with hot water, preventing a slew of gunky bacteria growth to grow. I hadn’t seen fruit flies or small critter droppings, which were unfortunately commonplace in bars. The bar tops were freshly wiped down and the floor was also clean behind the bar; the bottles were stacked and organized.
Even the tables out on the floor had been cleaned, as were the ashtrays. So, while the bar might need a renovation, someone definitely cared about it, and I knew that wasn’t Mom.
My gaze flicked to the printed-out spreadsheet for last month—the spreadsheet stapled to a gazillion receipts—and I scanned the lines. Like the dozen spreadsheets before it that I’d found, all the way up to March of last year, everything was tracked—monthly bills, like electricity and other utilities, income coming in, food and beverage costs and breakdowns, and, most surprising, payroll.
Freaking payroll .
The reason why Mom always had friends working for her who were interested only in free drinks was that she could never make payroll. The idea of Mona’s making enough money to pay its employees on a regular basis had been laughable. Not funny laughable, but maniacal, slightly crazed laughable.
But Mona’s had been making payroll for about a year now and had employee names I didn’t recognize with the exception of Jax and Clyde. There was even some dude who worked in the kitchen on weekend nights, helping Clyde out.
Mona’s was turning a profit for the last four months. Nothing major, or to get overly excited about, but a profit was a profit.
Leaning back in the chair, I slowly shook my head. How was this possible? If Mona’s was making money, why was she stealing—
“What in the hell are you doing in here?”
Emitting a low shriek, I jumped in the chair as my chin jerked out. All the air whooshed out of my lungs. Jax stood in the doorway, and he must’ve been part ghost and part ninja, because I hadn’t even heard him approach. The floors creaked about every other step when I’d walked down the hall to the office.
It had only been a handful of hours since I’d last seen Jax, and it wasn’t like I’d forgotten how hot he was in those hours, but geez, all I could do was stare at him for a moment.
Freshly showered, his hair was slightly darker as it curled against his forehead. The black shirt he wore appeared tighter than the one he wore last night, which I’m pretty sure the female population was thankful for.
But he didn’t look happy at all to see me.
Jaw set and lips pressed together, he glared at me as I stupidly gazed back at him like a fawn. “What are you doing in here, Calla?”
At the sound of my name, I snapped out of it. Placing the spreadsheet and receipts on the desk, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, considering this bar is my mom’s, I have every right to be in the office.”
“That’s some dumb rationale considering I’ve been at this bar for about two years and last night was the first time I’d seen your sweet ass.”
Heat flashed across my cheeks as I tilted my chair to the left. “Can you stop referring to my ass as sweet?”
His eyes deepened to dark chocolate. “Would you prefer I refer to it as hot?”
“No.”
“Sexy?”
I inhaled through my nose. “No.”
“How about heart shaped and thick?”
My hands curled into fists. “How about not at all?”
His lips twitched and then the humor fled from him as his gaze dipped to the stack of papers. He stalked over to the desk. “You were going through the files?”
I shrugged forced casualness. “Wanted to see how the bar was doing.”
“I’m sure that’s really not your business.”
What the hell? “I’m pretty sure that it is.”
He planted one hand on the desk, right on top of the spreadsheets. “Do tell.”
Swiveling the chair, I angled the right side of my body toward his. “Well, considering that this bar is the only thing my mom will leave me one day, I have every right to look at those papers.”
Something
Even the tables out on the floor had been cleaned, as were the ashtrays. So, while the bar might need a renovation, someone definitely cared about it, and I knew that wasn’t Mom.
My gaze flicked to the printed-out spreadsheet for last month—the spreadsheet stapled to a gazillion receipts—and I scanned the lines. Like the dozen spreadsheets before it that I’d found, all the way up to March of last year, everything was tracked—monthly bills, like electricity and other utilities, income coming in, food and beverage costs and breakdowns, and, most surprising, payroll.
Freaking payroll .
The reason why Mom always had friends working for her who were interested only in free drinks was that she could never make payroll. The idea of Mona’s making enough money to pay its employees on a regular basis had been laughable. Not funny laughable, but maniacal, slightly crazed laughable.
But Mona’s had been making payroll for about a year now and had employee names I didn’t recognize with the exception of Jax and Clyde. There was even some dude who worked in the kitchen on weekend nights, helping Clyde out.
Mona’s was turning a profit for the last four months. Nothing major, or to get overly excited about, but a profit was a profit.
Leaning back in the chair, I slowly shook my head. How was this possible? If Mona’s was making money, why was she stealing—
“What in the hell are you doing in here?”
Emitting a low shriek, I jumped in the chair as my chin jerked out. All the air whooshed out of my lungs. Jax stood in the doorway, and he must’ve been part ghost and part ninja, because I hadn’t even heard him approach. The floors creaked about every other step when I’d walked down the hall to the office.
It had only been a handful of hours since I’d last seen Jax, and it wasn’t like I’d forgotten how hot he was in those hours, but geez, all I could do was stare at him for a moment.
Freshly showered, his hair was slightly darker as it curled against his forehead. The black shirt he wore appeared tighter than the one he wore last night, which I’m pretty sure the female population was thankful for.
But he didn’t look happy at all to see me.
Jaw set and lips pressed together, he glared at me as I stupidly gazed back at him like a fawn. “What are you doing in here, Calla?”
At the sound of my name, I snapped out of it. Placing the spreadsheet and receipts on the desk, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, considering this bar is my mom’s, I have every right to be in the office.”
“That’s some dumb rationale considering I’ve been at this bar for about two years and last night was the first time I’d seen your sweet ass.”
Heat flashed across my cheeks as I tilted my chair to the left. “Can you stop referring to my ass as sweet?”
His eyes deepened to dark chocolate. “Would you prefer I refer to it as hot?”
“No.”
“Sexy?”
I inhaled through my nose. “No.”
“How about heart shaped and thick?”
My hands curled into fists. “How about not at all?”
His lips twitched and then the humor fled from him as his gaze dipped to the stack of papers. He stalked over to the desk. “You were going through the files?”
I shrugged forced casualness. “Wanted to see how the bar was doing.”
“I’m sure that’s really not your business.”
What the hell? “I’m pretty sure that it is.”
He planted one hand on the desk, right on top of the spreadsheets. “Do tell.”
Swiveling the chair, I angled the right side of my body toward his. “Well, considering that this bar is the only thing my mom will leave me one day, I have every right to look at those papers.”
Something
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