Sky’s treats were in demand. The woman had magic fingers.
Carrie studied the bakery. Cream, orange and pink walls. Large display counters picked clean by hordes of customers. Wide glass windows that looked out into the morning light.
She’d had to time it perfectly right so she could meet up with the girls after the morning rush. Any time before seven forty and this place was total chaos.
Sky nudged her with a foot. “Sorry, Carrie. We were just teasing. Don’t take it personally.”
Carrie nodded. Sky was the equivalent of a human teddy bear. She had a sensitive heart and a habit of giving everyone the benefit of the doubt.
When they’d first met a few months ago, Carrie thought Sky’s I-couldn’t-hurt-a-fly shtick was an act. She’d never met anyone that naïve.
After a few weeks of observing Sky, she realized that the baker was completely sincere. Carrie got over her suspicions and kept in touch—not just for the free desserts, but because she truly enjoyed Sky’s company.
Now their bi-weekly meetings at Sweet Treats had become tradition.
“Do you all think I’m a skank?” Carrie asked.
“A skank? Noooo.” Jo scrunched her nose.
“You do!” Carrie pointed to her face. Jo was half black and half Korean. Her slanted eyes revealed everything she was thinking. Right now they were collapsed into slits—a neon sign that she was lying. “I can see it all over you.”
