Jacks: BBW Billionaire Menage Romance (Billionaire Brothers, II Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Meg Watson
think everybody should just fall at their feet.
“Oh… OK,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He cut his eyes toward the door in a gesture that was surprisingly charming and sincere. Almost as though he meant it.
I slipped the cups into a drink carrier and stuffed a handful of creamers, sugar, sugar substitutes, and stirrers in a bag, then grabbed a wax paper sheet to pick out scones.
When I turned back to him, he was staring at me, head still cocked playfully to the side as though he had never looked away.
“No number… really ?” he repeated.
“Come on, Owen, fun is fun,” I said, as much to myself as to him.
“OK, then come work for us,” he shot back.
I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows, somehow managing a decent impression of Melita, I thought.
“Owen, that will be $15.47, please.”
He pulled a clip from his tight front pocket and peeled a hundred off without looking, then laid it on the counter. I didn’t even glance at it. “You’re too good for this place.”
“The owner’s a friend,” I replied.
“But you could be doing so much more,” he insisted, dropping his voice. I felt the timbre tugging at my chest, willing me closer. If he didn’t leave soon I was going right over the counter after him.
“The owner is a really good friend,” I persisted. “I’m just helping out until this place is out of the toddler stage. Then it’s off to seek my glory.”
He gave me a raised-eyebrow look and took hold of the coffee and pastry bag.
“Glory, huh?”
“Well, as close as I can get to it. I promise to call you first when I am job-hunting.”
“Good, good,” he nodded, then looked down distractedly as his phone started buzzing in his other very tight front pocket. “I guess that will have to-- Oh hey. Looks like Lyle called a meeting for this morning. Say, do you have… Um… One of those really big coffees?” he asked. “Like for a meeting? Eight people?”
“Oh,” I said helpfully, “like the MegaChug? This?” I held up a bag-lined cardboard box with a handle and spigot. He nodded. “OK, sure,” I continued. “Just, uh… Give me a few seconds to get a new pot brewing here for you.”
“OK, sure,” he said in a faraway voice, thumbing the front of his phone. “No worries. Meeting’s in forty-five and I guess the espresso bar is out. Lyle can’t talk without coffee…”
I set a new filter in the brewer basket and pressed the red light, listening to it spring happily to life.
“Wait,” I interrupted, “you have an espresso bar… in your office?”
He looked up at me, the sudden sight of his aquamarine eyes sending my heart into a swirl of tight circles in my chest.
“Um, yes?” he answered carefully.
“But you’re here almost every day…”
He smiled and stared steadily back at me. I felt the gauges in my mind all entering the yellow-warning zone. If he didn’t leave soon…
“Well, you haven’t said yes yet,” he murmured in a low purr, dropping his chin slightly. Something snapped hard against my belly like a rubber band, twang.
Danger! Danger! Red alert! cried a helpful chorus in my head, and I swung around to grab the kit of cups and condiments that I had prepared for these sorts of sales. Melita was somehow beneath me, a puddle of soapy water around her knees from cleaning the pastry case. My heel hit the water and slid out from under me, dropping me on my ass, Charlie Chaplain style.
“Oh, shit!” Melita exclaimed.
“Oh no! Are you all right?” Owen asked, leaning over the counter, his voice tight with concern.
“I am so sorry!” Melita mouthed silently into the air. I nodded and held up one hand like, yeah, it’s OK. Please shut up.
Sitting still for a few seconds, I checked my body parts one by one for the second time in less than twelve hours. With the same witnesses and everything, I realized with a cringe. I seemed whole, even as I wished for a nice sudden loss of consciousness to drag me out of this humiliation
“Oh… OK,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He cut his eyes toward the door in a gesture that was surprisingly charming and sincere. Almost as though he meant it.
I slipped the cups into a drink carrier and stuffed a handful of creamers, sugar, sugar substitutes, and stirrers in a bag, then grabbed a wax paper sheet to pick out scones.
When I turned back to him, he was staring at me, head still cocked playfully to the side as though he had never looked away.
“No number… really ?” he repeated.
“Come on, Owen, fun is fun,” I said, as much to myself as to him.
“OK, then come work for us,” he shot back.
I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows, somehow managing a decent impression of Melita, I thought.
“Owen, that will be $15.47, please.”
He pulled a clip from his tight front pocket and peeled a hundred off without looking, then laid it on the counter. I didn’t even glance at it. “You’re too good for this place.”
“The owner’s a friend,” I replied.
“But you could be doing so much more,” he insisted, dropping his voice. I felt the timbre tugging at my chest, willing me closer. If he didn’t leave soon I was going right over the counter after him.
“The owner is a really good friend,” I persisted. “I’m just helping out until this place is out of the toddler stage. Then it’s off to seek my glory.”
He gave me a raised-eyebrow look and took hold of the coffee and pastry bag.
“Glory, huh?”
“Well, as close as I can get to it. I promise to call you first when I am job-hunting.”
“Good, good,” he nodded, then looked down distractedly as his phone started buzzing in his other very tight front pocket. “I guess that will have to-- Oh hey. Looks like Lyle called a meeting for this morning. Say, do you have… Um… One of those really big coffees?” he asked. “Like for a meeting? Eight people?”
“Oh,” I said helpfully, “like the MegaChug? This?” I held up a bag-lined cardboard box with a handle and spigot. He nodded. “OK, sure,” I continued. “Just, uh… Give me a few seconds to get a new pot brewing here for you.”
“OK, sure,” he said in a faraway voice, thumbing the front of his phone. “No worries. Meeting’s in forty-five and I guess the espresso bar is out. Lyle can’t talk without coffee…”
I set a new filter in the brewer basket and pressed the red light, listening to it spring happily to life.
“Wait,” I interrupted, “you have an espresso bar… in your office?”
He looked up at me, the sudden sight of his aquamarine eyes sending my heart into a swirl of tight circles in my chest.
“Um, yes?” he answered carefully.
“But you’re here almost every day…”
He smiled and stared steadily back at me. I felt the gauges in my mind all entering the yellow-warning zone. If he didn’t leave soon…
“Well, you haven’t said yes yet,” he murmured in a low purr, dropping his chin slightly. Something snapped hard against my belly like a rubber band, twang.
Danger! Danger! Red alert! cried a helpful chorus in my head, and I swung around to grab the kit of cups and condiments that I had prepared for these sorts of sales. Melita was somehow beneath me, a puddle of soapy water around her knees from cleaning the pastry case. My heel hit the water and slid out from under me, dropping me on my ass, Charlie Chaplain style.
“Oh, shit!” Melita exclaimed.
“Oh no! Are you all right?” Owen asked, leaning over the counter, his voice tight with concern.
“I am so sorry!” Melita mouthed silently into the air. I nodded and held up one hand like, yeah, it’s OK. Please shut up.
Sitting still for a few seconds, I checked my body parts one by one for the second time in less than twelve hours. With the same witnesses and everything, I realized with a cringe. I seemed whole, even as I wished for a nice sudden loss of consciousness to drag me out of this humiliation
Readers choose
Black Inc.
Agatha Christie
Roger Silverwood
Janelle Daniels
Dan Gutman
Tony Abbott
Irene Ferris
Michele Callahan
Viola Grace
Jessica Sorensen