Boss Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance by Black, L. (big screen ebook reader txt) 📗

Now it wasn’t just the theme or customers having fun I was thinking about. Pulling off this night would mean a dynamic announcement of the impending second location and building up hype for customers to want to visit.

Ava walked away, and I turned to Jordan to gauge his reaction. He was staring into the middle distance like the thought was totally overwhelming him as well.

“It’s a lot,” I said. He didn’t respond, and I leaned a little closer. “You okay?”

He looked at me. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear to something like this.”

I laughed. “That is easily fixable. When I was roaming around downtown, I noticed a costume shop. It might be the perfect place to find something that will work for a Gatsby night. I’d love to help you pick out your outfit if you’d like me to.”

Jordan grinned, making the butterflies swell again and ticking my heart rate up a bit. “It’s a plan.”

“Perfect,” I said.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”

15 Jordan

Being nervous was stupid, and I knew that. It wasn’t a date, it wasn’t a sign of some relationship goal being met, it wasn’t anything like that. It was simply two friends meeting up, hanging out, and enjoying each other’s company. And yet, I felt nervous anyway. Also excited. Extraordinarily excited. The more time I spent with her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. She was the only person in my life, sans maybe Luke, who got my wheels moving faster in my brain. It was like she made me smarter just by talking to her. More creative, too. The more I was around her infectious energy, the more I felt like pitching in and helping with the more creative aspects of the job.

Getting to know her was becoming one of my favorite aspects of going to work. Every time we spent any time together, I got to know a little bit more about what made her tick. What her past was like before she showed up in our little bar. Who she was when she went home and took off her waitress shoes and put on her fuzzy slippers. Of course, thinking about what she took off and what she did or did not put on afterward was a thought process that I also enjoyed having, though I felt bad about it. I actively tried to avoid it, in fact, but when I was home, alone, in the dark wasteland between awake and asleep where the nightmares often reared their head, I could think about her and her bare feet slipping into fuzzy slippers and what else she might wear. The nightmares would usually subside then.

I pulled up to the restaurant near her place that she told me to pick her up and got out. I figured she was either grabbing lunch to bring with us or had already eaten, but she was standing by the door when I got there, menu in hand. I smiled wide when we made eye contact and jogged up to her.

“Hey, are you going to order something for the road?” I asked.

“I was actually thinking we could grab lunch here before we left if you hadn’t eaten,” she said. It was casual, something simple that friends did all the time. But I couldn’t shake the significance of it. She was asking me to eat with her. All my arguments about this not being a date were slowly leaking away.

“Sure,” I said. “I am starving actually.” I found myself surprised to realize I actually was. Knowing the plan for the day, I had somehow not bothered to remember to eat. That was big for me. Years of military life had me eating at the same time every day, like clockwork. Yet, that morning I had my cup of coffee and had just plain forgotten to eat with it. My head was too far in the clouds.

“Cool,” she said, grinning and turning back to the door. I reached ahead of it and grabbed it, pulling it open for her. “Thanks.” There was a hint of a giggle in her voice, like my chivalry was silly but appreciated.

We walked in and grabbed a booth near the window. Hannah lived just off one of the main roads in Astoria, and the scenery was fun to watch. People were walking by, window-shopping and going about their day. I could see inside some of their bags as they passed, could read some of their names on the sides of the cups of coffee they clutched so desperately, too. I could learn so much about them without them ever even knowing I existed.

But I wasn’t interested in them. Not with Hannah sitting across from me in the booth, kicking her legs occasionally as she read through the menu. She made a sound as she contemplated various dishes, and I realized I hadn’t looked at my menu at all. Hopefully, it wasn’t too obvious.

I picked the first thing that sounded decent and not too heavy, and when the waiter came, we made our orders. Hannah opted for a sandwich that was as impressively named as it was described in the menu. I went with a boring salad. It was like a cliché movie date with the roles reversed.

“The Balrog?” I asked.

“From Lord of the Rings,” she said, as if that should mean anything.

“I read that in high school. Gandalf and a ring. That’s all I remember.”

“Didn’t you see the movies?”

“I was busy in boot camp by the time the first one came out, I think. I missed the rest of them, too,” I said.

“Well, you are going to have to watch them eventually. And read the books, too,” she said authoritatively. For some reason I had no problem taking orders on what to read when they came out of her mouth.

“I think I might,” I said. “Still, what’s a Balrog?”

“Giant, powerful monster. It fits with the amount of bacon on the sandwich. I’ve only been here a few times,