Big Bad Boss: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Annette Fields

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Logan’s gaze found me anyway. I felt it gliding over my back like warm kisses as I wiped down counters and closed out the register.

  “Yeah, just ready to go home and take a cold shower, you know?” I glanced over at him and smirked but the joke fell flat. His eyes pierced through me so sharply, I may as well have been naked.

  “That was really brave of you,” he said softly.

  “Well if you hadn’t been there to end it, it would have been really stupid of me.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He reached out and touched my arm comfortingly, a friendly gesture. Then his hands fell to wrap around mine.

  “Aubrey, you’re shaking.”

  He brought my hands to his chest level and rubbed them gently, circling the backs of my palms with his thumbs. I didn’t even realize my hands shook until they were wrapped in his firm, strong grip. His eyes still burned into mine but somehow not as intimidating as before.

  “I guess I’m a little more shaken up that I thought,” I admitted.

  “Doesn’t make you any less brave.”

  I don’t know if I stepped in closer or if he pulled me in, but in the next moment, I suddenly found myself cradled against his chest. His arms encircled my shoulders and upper back as I let out an exhausted, shuddering sigh. It felt like I’d been holding that breath for hours.

  He felt like a stone carving and a warm blanket at the same time. His hard, rigid muscles pressed against my cheek but he radiated a sense of warmth and security. His heart beat a comforting rhythm while his hands rubbed across my back soothingly.

  Just the thought of kissing him made me want to explode like a ball of confetti but I didn’t dare look up at his face. I couldn’t chance that kind of rejection which would surely come.

  It must have been my imagination that I felt a soft kiss on top of my head before he said, “Let’s get you home, Aubrey.”

  CHAPTER 8

  AUBREY

  Logan insisted on driving me home that night, which I thought was especially gentlemanly.

  I lived a short distance from the brewery so I often walked while listening to podcasts or music. But after the incident with Dale, I was grateful to have him there.

  Standing up to that asshole seemed to zap all my strength. I didn't want to walk home as it got dark. I didn't want to refuse Logan’s offer. All I wanted was to melt into him when his arms went around me.

  But I couldn't let myself get my stupid hopes up over a boss comforting his distraught employee.

  “Why don’t you drive to work?” Logan asked as he started up his car. I had no idea if it was a Rolls Royce or Bentley or what any of those luxury cars were. All I knew was that it was expensive. I cringed at the thought of messing up his leather interior with my beer and sweat-stained work clothes, but he didn’t bat an eye when I sank into his luxurious passenger seat.

  “I don’t have a car right now,” I answered, feeling like an alien on a foreign planet. “It’s not a big deal, I don’t live far. I enjoy walking anyway.”

  “It’s not exactly safe. Especially at night,” he said, glancing at me out of his peripheral vision.

  “I’m pretty sure there are bigger dangers than walking four blocks to work,” I replied, not holding back the sass in my voice. “And anyway, I don’t make a habit of walking around at night.”

  He was sweet to be concerned but seriously? I was an adult woman with a full-time job and my own place. I could handle myself.

  “Why don’t you have a car? Don’t you go anywhere else besides work?”

  I squirmed in my seat, disliking feeling under such a microscope with his questions. Was he so out of touch with how normal, non-rich people lived?

  “My last one died so I’m saving up for a new one,” I said, wondering if he ever had to budget money for anything in his life. “But I’m in no rush. I like not paying for gas, repairs, and insurance. Not having a car is a small sacrifice.”

  “You didn’t answer my other question.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you go anywhere besides work? Friends houses, restaurants, grocery stores?”

  “I don’t appreciate all the personal questions,” I snapped. “I’m grateful for you helping me out today, but you’re my boss. Not my dad.”

  “Relax, Aubrey,” he said with infuriating calm. “I’m just trying to get to know my employees. It’s not like I asked what your favorite positions are.”

  What the hell?

  My brain felt like it was doing gymnastics trying to figure out if he was really being inappropriate before or now. Was I just extra defensive because of attracted I was to him? And did his questions even really bother me?

  We turned onto my street before I could think of a response.

  "My apartment's just up here." I pointed out the dark tinted window.

  A wave of embarrassment rolled over me at the thought of Logan seeing my shabby little apartment, but I quickly fought it away. I loved my job and lived comfortably within my means. That was all that mattered.

  "Thanks again for the ride," I told him as we pulled up. "And for earlier today."

  "Don't mention it." He said it flippantly as he kept his eyes forward, the same way he said it when Bella hug-tackled him the other night.

  I nodded, acknowledging he was now in tough-boss mode and not comforting-boss mode like earlier and tried not to take it personally.

  "Well, goodnight." I pushed open the passenger door.

  "Hold on, Aubrey."

  "Yeah?"

  He looked at me directly for the first time since we got in the car and my heart jumped with the urge to lean over and kiss him.

  "I'm going to be out of town for the rest of the week. But I'll be back Monday for our tasting." His mouth lifted in a smirk. "Don't start any fights while I'm gone, tough gal."

  I forced out a laugh, covering my embarrassment for when I started to lean for a kiss.

  "I'll try not to while my savior is away."

  Fuck, that was so cringey. Why did I say that?

  His smirk grew wider as he turned his eyes softly back to the road in front of him.

  "Goodnight, Aubrey."

  "Night. Have a good trip."

  I stepped out of the car and watched from my porch as his headlights grew smaller in the distance. Questions plagued my mind that I had no business asking.

  Mainly where was he going, and why? And who would he be with?

  I pictured him at some party for ultra-rich people in Ibiza or somewhere, with a flaming drink in his hand and gorgeous, bikini-clad women on each arm. Jealousy gripped my heart like a fist even though I had no right to feel it.

  ***

  The rest of the week dragged by at work. I even found myself wishing the weekend could end so I could see Logan at work again.

  You're not the first girl in the world to have a massive, inappropriate crush on her hot boss. You need to get over this.

  But in my bed at night I tried to take myself back to when his arms wrapped around me, caressing me gently while I came down from the shock of Dale nearly assaulting me.

  Objectively, there was nothing sexual or inappropriate about the way he held me. Marty could have hugged me the same way and I wouldn't think twice.

  But something about Logan touched me deeply. He saw right through my tough act and knew that confrontation with Dale shook me before I even did. It was like he knew me better than I knew myself, and we just met the day before.

  Despite being together for three years, I never felt like Andy truly knew me inside and out. He did know how to hurt me though, as evident by the picture messages he continued to send.

  By the time Monday rolled around I was grateful to be back at work, too busy to look at my phone.

  On the flip side, I felt painfully self-conscious of my frizzy ponytail, unflattering rubber work boots, and the never ending sweat pouring off me. For once, I wished I worked a job where I had access to air condit
ioning and an excuse to look cute. If I even attempted some light, natural makeup as a brewer, it would melt off my face the moment I fired up the brewing system.

  Rather than focused and in my element that day, I felt distracted and scatterbrained. I found myself casually looking around for Logan, like a high school girl looking for her quarterback crush at the football game.

  Pathetic.

  I hated feeling vulnerable and off my groove. After Andy dumped me I worked so hard to build my self-worth from within and not seek validation from a man’s attention.

  While I was proud of becoming self-sufficient, strong and confident, deep down I yearned for old-fashioned romance. Yes, the beer girl in her work pants and rubber boots wanted a man to sweep her off her feet, whisper all the hot dirty things in her ear, and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. A real specimen of masculinity who knew exactly what I needed and would take control.

  But those men chased after women like Bella, not me.

  I thought I would find that kind of love and passion with Andy but he made his preference clear and it wasn't me.

  I never did see Logan until the end of the work day, and of course, he caught me when I least expected him.

  He came suddenly around the corner while I was at my locker, in the middle of pulling off my work boots and putting on my sneakers.

  "Hey, Aubrey."

  "Wah!"

  Startled, I lost my balance on the one foot I was standing on. My hands were occupied with yanking my boot off my other foot so I had no choice but to lean and crash against the locker doors like a tower of Jenga blocks.

  I. Was. Mortified.

  Logan made no attempt to hide his amusement while I wanted to sink into the floor.

  "Oh fuck! I'm sorry." He covered his mouth but it did nothing to hide his laughter. "I didn't mean to startle you so bad."

  He looked rugged and more casual than the last time I saw him. Four days worth of dark red stubble coated his jaw, which added a sexy, gritty texture to his handsome, chiseled face. He wore faded jeans and a pale blue T-shirt that matched his eyes perfectly and hugged every muscle. I've never wanted to be an article of clothing so badly.

  "S'okay. I just wasn't expecting you," I muttered, wishing I could disappear.

  "Here, lean on me," he offered.

  He stepped closer and placed one of my hands on his shoulder. The silky firmness of his deltoid muscle flexed underneath my grip and I never wanted to let go.

  As I awkwardly finished removing my boot, it wasn't lost on me that every time I touched him so far was due to him supporting my awkward, clumsy ass in some way.

  Could I be any more unsexy if I tried? Not likely.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, my eyes fixated on the slots in the locker doors. No way could I look him in the eyes after this blunder.

  “No problem. We still on for our tasting tonight?”

  Oh shit. Now I have to look at him.

  “Uh, yeah. Totally!” At the last second, my brain decided to attempt a flirty, sultry smile. But for all I knew, I was grinning at him like a monkey after a banana.

  “Great. See you then.”

  I watched as his broad back meandered through the brewery, gazing up at the metallic tanks and casually chatting with my coworkers. They reacted to him like he was a normal person. Why couldn’t I?

  CHAPTER 9

  LOGAN

  It's always tough to leave home.

  I went back for a long weekend as I often do and usually dread having to come back for work at the end. Every time I left, it felt like a stone was grinding in the pit of my stomach. I wondered if it would be the last time I saw my family, if Charlie would strike and this time succeed because I couldn’t get there in time to help them.

  It amazed me how well my parents moved on from that ordeal. But I couldn’t move on. Not when the man behind it walked away without even a slap on the wrist, and he did it because of me. It gnawed at me every moment of every day.

  But this time, coming back was a little easier because I had Aubrey to look forward to.

  Aside from her being my exact physical type, something else drew me to her. At first I just thought she had an attitude, which was sexy in its own right, but seeing her stand up to that old asshole at the bar put her on a whole new level for me.

  She was fearless to a fault. No threat got past her and lived to tell the tale.

  And yet paradoxically, that same attitude proved to me that she was afraid, but of all the wrong things. She was afraid of opening up and letting her feelings and desires be known. This woman told some old pervert to fuck off but wouldn’t give straight answers to my questions in trying to learn more about her. Her heart was guarded like a fortress and I had to know why.

  I knew she wouldn't be worth just fucking, she'd be worth getting to know as a person, and that unnerved me.

  I knew and respected many intelligent women in the business world, but they usually weren’t the ones I wanted to hear screaming my name as I gave them mind-melting orgasms. That was where my conundrum lied.

  Thankfully the Oak Barrel tasting room was closed on Mondays so we'd have the place to ourselves, which was exactly what I wanted.

  I poured myself a light beer so I wouldn't ruin my palate during our tasting, sat at the bar and answered emails on my phone while I waited for Aubrey.

  She came in through the side door a few minutes later, wearing a fresh set of clothes. Slim-leg jeans hugged her delicious curves from ankle to hip and another brewery tee in a flattering, feminine cut completed the look on top.

  "You didn't have to get dressed up for me," I joked.

  Her ears and cheeks flushed red as she busied herself with pouring tasters. I loved how her skin betrayed her true feelings behind her tough-girl act.

  "This may come as a shock to you but I don't always want to smell like a brewery."

  She turned around toward me, holding a wooden paddle with five holes and a small tasting glass of beer carefully sitting in each hole. "We'll start with these."

  With grace and practice, she placed the paddle on the bartop and set the first taster in front of me.

  "Aren't you tasting?" I asked.

  "I've already had them all," she said with a sassy hand on her hip.

  I smirked as I held the glass up to my nose. "Yeah but it's no fun if I'm the only one drinking."

  Her mouth twitched as if she were trying not to smile and she turned to grab another set of glasses. "I guess I haven't had my after-shift beer yet."

  "Atta girl." I watched as she poured her own tasting flight. Even if she did scare as easily as a spooked rabbit, she moved with a certain elegance and poise when she worked. She truly was in her element.

  "So what are we having?" I asked as she set her own paddle next to mine.

  "This is a Berliner Weisse," she said in a perfect German accent. "It's a German wheat beer that's light, crisp, and a bit tart."

  "Prost." I said the German word for cheers in a much more American accent as I clinked my glass against hers.

  "Wow. I wasn't expecting that." The beer had a cider-like quality with how crisp and refreshing it was. "Is there any fruit in this?"

  Aubrey shook her head. "No fruit. It's all from the grain and yeast."

  "That's really interesting," I said, draining the rest of my small glass. “I didn’t know beer could have flavors like this.”

  She beamed with pride and happiness. "I like getting that reaction from people. The creative possibilities with beer styles and flavors are really endless."

  "Well I can't wait for the rest of this beer journey," I said, taking the next glass out of the paddle.

  She gave me a skeptical look. "You really think this stuff is interesting?"

  "Absolutely. That's why I bought the place. I've always been fascinated by the different processes to make alcohol, I just never got a chance to learn about it."

  Had I not been so obsessed with numbers and money in my college days, I might have majored in chemis
try or biology. For a moment I considered going back to school, just to learn about something interesting.

  "It's just that most people's eyes glaze over when I start talking about yeasts and fermentation temperatures. It's nice to have someone's full attention for once."

  Aubrey blushed and looked away. She tried so hard to act platonic and uninterested and it was damn adorable.

  My cock throbbed for her in my pants and I knew I'd have to step my game up tonight. She was being too irresistible. Back home I thought of her naked body lying next to mine under the stars every night, a perfect goddess of love and sex out in nature. I'd love nothing more.

  "Moving on," she said after clearing her throat nervously. "This next one is a bit heavier-bodied but has a similar flavor profile. It's a barrel-aged raspberry sour ale. This one does have real fruit added to it."

  The liquid in my glass looked more like a diluted red wine than a beer. I took a careful sip and nearly gasped at the complex flavors dancing on my tongue.

  The tartness was subtle and pleasant, as was the raspberry flavor. What tied it all together was a rich mouthfeel that was similar to wine, with a slight roasty bitterness to balance the fruit flavors.

  "That is amazing," I breathed, tilting the glass toward Aubrey. "You made this?"

  She nodded, beaming with pride again. "I had to beg Marty to do a barrel aging program. I mean really, how can you name your brewery Oak Barrel and not have barrel-aged beers?”

  “Tell me more about this,” I urged her, leaning forward with interest. Her voice became high and musical when she talked excitedly and listening to it was like foreplay to me.

  “After the brewing process is done, you can add the beer to wine barrels to age them and absorb those flavors. It takes ordinary beers to a whole new level. I sourced our wine barrels myself from a cellar in Napa."

  "From now on any barrels you want, you will get," I said, slapping my hand emphatically on the bar. "This is absolutely beautiful." I smiled as I finished the glass. "Just like its creator."