Chapter Eleven

A shiver went down my spine. I knew that voice. It had given me two orgasms today. 

My head whipped in his direction. There he was, wearing a Guardian’s baseball t-shirt and baseball cap with faded jeans. I almost didn’t recognize Mr. Craft so dressed down. He was always in a button up with fancy dress slacks and shiny shoes. I’d never seen him sporting a pair of Nikes.

“Ms. Neely,” he greeted, resituating his baseball cap.

“Mr. Craft,” I mimicked, still a bit dumbfounded why he was here, standing next to me in a bar. He never came out with us, and by how he was sitting at the end of the bar, I assumed he didn’t want anything to do with the rest of his employees. 

The bartender set a drink in front of me, and Craft gave him a nod. He left before I could get a wad of cash from my pocket. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

“I don’t have a tab open