Ava

Only Ellie would think that blind dates that begin with shots of alcohol would be the best way to find myself a future baby-daddy. But even if I think she’s out of her mind, I’m determined to make the best of this, and that means I need to follow the rules.

Step One: show up.

Step Two: drain my shot like a good girl.

I twist my purse strap in my hand as I walk up to the bar. Time to pick my poison.

The bartender scans a paper in front of her, taps it, then grins at me. “I see you’re here for Straight Up Casual. Good for you, Ava.”

“How have you been?” I recognize her from high school—she was a year or two ahead of me, and nice enough, but I can’t remember her name. Small-town problems.

She waves a hand. “Living a dream. What can I get you?”

“Patrón?” Tequila’s always been a bit of a happy drink for me, and a little mood booster can’t hurt, given how nervous I am about my first date in . . . Well, let’s not put a number on it. I’ll just have to limit myself. Tequila is really good at making me think I should have more tequila, and the last thing I need is to get drunk tonight.

“Bold choice.” She pours a shot and hands it to me across the bar. I shoot it back fast, and she laughs. “Should I make that a double?”

I grimace. Shit, that burns. “No, one shot is more than enough for me.”

“Anything else while you wait for your date?”

My date. Oh, hell. I’m so bad at this. Maybe I should have made it a double. “How about a margarita?”

“Rocks and salt?”

I nod and watch, mute with nerves, as she shakes it up.

“Over there,” she says when she slides my drink across the bar. She points to a small round table in the back corner. There’s a small Straight Up Casual sign on it—because this wouldn’t be embarrassing enough if everyone didn’t know what I was doing here. “You’re a little early, but I’ll send your date your way when he gets here.”

“Thanks.” I start to walk away.

“Ava,” she says, and I stop. “Relax. You look fucking hot.”

“Thank you.” Whether I want them to or not, her words boost my confidence and make me walk a little taller on my way to the table.

I put down my drink and slide onto my chair, crossing my legs at the knee. I grab my phone from my purse, then think better of it and slide it back in. I don’t want to look aloof when my date arrives.

Across the bar, Mr. Mooney, the Windsor Prep principal, is walking toward my table. Shit. My gaze lands on the Straight Up Casual sign in front of me and I wilt. Great.

I take a long pull from my drink. Because now it’s necessary.

“Miss McKinley?” he says, stopping at my table. “I believe you’re my date.”

I cough on my drink and spray my boss with margarita. “Shit! I mean, shoot! I mean . . .” Standing, I grab napkins from the table and awkwardly shove them in my boss’s direction. “I’m so sorry. You took me by surprise.”

He gives me a slow, amused shake of his head as he dabs at his shirt with the napkins. I can honestly say this is the first time since I met him that I’ve felt anything but small when he directed his smile at me. “Relax, Ava. I’m surprised by this too.”

Mr. Mooney is a handsome man. He’s tall, with a runner’s build, and is always dressed impeccably. Tonight, he has on a dark blue button-up shirt that’s tucked into his jeans and is unbuttoned at the top, and his blue eyes seem softer than usual.

“Sit down, please.” He sets his beer on the table.

I stare at him dumbly. Sit? Does that mean we’re going to do this? As I was spitting margarita all over him, I assumed we’d have a little laugh and part ways. Because he’s my boss.

He waves to my chair and pulls out his own, dragging it over a bit so it’s positioned closer to mine before he sits.

I stiffen at his proximity. The music is loud in here, and this will make it easier for us to have a conversation, but he’s just a little too close to my personal bubble.

Don’t be ridiculous, Ava. Ellie’s always telling me that my bubble is bigger than most. I just need to relax.

“Ava, Ava.” He grins at me. “What are the chances?”

I exhale heavily. Given the size of Jackson Harbor, I suppose I was likely to know anyone I was set up with. Regardless, Straight Up Casual is going to get an earful from me about this. Somewhere on their form they should include your job so people don’t find themselves “matched” with their employer. And on the same note, is Mr. Mooney truly the best match they could find for me? This does not inspire confidence.

“So you’re in the dating scene too, huh?” I ask, desperate to diffuse the DEFCON-one levels of awkward I’m feeling. I reach for my margarita. The moment my fingers touch the glass, I make myself release it. I’m already feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, and if I’m officially on an accidental date with my boss, I think I’d like to keep the fuzzy edges in check.

Color rises in his cheeks, and he clears his throat. “I’m only here because my sister . . .”

I nod. “In my case, it was my best friend. A birthday present, believe it or not.”

He laughs softly. “Well, happy birthday. I hope she gets you something better next year.”

It occurs to me that maybe I’ve always been too hard on him. After all, I usually see him at work, where he’s operating under a lot of pressure, but tonight, his rough edges seem softer, his demeanor warmer—despite the fact that I just sprayed him with tequila and sweet-and-sour mix.

“Good for you,” I say. “I imagine your job has to be pretty stressful right now.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and wish I hadn’t brought it up.

“With the layoffs?”

I nod. “Yeah. Everyone’s worried, but I’m sure it’s stressful for you too.”

“Are you?” he asks. His gaze dips down to my cleavage. Why did I let Ellie talk me into this dress? “Worried about the layoffs, I mean?”

I shrug. “I’m trying to prepare for anything, but obviously it’s hard not to worry a little when the future is uncertain.”

“May I tell you something in confidence?” His gaze dips again, this time lingering.

Okay, his eyes on my tits are making me feel super slimy. “Of course.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ve been there longer than anyone else in your department.”

“Seriously?” I let out a long breath, and relief washes like a cool shower over me. “That’s good to hear.”

“We’ve gotta look out for each other, right?” He thumbs the condensation off his glass. “Two single people just trying to get by.”

There’s that vague sense of sliminess again. “Um, right.” I force a smile, lecturing myself to be kind to him. What can a smile hurt?

He scoots his chair a couple of inches closer to mine and leans in. I rest my gaze on my margarita. Looking at him when he’s this close makes this feel like the date it was supposed to be. “I can’t say I was disappointed when I realized you were my date,” he says.

I snap my gaze to his just as he puts his hand on my knee.

Holy fucking shit. Mr. Mooney is touching my bare knee. Alarm bells go off in my head. “Mr. Mooney?”

He squeezes lightly. “Call me Mark. This is a date, right?” He winks at me, and his hand inches a little higher.

I shift in my seat, trying to pull away from his touch in the most casual way possible. I don’t want to make a scene or make him uncomfortable, but his hand on my leg is definitely not okay with me.

He doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he shifts too, following me, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of my skirt. “What do you say we get out of here? Get what we both came for?”

I shake my head. “No thanks,” I whisper. I hate how weak I sound. I’m not the kind of girl who’s afraid to shut a guy down when he’s making unwanted advances, but this is my boss. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” I shoot up from my chair, and it squeaks as it flies back behind me and clatters to its side. “I think I should go.”

He stands too, and color blooms in his cheeks. “Please, wait.”

I grab my purse and hold tight, as if it’s a life preserver in this disaster of an evening.

“I’m sorry, Ava. I hope you can forgive me for reading this situation all wrong.”

Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Let’s forget this happened, okay?”

“I hope this won’t make things at work awkward. I value you as an employee.”

Just breathe, Ava. It was a big misunderstanding. “It’s fine.”

He nods, but something in his expression tells me he knows fine is my favorite lie.