Claimed By my Boss (Wilder Brothers #2)

Chapter One

Marin

I’ve never been one for country life. Sure, I love a picturesque mountain scene with tall pines, jagged-craggily peaks, and clear blue lakes, who doesn’t, but if you were to ask me where I’d prefer to plunk down and make a life, I’d tell you every single time without any uncertainty… the city.

Any city, really.

Well, not any city.

I really hate the desert, but overall, I’d tell you that I belong in the concrete jungle amidst the hustle and bustle of tall, towering office buildings, art museums, fine dining, and dreams coming to life.

Which is why I doubt anyone who knows me would ever think to look for me here, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

“You got a second?” My boss, Archer, steps behind the bar and leans against the back counter where the mason jars are stacked.

He’s a massive man with broad shoulders, a thick neck, a long salt and pepper beard, and dark ink covering nearly every inch of him, minus his face where his perfect blue eyes sit.

I don’t usually notice men this… wild looking.

I prefer the clean-shaven, suit and tie look.

The guys who wear fancy watches and carry expensive leather bags.

There’s something about that vibe that signifies success and power.

I’ve always been drawn to it. Heck, the very first time I felt a twinge between my legs was when I saw James Pattinson in a suit and tie in some CIA movie.

That fantasy is a very, very far cry from the man I’m staring at now.

Archer is bigger, rougher, and I’d wager a bet he doesn’t even own a suit, but I’ve spent the last two weeks dreaming about him, anyway.

Some nights I imagine him growling low in my ear.

Other nights, I think about him ordering me down onto my knees while he barks out commands that sound a lot like ‘put that pretty little mouth on my cock.’

Call me a mess, ‘cause I know I’m a mess!

“Yeah.” I swallow hard and stare up at him, trying not to sound as horny as I feel. It’s not working. My voice cracks as I say, “What’s up?”

“I need you to work late tonight. My brother was supposed to help out with a party, but he got tied up.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he talks, speaking matter-of-factly, almost as though it’s a command.

Why do I want him to give me commands?

My pussy clenches instinctively. God, what’s wrong with me? I barely know this guy. He could be a secret serial killer, an axe murderer, or a magician who thinks pulling colorful flags out of his sleeves is a turn-on.

I’m clearly losing my mind. Then again, who wouldn’t have in my position? I’ve spent the last year trying to break away from an asshole ex who treated his shoes better than he treated me. Of course, I’m feeling attracted to the tiniest bit of attention any man gives me.

It’ll pass.

My boss waves his big hand in front of my face, as though he’s trying to get my attention. “Earth to Marin.” His voice is deep and raspy, sending another shock between my legs, but I ignore it, shake my head, and blink a few times.

Still no words, though.

“Tonight?” he repeats. “I need you to stay tonight. Tell me that works for you.”

I wet my lips and nod slowly. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

Could my voice get higher pitched? Could I sound any more excited to stay late? Who the hell sounds excited to stay late? I should’ve mulled it over, acted like I had a life, a date, plans.

Lord, why do I insist on embarrassing myself?

“Super.” He turns back and grabs the shortest mason jar from beneath the counter and pours himself a shot of whiskey. “It’s a weird party, so… be prepared to laugh.”

I narrow my brows and wrap my finger around a strand of my hair. “Weird how?”

“The local book club rented the space out to have some kind of sex toy party.” He shrugs and chugs back the liquor before setting the jar on the mahogany counter with a clink. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.”

I wonder what I look like right now. Is my face as red as it feels? Can he see my heart thumping in my throat? Can he smell the arousal soaking my panties like the inexperienced little weirdo I am?

“No,” I fake a smile, and my voice goes up yet another octave, “I won’t be uncomfortable. I love sex toy parties. I used to go to them all the time back in the city.”

Why did I say that? I haven’t been to one sex toy party. I haven’t even had sex.

“Really?” His voice deepens as his gaze scans down over my shape slowly. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”

“What does that mean?” My brows stitch together as the bell above the door rings and the first customers of the day wander in, bringing a slow filter of sunlight with them.

“It means you’re young. How have you found time to go to multiple sex toy parties?”

My eyes widen as I straighten my back and puff out my chest in an attempt to look older. “I’ve lived a very cultured life, if you must know. The city is full of interesting things. We have the Museum of Sex. Did you know that?”

He bites back a smirk and shakes his head.

Oh God, I probably sound like a child. Why am I talking about the Museum of Sex? I went once by accident, because I swear, I thought the sign said ‘museum of snacks.’ I was ready for popcorn and chocolate samples. Instead, I got an education on things that still make me blush.

“No,” his graveled voice blends with the country singer playing over the speakers, “I didn’t know that. What’s a sex museum?”

“It’s, ugh…” I swallow hard as my face heats. Why did I mention the freaking sex museum? “It’s this place where you go and you learn about sex throughout history.”

His brows raise, and he gives me this wide-eyed nod that I’m not sure how to take. “Sounds interesting. What was the weirdest thing you learned?”

“It wasn’t what I learned. It was what I saw.”

What am I even saying? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I didn’t want to talk about this to begin with. This is weird. This would be weird to talk about with anyone, let alone the boss I’ve been wishing would bend me over.

“Okay,” he grins and brushes his big hand down over his beard, “I’ll bite. What did you see?”

“Oh.” I glance down at the worn pine floors, trying to muster the courage to speak.

“A robot. A sex robot. They called it a desire machine.” I draw my eyes up again slowly.

“I guess you like… put your fantasies into its little robot thing, and bam!” My cheeks blaze with heat.

“Anyway, the woods around here are nice, but there’s an energy in the city that makes me feel alive.

It’s like… a buzz.” I shrug. “I probably sound stupid.”

“No,” he shakes his head and takes another shot of his drink, “I get it. I feel that way about the mountains. There’s freedom up here that I don’t feel anywhere else. Gotta ask, though, why are you up here if you miss home so much? You in some kind of trouble?”

I stare at him a beat too long. “What?” I force a panicked laugh. “No! I’m not in trouble. Why would I be in trouble?” Yup, this totally sounds believable. “The city was too expensive. I told you that during the interview, remember?”

A slow, subtle smirk sits like a phantom on his face as he nods one solid nod. “I remember.”

“What?” I tilt my head to the side. “You’re thinking something. I can see it.”

“No.” He grins, and tugs at his beard as he says, “None of my business why you left the city you claim to love so much. I’d just bet my last dollar it wasn’t because rent was too expensive.”

“That’s not true! The city is too expensive for me to afford on my own.”

“On your own.” His eyes widen and somehow get brighter, as though he’s found the answer he’s been looking for. “There it is. You were seeing someone.”

I glance toward the people looking for a spot to sit. “I better help these customers.”

“Yeah,” he holds up his calloused palms as though he’s showing his cards, “my bad. Your life is none of my business. Thanks for helping tonight. When you’re done serving these two, come find me. We can discuss the details.”

I nod, and he heads back toward his office as an older woman and a woman my age sit at the bar and glance toward the drink menu to the side of the counter.

This is my first bartending job, and I still get a little nervous when folks walk in.

Last week, this lady asked for a really weird drink I had no clue how to make.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman with light silver hair calls. “Could you tell us the difference between the blackberry and the blackberry pie whiskey?”

I grab two shot glasses from under the counter and pour a sip of each. “The blackberry has an earthy taste while the blackberry pie is more vanilla-based.”

The women take their shots quick and dirty, then look toward each other and laugh.

“Woo!” The older of the two shakes her head and pushes her glass back toward me. “Dear, I think I’ll go with a Coke. Do you have Coke here?”

I nod and grin before glancing toward the younger girl with long red hair and the lightest blue eyes.

“Coke for me too,” she says, still swallowing, “and a water.”

“It’s her twenty-first birthday. She’s playing hooky from college to spend time with her dear great auntie.” The silver-haired woman grins as I slide her a Coke.

“Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and say my name before thinking it through. “I’m Marin.”

“Marin! That’s a lovely name,” the woman says. “I’m Meg Robinson, and this is my niece, Rosie.”

“Happy Birthday, Rosie!” I smile and grab a cupcake from the fridge we keep for folks celebrating special occasions. “The owner at the bakery next door drops a few off for us every morning. They’re to die for.”

Rosie smiles. “Aww… that’s sweet of you. Thanks! I love Josie’s bakery. These chocolate strawberry cupcakes are amazing! So are the bear claws. Have you had one?”

I shake my head, thinking about how little money I have for anything. Last night, I snuck olives from behind the bar for dinner before sleeping in my car. “Not yet, but I’ll put them on my list.”