by L.H. Cosway
Josey turned a nervous smile on me, oblivious to the undercurrents of the situation. “Gosh, this place is posh, isn’t it? Look at those curtains. I think that’s silk, hand-painted by the looks of it. There must be forty yards of it. And this staircase must be an original feature of the building. And that bar”—she tilted her chin towards a long bar at the far side of the room—“looks like something that belongs in a grand hotel.”
I nodded, only half listening as she continued. The hostess who’d been escorting us stopped in front of the bouncer and motioned for us to enter through the curtains. Meanwhile, the bouncer’s attention moved from me to Josey, his gaze moving over her slowly, unmistakable appreciation lifting his eyebrows. I stiffened, my hand on her back instinctively moving more fully around her body and coming to rest on her hip.
I only did this because . . . fuck if I know.
I should have suggested she wear one of her floral dresses.
The dude’s eyes came back to mine and he smirked at me as we passed, which for some reason flooded me with the kind of violence I usually only felt on the rugby field.
Thankfully, we were soon past the bouncer and being led toward a booth at the very end of the space. It overlooked the bar and dance floor, but I doubted the crowd downstairs could see us.
As we approached, a man and a woman came into view. Upon seeing us, the man stood, and after a brief moment of hesitation, so did the woman.
“Hey,” the man reached out his hand toward Josey, giving her a wide smile. “I’m Broderick. You must be Josey?” He was American, like me, but his accent sounded East Coast.
She beamed at him.
Fucking beamed.
Something hard and cold settled in the pit of my stomach and I blinked, breathing out slowly, and I forced myself to release my hold as she accepted his handshake.
“Yes. I’m Josey. You must be Broderick.”
He laughed, apparently charmed by her nervous response.
She scrunched her nose, immediately catching her error. “I mean, of course you’re Broderick. You just said you’re Broderick.” I watched as she swallowed thickly, forcing a brave smile, and turned to the woman—who, honestly, I’d forgotten was there.
“Hi, you must be Ophelia?” Josey extended her hand to the woman and I turned to look at her as well. “I’m Josey, and this is Will.”
The woman—who I guess was one of those single-named singers—grinned at Josey and gave her offered hand a good shake.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” As far as I could tell, the woman sounded sincere. “Thank you for coming along.” Her eyes came to me and she shifted back a step as her smile slipped. “Hi, Will.”
“Hi.” I gave her a nod.
The woman was wearing a black dress. Her hair was long, straight, and strawberry blonde. Her eyes were plain blue. She was tall and fit. She had a pretty face, everything was in proportion. Nothing was particularly interesting or inspiring or eye-catching about it. She was not stunning. Not like Josey.
Inwardly, I sighed. It didn’t matter if Josey was stunning. I shouldn’t be noticing if Josey was stunning, and I should definitely not be comparing my date to my—one more time—employee.
“Shall we sit?” Broderick drew my attention to him, he was giving me a hard smile. He gestured for Josey to proceed him into the booth while glaring at me, his eyes shifting to Ophelia and then back to mine, like Man, what is wrong with you?
I didn’t know this guy. Ronan’s wife Annie set up the date and she said Broderick was a good friend of hers. If Broderick was a good friend of hers, then he was likely a good guy.
But his hard look was on point. I was being rude.
Reluctantly, I turned my attention to this Ophelia person. “Do you want anything to drink?”
Her grin for me seemed forced. “We already placed our order with the server. She said she’d be right back.” Ophelia slipped back into the horseshoe shaped booth and slid to the center, placing her next to Josey and giving me plenty of room.
Once we were all sitting, Broderick looked from me to Ophelia and opened his mouth like he was about to say something.
He didn’t get a chance.
“I was just saying to Will how swanky this place is. Did you see the silk curtains? I’d like a dress made out of those, to be honest, or maybe a bathrobe. Or maybe pajamas. I also gave them a bit of a fondle as we walked in. I’m not usually a curtain fondler, but they looked so soft. And how nice are these seats? We can see the whole club from here. Is it hot? I’m a little hot.” Josey pushed off the shawl she was wearing, revealing an expanse of bare skin.
I looked away from Josey. I had to.
Ophelia’s grin slowly reemerged as Josey spoke and she shared a look with Broderick. I tensed, because they both looked amused.
I swear to God, if they’re laughing at her, I’ll punch them both in the face.
Well. . . maybe not her. I’d just have to punch him twice.
Broderick glanced at me and he blinked, his smile falling away, apparently confused by the aggression I was giving off.
But Ophelia’s attention was on Josey. “What do you do, Josey?”
“Oh, me? I’m a veterinary student. I also intern at an animal shelter. I also work for Will.”
Broderick’s eyebrows jumped, splitting his attention between us. “You work for Will?”
“Oh, not like that,” Josey rushed to explain. “He pays me to live with him.”
Broderick’s mouth dropped open and he stared at Josey. I couldn’t see Ophelia’s expression, but I suspected it matched his. Josey glanced between them, her smile waning as her features became more and more distracted. I knew what she was doing. She way replaying the conversation in her head, trying to figure out where she went wrong.
I said nothing.
Let them think whatever they wanted.
The server arrived. He delivered four drinks—two for Broderick, two for Ophelia, his eyes lingering on the latter—and then turned to Josey. “What can I get for you?”
Visibly flustered, Josey blinked at the waiter as though she hadn’t realized he was there. “Uh, I’ll take a . . . I’ll have what she’s having.” She lifted her chin towards Ophelia’s clear amber martini glass.
“A Manhattan?” The man nodded once and then turned his attention to me. “And you, sir?”
“Agave tequila, any brand. Four shots to start.”
“Fortaleza?”
“Fine.” I flicked my wrist, dismissing him.
As soon as he left, but before anyone else could speak, Josey straightened in her seat and said, “That sounded bad. It’s not bad. And everything you might have read in the papers about Will is wrong. He doesn’t hire prostitutes. He doesn’t hire anyone.”
“Except you?” Broderick asked, reaching for the first of his glasses.
“Right. Except me. And not for sex.” Like before, she’d whispered the word sex. “I’m his roommate, and that’s it.” She slashed her hand through the air, but then her eyes came to mine and she added, “That’s not exactly true. We’re also friends, I think.”
Without intending to, I was smiling. I couldn’t help it. The way she looked at me, like she was beseeching me not to reject her, compelled me to do so.
What choice did I have?
So I confirmed, “We are friends,” even as every rational fiber in my being condemned me for it.
EMPLOYEE! SHE IS YOUR EMPLOYEE!
Shit.
What was wrong with me? Why was I abandoning my principles? Accepting her friendship, confirming it, would lead nowhere good. Bending the rules, blurring the lines, just the thought usually gave me heartburn.
Meanwhile, Josey exhaled, grinning at me widely, her eyes bright, and all I could think was, bending the rules for that smile? Totally worth it.
“So none of the stories about you in the paper are true?” Broderick inspected me over the rim of his drink as he took a sip. From the looks of it, he appeared to be having either scotch or wh
iskey.
“I am a voyeur,” I responded with forced easiness, my mind still preoccupied by my earlier uncharacteristic behavior. “I like watching people, that part is true.”
I sensed Ophelia squirm uncomfortably next to me. I ignored her.
“But he doesn’t pay people, and definitely not prostitutes. He’s not like that. He doesn’t even watch porn because of the exploitation issues!” Josey was quick to explain for me. “The couples he watched were married, and they sought him out. All he did was watch married people get it on, and it’s turned into this giant . . . giant . . .”
“Clusterfuck?” Ophelia supplied as she passed Josey the extra one of her drinks, giving Josey and then me a crooked smile free of judgment.
I began to relax, though I still needed to sort through my own behavior.
“Yes! Clusterfuck!” Josey smacked the table, causing the glassware to jump. “Oh, are you sure you don’t want this one?” She gestured to the drink Ophelia had just passed her.
“They’ll bring you two as well. Since we’re having the same thing, why don’t we share?” Ophelia bumped her bare arm against Josey’s and gave her a wink.
“Oh, thank you!” Josey grinned at our tablemate and then brought the drink to her lips. She took a gulp. And then she coughed.
Broderick reached over and patted her lightly on the bare skin of her shoulder.
Aaaaand now I’m no longer relaxed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing a circle on her back.
I glared at the movements of his arm, and then shifted my glare to his face. He was looking at me, his expression thoughtful. When he placed his arm behind Josey, along the back of the booth, I glared harder. This made him smile for some reason.
“Thanks for clearing that up, Josey. I have to admit, we were curious. Annie had told me her perspective, which is why Ophelia agreed to the date, but it’s nice to have it independently verified.” Broderick turned his smile on Josey, and she smiled back. Even in the dim light I could see that she was flushed with pleasure at his words.
That cold lump in my stomach ballooned.
Thankfully, my tequila arrived at just that moment and I distracted myself by downing the first shot. But when the waiter didn’t stop until seven more were lined up in front of me, I lifted a questioning eyebrow at the man.
“What the hell is this?”
“Two for one,” Ophelia said, drawing my attention to her.
“BOGO!” Josey bounced in her seat, receiving the Manhattans she’d ordered and passing a fresh one to Ophelia. “This is fun. I love buy one, get one. It’s literally my favorite thing in the world, other than my dog. And clean underwear. And indoor plumbing. And beds. I really love beds.” Josey took another gulp of her drink, I guessed because she was trying to get herself to stop talking. This time she didn’t cough, but she did make a face and breathed out slowly, like the alcohol burned.
“Can I get anything else? Are we happy?” the server asked, his eyes on Ophelia.
“No,” I answered for everyone, my attention snagging on Broderick’s arm again, where it rested behind Josey. My eyes cut to his. Broderick was still watching me, smiling. I took another shot.
“I have an idea.” Broderick removed his arm from behind Josey’s seat and leaned an elbow on the table. “We have this game—a drinking game in the States—called, Never Have I Ever. It’s a good way to get to know people, and since that’s what we’re here for. . .” He lifted his drink and clinked it against Josey’s.
Ophelia tucked her hair behind her ear, sending me a quick but friendly glance. “Sounds good to me.”
The hint of nerves in the musician’s voice caught my notice and I studied her. She was tapping her fingers against the table in time with the music, her posture rigid, and her gaze—though she seemed to try to give each of us equal attention—lingered a bit long on Broderick.
“Fine,” I said, pushing my empty shot glasses to one side.
“This is the kind of game you usually play with beer or wine, not cocktails. So I’m limiting Will here to a quarter of a shot each drink, and you ladies to just a sip of yours.”
“How do you play?” Josey watched Broderick with rapt interest.
“It’s simple. We go around in a circle, each taking turns. The person who is ‘it’ says something they’ve never done, like, ‘Never have I ever slept in a barn,’ or ‘Never have I ever gone skydiving.’ If you have slept in a barn, or if you’ve gone skydiving, then you have to take a drink. If you haven’t, then you don’t.”
“Ah, got it!” Josey gripped her glass like she was ready to get started.
“I’ll start,” Ophelia volunteered, sending Josey another of her crooked smiles. “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”
Broderick made a face and then took a drink from his glass.
“Sorry, I already forgot. If I’ve gone skinning-dipping, then I have to drink? Or I don’t drink?” Josey asked, her cocktail lifted halfway to her lips.
“If you’ve gone skinny-dipping, then you take a drink,” Ophelia explained gently.
My pulse kicked up, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to take a drink or not. If she did, then I’d likely be fantasizing about that the next time I took matters into my own hands.
In the end, she did drink, and I chewed on my bottom lip to distract myself from the imagery that inspired. I didn’t even bother reminding myself that she was my employee.
“My turn?” Josey asked, looking to Ophelia. When the musician confirmed, Josey blew out a large breath and said, “Let me see. Um. How about, never have I ever lived alone.”
Broderick, Ophelia, and I took a drink while Josey smiled and then laughed at each of us in turn.
“Never have I ever played rugby.” Broderick looked at me as he said it.
Of course I drank. I also rolled my eyes. Ophelia and Josey laughed, but then surprisingly, Josey also took a drink.
“You have?” I asked as I watched her bring the cocktail to her lips.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Eilish and I were big fans growing up. We used to play with some other girls at school.”
“Who’s Eilish?” Ophelia asked.
“She’s a friend of mine, and of Will’s.” Josey’s gaze moved over the musician and she suddenly sat up straighter. “In fact, you know, you kind of look like her. She’s gorgeous, like you. And you have the same hair color and build, same skin color, too. But she cut her hair earlier this year into a super cute bob.”
“Will,” Broderick cut in, giving me a pointed look. “Your turn.”
I considered what to say, wanting to use the opportunity to learn more about Josey but without revealing too much of myself.
But desire to know her won out, and I blurted stupidly, “I’ve never been in love.” Which was a lie.
Josey gave me a soft smile, as though to say, One day you’ll meet your true love, don’t worry!
But she didn’t drink. Broderick drank. Ophelia—her eyes on Broderick—also drank. But Josey didn’t.
Maybe it was the alcohol finally taking effect, but for some reason, the cold weight in my stomach disappeared, replaced with a new and spreading warmth. I felt myself relax for real this time, aided by tequila.
Maybe this evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Okay”—Ophelia lowered her eyes to her lap—“my turn. Never have I ever had romantic feelings for someone I work for.”
My eyes cut to Josey, and this time my heart stuttered. Time seemed to stand still. Would she take a drink?
She smiled, her bright eyes swinging to mine, they shone like she and I were sharing a private joke.
My chest tightened.
But then Broderick—who had just taken a drink—asked, “You’ve never had feelings for a boss, Josey?”
I licked my lips as I stared at hers, willing her to bring the glass in her hand to her mouth.
Instead, Josey wrinkled her nose at Broderick and lifted her drink in my direction. “Other than W
ill, and my internship at the vet clinic, the only people I’ve ever worked for ended up firing me. Honestly, they were all a bunch of stuffy arseholes. So I think it’s safe to say, never have I ever had romantic feelings for anyone I’ve worked for. And look, Will didn’t drink either.”
With that, she leaned across the table and clinked her glass against mine, the sound signaling a bizarre vertigo-like sensation, as though my stomach had abruptly fallen to the floor.
As she righted herself, I glanced at my glass, swirling the golden liquid in a slow circle and reflected that my chest was now full of hot coals. Or at least it felt that way.
I didn’t have any right to feel this way.
In desperation, I tried to remind myself again: Josey is your employee. It didn’t help. That ship had sailed, the line was blurred, I was adrift.
What I was feeling for her was lust, plain lust. Albeit powerful lust.
That’s it.
That’s all.
I’d get over it.
Or, I wouldn’t.
Just . . . don’t do anything you’ll regret.
Eleven
@JoseyInHeels: Dates are weird. It’s like an interview for possible sex/ long-term companionship/ lifelong marriage where you both get intoxicated and talk about your hobbies.
JOSEY
“So, Ophelia, what part of Dublin are you from?” I asked.
After the whole “never have I ever had romantic feelings for a boss” debacle, conversation dried up a little. Yes, I lied. But in my defense, it was a wee little lie. My plan to treat him like a girlfriend was actually working!
And if I drank, Will would discover I was struggling with some confusing feelings for him. Since I’d already regaled him with stories of my unfortunate employment history over dinner one evening, he knew none of my bosses were the fanciable kind.
“I’m a Northsider,” she replied, with a smile. “I’m guessing from your accent you’re from the Southside?”
I held a hand up. “Guilty as charged. I’m afraid we’re cursed to be mortal enemies.”
She chuckled. “Yes, the age-old rivalry.”
“What’s all this?” Broderick, my date, asked. He was absolutely gorgeous, all suave and cool with a real edgy dress sense. And he’d been smiling at me a lot since we sat down. Maybe I’d chase my hearts and flowers feelings for Will away with this sexy piece of ass.
