Speed Dating the Boss

by Sue Brown

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Exclusive Excerpt

  More from Sue Brown

  Readers love Sue Brown

  About the Author

  By Sue Brown

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Speed Dating the Boss

  By Sue Brown

  Cowboys and Angels: Book One

  Will a mix of privilege and blue collar be a recipe for love… or disaster?

  Dan’s pretty satisfied with his job at the working-class bar Cowboys and Angels. He enjoys his simple life, his apartment, and his cat, but he could do without the fights that break out in the bar, his boss’s meddling daughter, Ariel… oh, and a brutal, unrequited crush on his straight alpha boss, Gideon.

  When Dan’s friend prepares to tie the knot, everyone insists that Dan needs a date for the wedding. Before he can protest, Ariel arranges a gay speed-dating event at the bar with Gideon as a participant. The unforeseen revelation that Gideon is bisexual raises Dan’s hopes, especially when Gideon announces that he wants to accompany Dan to the wedding. Could Gideon really be interested in Dan?

  When Dan needs someone most, Gideon offers his unconditional support, and with genuine commitment, he shows Dan the kind of man he really is. Teaming up to save the wedding from a hungover groom and intolerant parents, can Gideon convince Dan they’re the best match since beer and pizza?

  To Clare London, who’s been my “officemate” for many years. To many more visits to the Office.

  Chapter 1

  “INCOMING!”

  At the shout Daniel Collins dropped to the floor. A projectile skimmed the top of his buzz cut and narrowly missed the bottles behind him.

  “Quit throwing glasses at me,” he yelled, knowing he was wasting his breath and likely to get smacked in the mouth. It was futile. Everyone was too liquored up to pay any attention to the barmen cowering behind the thick mahogany bar.

  That was their usual Friday-night entertainment at their favorite bar. Cowboys and Angels was a long established blue-collar bar, not a place for Wall Street suits or hipsters. Late afternoon, students came in search of jugs of cocktails and cheap beer. They vanished by early evening in search of music and dancing and left behind the construction workers and builders who came for the extensive list of draft beers and a chance to relax. On a Friday night, they’d get paid, arrive at Cowboys and Angels in time for happy hour, and drink with their buddies until closing. A fight was added entertainment. They’d throw punches with random glee, not caring where they connected. Then they’d go home, arms slung around the guy they’d been beating up ten minutes beforehand singing at the top of their voices.

  So, Friday night as usual.

  “They started early tonight.” Dan’s coworker Bradley ducked as a barstool went flying over their heads to crash into the fridge.

  Dan cursed as the stool rebounded and caught him on the cheek. He was convinced he was going to end the evening in the ER, with stitches and a concussion. “Ariel’s in the bar.”

  “Where the hell is Gideon? He’s supposed to keep her under control.” Bradley lobbed the stool back over the bar, not caring where it landed. From the pained grunt, he could tell it made contact with someone.

  “Get him down here,” Dan ordered.

  Arms over his head, Bradley crawled along the bar to the phone and dialed the boss’s number. “Boss, get her out of here now, or you won’t have a bar left.” He nodded at Dan. “He’s on his way.”

  That was one of the things Dan appreciated about his boss—no questions, no discussion, just action. His daughter, Ariel, was like that too, except she was normally the center of all the trouble.

  Time to shut the fight down before it got out of hand—more out of hand. Dan grabbed the baseball bat tucked behind the bar, sent up a quick prayer that he wasn’t about to get glassed, and got to his feet.

  “Stop!” he yelled it at the top of his lungs, honed by years of practice. For a moment the action continued. A bottle crashed by his ear. “Cut it the fuck out,” he yelled again, feeling the sting in his other cheek. “The next person who twitches a muscle gets banned for life.” The occupants of the bar froze as though Dan had hit Pause on the remote control.

  “Sorry, Dan.”

  He didn’t know who made the muttered apology, and he didn’t care. Nobody moved a muscle. Their attention was fixed on the baseball bat Dan was smacking into one hand. So far Dan had never had to use the bat, and he intended to keep it that way. Dan saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and swung around, bat ready for action. Then he relaxed at the sight of the tall figure. “Boss.”

  “Good job,” Gideon drawled.

  Dressed in a tight black T-shirt with the blue Cowboy and Angels logo and jeans that molded his ass, he stood like a giant in the middle of the destruction. Originally from Texas, at six foot five, Gideon was two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. Despite being ten years older, he could bench-press Dan—and had—without breaking a sweat. There were men there who made Gideon look small, but they all listened to him. Not for the first time, Dan wished he had Gideon’s physical presence.

  Gideon picked his way over the broken glass and tipped-over furniture to arrive at his daughter’s side. He held out his free hand and hauled her off the floor in one smooth move. “Ariel, darlin’, what happened this time?”

  Ariel tossed her head and grinned at him. She had no shame. “No idea, Daddy. I was just here for a quiet drink with my friends.” She pointed to the two young men either side of her who stared at Gideon. Both of them wore terrified expressions.

  “Darlin’, that’s the biggest pile of horse puckey you told me since the last time you destroyed my bar.” Gideon sounded more resigned than annoyed.

  An NYU senior, Ariel was twenty-one with blonde hair the color of ripe wheat, baby-blue eyes, and a cute smile for everyone. She was the sunny day to Gideon’s night, since he had dark curls and deep gray-green eyes. Ariel was the belle of the ball, and a pain in Dan’s ass. He preferred the nights when she didn’t come into the bar and expect everyone’s attention. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ariel, but Dan was fond of the quiet life, and Ariel was too high-maintenance for him. His tastes ran to denim-clad asses, broad shoulders, long legs… and maybe looking like his boss.

  There was nothing anyone could say to the boss about his precious daughter. He adored Ariel, and she got away with absolute murder. Dan liked her. They all liked her, but she was an incredibly beautiful spoiled brat. Gideon had lost his wife and young son to a carjacking. Dan got his job at Cowboys and Angels about a year after they died. It was obvious Gideon and Ariel were still distraught from the loss of Sarah and Simon. There were photos of the family everywhere in Gideon’s apartment—happy, smiling faces, unaware of the tragedy in their future. After their deaths Gideon focused all his attention on Ariel. It wasn’t as though Gideon didn’t know he indulged her, but he would do an
ything to make her happy. Her saving grace, in Dan’s eyes, was that she knew just how spoiled she was, and she tempered it with a kind heart and a wicked sense of humor.

  Gideon held her hand and looked around at the men prostrate at their feet. “Get out now, all of you.”

  There was a hush and a pause, as though they were waiting for more instructions. Then Gideon raised an eyebrow, and everybody moved. There was a rush for the door as the men fought to get out, and finally the place was empty.

  “You can come out now, boys,” Ariel trilled.

  Bradley and the other barman got to their feet. Dan sighed at the chaos around the wood-paneled bar. It was going to be another night of clearing up, another night when he would get fewer tips and plenty of cuts and bruises. He ought to get combat pay for working at Cowboys and Angels. Who was he kidding? He’d been saying that for five years, and yet he was still there.

  As if he’d read Dan’s mind, Gideon rumbled, “You boys injured?” He’d been in New York for a quarter of a century—yet the Texas drawl remained, his voice like a rumble of thunder in the far distance—compared to Dan, who’d lived in Brooklyn all his life.

  Dan gingerly touched the graze on his cheek. It had already stopped bleeding. “No more than usual.”

  Gideon strode over to him. “Show me,” he demanded as he tilted Dan’s chin to inspect his injuries.

  Dan stood, self-conscious as always under Gideon’s steely gaze. They were so close Dan could smell the coffee on Gideon’s breath. He could have made one slight move and brushed Gideon’s mouth with his own. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t dreamed about doing that a million times.

  Thankfully oblivious to Dan’s thoughts, Gideon gently touched first one and then the other cheek, and try as he might, Dan couldn’t help but flinch away from the gentle touch.

  Gideon frowned at him. “Where does it hurt?”

  “It’s fine.” If Gideon didn’t step out of Dan’s personal space, Dan was liable to do something stupid.

  “There’s no glass in this one, and it’s stopped bleeding. I’ll clean it out.” Gideon righted a bar stool and pushed Dan onto it.

  “I can do it,” Dan began, but he subsided under Gideon’s hard stare.

  Dammit, Gideon knew just how to make Dan sit and stay like a pet dog.

  “Give me the first aid kit.” Gideon held his hand out to Bradley, who handed it over and vanished in the direction of the janitor’s closet.

  Once Gideon had cleaned Dan’s wound to his satisfaction, Dan put on gloves that were left under the bar just for that purpose and collected the larger pieces of glass to put in the trash can. Gideon and Ariel righted the furniture, and Bradley swept up.

  “No broken tables or stools this time,” Gideon said. “That’s a record for you, darlin’.”

  She winked at him. “I’ll have to do better next time.”

  Gideon looked over as Dan snorted. “Got something to say?”

  “No, boss.”

  Dan continued to clear up and left Gideon to talk to his errant daughter in private. When they had vanished, Bradley rolled his eyes, and Dan snorted again. He might have a huge crush on the man, but Dan wasn’t stupid. No staff member said anything negative about Ariel to Gideon’s face, not if they wanted to keep their job. And Dan did want to keep his job. Of all the bars he’d worked in, Cowboys and Angels was his favorite.

  Not that Dan wanted to be a barman there forever. He had plans for his future, and they were almost within his grasp. Another year, possibly two, and he would be ready for the next stage of his life. Then he’d leave Cowboys and Angels—and Gideon—behind. Dan stared at the piece of glass in his hand. He would miss Gideon, but he couldn’t spend the rest of his life crushing on a man who didn’t know he existed. He just wished the thought of a future apart from Gideon didn’t hurt so much.

  “Dan?”

  He looked up to see Gideon studying him with a worried expression. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  Aside from wanting you? “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “Finish up here, and you can go.”

  “And leave you to clean up my bar?” Dan teased.

  Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Your bar?”

  “My bar,” Dan said, and they grinned at each other.

  It was an old joke. It was Gideon’s bar, but he had other businesses and didn’t spend much time downstairs. Dan was the closest thing to a manager that Cowboys and Angels had. Of course, if Gideon actually made him manager, Dan’s plans for the future would change. But Gideon was reluctant to let go of the reins. It was his baby and the one business he’d operated with his late wife.

  “Dan, you’re standing on a piece of glass,” Bradley said, interrupting their staring contest.

  He looked down to see a sharp piece of glass and moved hastily to pick it up. Gideon turned away to talk to Ariel.

  Bradley and the other barman approached him. “We can’t go on like this,” Bradley said softly enough not to attract Gideon’s attention.

  “You mean Ariel?” Dan asked.

  They both nodded.

  “I’ll speak to Gideon.” He looked over to where Gideon was talking to his daughter. They were both laughing, and despite the difference in their coloring, Dan could see the family resemblance.

  “When?” Bradley demanded.

  “Tomorrow,” Dan promised. “You’re right. Gideon and Ariel need to face up to reality or there won’t be a Cowboys and Angels left.”

  Chapter 2

  THEY ONLY lost about an hour of business, but the cleanup took twice as long. It was nearly five in the morning when Dan left the club with Gideon’s cheery goodbye rattling in his ears as he locked the door behind him. Dan shoved his hands into his pockets and covered his head with a watch cap in a futile attempt to keep warm in the early hours of the winter day. The temperature had dropped considerably, and he was freezing after an evening in the overheated bar.

  Fortunately the Uber was warm, and Dan struggled not to doze off as he flicked through the messages he’d received during the evening. His mom, his best friend, a date that had gone disastrously wrong trying to set up another evening—no chance there—and his dentist. Why did his dentist call him in the evening? Dan didn’t care enough to listen. It would have to wait until Dan’s brain worked again. Finally he arrived home, fed his large gray cat and told her she was a worthless beast, and flung himself onto his bed. Still wearing his jacket and shoes, he fell asleep with SmokeyJo’s rumbling purr in his ears.

  Dan woke up to his phone jangling obnoxiously in his ear and the realization that he’d slept on top of his comforter again. His apartment was freezing, and his breath a white cloud in the cold air. Apartment was a generous term. It was more of a largish room with a bed stuck in a nook, a small bathroom and an even smaller galley kitchen, but it was rent controlled, and it suited Dan. He turned on the space heater and replaced his jacket with the warmest hoodie he could find. The jeans became thick sweats, and he rolled on even thicker socks. The coffee was dripping into the pot before he picked up his phone and checked who’d called him.

  It was Disastrous Date again. The man did not take a hint. Dan wasn’t interested in another evening of listening to tales of the man’s sexual encounters. Dan liked sex. Hell, he loved sex with the right person, but he preferred doing to listening, and he had no intention of becoming another conversation piece for…. Dan struggled to remember the man’s name. Peter, Paul? He shook his head. That wasn’t right, but he didn’t care enough to find out. He poured the steaming dark brew into the largest clean mug he could find. He would have to do the dishes soon or he’d be drinking from the coffeepot itself.

  At least the man was interested in him, more than anyone else had been for a long time—more than Gideon was. Dan shut down his traitorous thoughts. His love life had been as barren as a desert recently, and he struggled to think of the last time he was in a relationship. His job didn’t help, because he didn’t work office hours and he had
to take every shift he could just to pay the bills. It wasn’t like the customers of Cowboys and Angels were interested in him.

  His friends asked him on a regular basis why he didn’t work in a gay bar. They didn’t get that Dan preferred not to be hit on by the customers. Gideon employed him for that reason and the fact that Dan wasn’t going to hit on his daughter. And Gideon, the other reason Dan stayed at Cowboys and Angels, wasn’t interested in Dan either, but Dan’s heart was just stupid enough to hope that one day the situation might change.

  He looked at the message from Disastrous Date and almost called him back. Then he snorted and shoved his phone into his pocket. He wasn’t that desperate, not yet, but he was getting close.

  SmokeyJo slunk over to him and wrapped her gray silky body around his legs, reminding him that her stomach had been empty for a very long while and it was about time he paid her the attention she deserved.

  “You were fed when I got in, you lying whore,” Dan reminded her. “You can’t be that hungry again.”

  She meowed at him piteously, which Dan took to mean that she needed food at least every hour on the hour. Dan filled a bowl with kibble. SmokeyJo sniffed and gave him a look that said he’d failed again.

  “That’s all you’re getting.” He scratched her behind the ears, and she scowled and purred, an adorable combination that Dan fell for every time. Then she settled down to nibble at the despised dry food.

  He looked at the clock and was pleased to discover he didn’t have to be into work for another six hours as he was only doing the evening shift. Dan’s stomach growled, which reminded him that, unlike SmokeyJo, he hadn’t sat down to eat since lunch yesterday. If he didn’t eat soon, he would pass out, and his precious cat would eat his face in some evil, twisted revenge. He looked in the fridge and grimaced at the eggs and not-quite-rotting vegetables. It was about time he visited the local store. Though he wasn’t at home much, Dan enjoyed cooking, and he made omelets on a regular basis, so he’d had a lot of practice at using up eggs and old veggies.