Bad Boys Do. Victoria Dahl
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And he made her laugh. They sat on a shady patio. Olivia had a skinny latte. Jamie had an iced caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream.
When he walked her to her car, she felt as nervous as a teenage girl. With good reason, because when she opened her car door, she was caught between the door frame and the car, and Jamie leaned close.
“Can I call you?” he asked.
“Jamie …” She couldn’t keep this up, but she couldn’t resist forever.
“Just say yes,” he whispered. And then he kissed her, and her mouth was too busy to say anything at all.
HE’D LEFT HER WITH A KISS. One damn kiss and nothing more. But even that made him smile. He’d never tell Olivia this in a million years, but dating her definitely felt more … grown-up than he was used to. Less like a hookup and more like time with an interesting woman. Not that he wouldn’t hook the hell out of her given the opportunity. That one kiss had left him hard as a rock. Granted, it had been a long, deep, wet kiss.
“Hell, yeah,” he murmured as he pulled into the brewery parking lot. He walked around the whole building before going in, to be sure all the doors and windows were secure and the sidewalks were clean, but when he walked through the front door, he was still lost in thoughts of Olivia.
“Where the hell have you been?” his brother, Eric, asked before Jamie’s foot was even across the threshold.
All the pleasant warmth suffusing Jamie’s muscles snapped to ice. “I told you I’d be in later on Thursdays from now on.”
“You said you’d be in at four. It’s almost 4:30.”
Jamie felt his blood swell. Heat rose to his skin. He wanted to snap back. He wanted to yell that he’d put in sixty-two hours last week and he’d fucking come in thirty minutes late if he felt like it. There wasn’t even one customer in the front room, for God’s sake.
But he couldn’t say that, because the last thing he wanted was for Eric to start asking questions about where Jamie had been, or why he’d suddenly decided to take Tuesdays off instead of Mondays, or why he needed to come in late on Thursdays. So Jamie used all his strength to hold those words in and simply muttered, “Sorry.”
Eric looked surprised. Maybe he’d been angling for a fight. But he gave in gracefully and said, “All right. Sorry I snapped at you.”
Was it really that easy? They fought like cats and dogs most of the time, which was why Jamie was keeping his ideas secret until he had them fully fleshed out. If he didn’t have everything in perfect order, Eric would shoot the plan down before the first words left Jamie’s mouth. In fact, he’d already shot this particular plan down once, but Jamie wasn’t giving up.
“Anything going on today?” he asked Eric.
“Wallace finally got in that Mexican chocolate he was waiting for. He’s going to try another round of the spicy chocolate stout.”
“Great.”
“He wants to call it Devil’s Cock.”
Jamie’s eyebrows flew up. “Devil’s Cock?”
“Yeah. With a rooster on the label.”
“And what did you say to that?”
Eric smirked. “I told him I’d think about it. After that Santa Fe show, I decided we could dare a bit more edginess. There’s not a lot of subtlety out there right now.”
“Well, consider me surprised. I think it could be a fantastic label. Maybe you could have it mocked up before you decide.”
“Huh. That’s actually a good idea. Maybe I will.”
Jamie ground his teeth at the shock in Eric’s voice.
“And the new menus are in.” Eric handed him a pristine laminated copy of the midsummer bar menu.
“Wow, this is a nice layout.”
“The new marketing company,” Eric said. “I guess it’s working out.”
“Where’s Tessa?” Jamie asked. His sister was a much more relaxed presence and Jamie would rather get his daily update from her, but she was off today, it seemed. That explained Eric’s mood. Tessa simultaneously calmed her brothers down and cheered them up.
“So.” Jamie checked the time. “Are you clocking out soon?”
Apparently, he was less than subtle. Eric actually threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll leave you alone. Chester prepped the bar. It’s all ready for you. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Tessa said something about a special.”
Jamie groaned as Eric brushed past him. “Wait, what kind of special?”
His brother’s laughter was the only answer. It faded as he walked into the back and the doors swung closed behind him.
“Jesus.” Now Jamie was the one muttering. As much as he loved Tessa, she was driving him crazy with her Twitter mischief. She was in charge of social networking for the brewery. Unfortunately, Jamie knew nothing about the internet beyond Google and email. Even more unfortunately, Tessa used Twitter under Jamie’s name, and she enjoyed putting him in awkward positions. Two weeks ago, she’d organized a “Where’s Jamie?” campaign, wherein customers took a picture with him whenever they spotted him. That had been fine at the brewery, though it had slowed down his service. It had been less comfortable when he’d been at the grocery store or out for a bike ride.
He’d tried to go with the flow, but now he was feeling paranoid. He stuck his head in back. “Chester!”
he called to the part-time bartender. “Can you check Twitter on your phone? When you’re finished with the washer, see what Tessa is up to tonight.”
“Got it!” Chester called.
Jamie hurried back to ready the front room before the post-workday rush. Sure, Chester had already prepped, but no one else had quite the standards that Jamie did. He started with the tables so they’d be ready for the customers. He wiped down the tabletops, the chair seats and backs, and even the menus. He swept the whole room, then moved to the bar itself to get it ready.
“Hey,” Chester finally popped in to say. “Tessa offered half-price pints from five to six for anyone who tells you a joke. Doesn’t have to be funny.”
Jamie smiled as he polished the bar to a shine. He could handle a few jokes. Or so he thought. By six o’clock, his throat hurt from laughing. It also hurt from groaning in horror. He hadn’t thought so many bad jokes existed in the world, much less that he could hear them all in one hour. But he had to give it to Tessa, it had been a pretty great hour. He blazed through the whole evening in a good mood until he finally started shutting down at 8:45. At nine o’clock, he saw the last customer out with a friendly wave, locked the door and immediately pulled out his phone to call Olivia.
“Hello, Ms. Bishop.”
“Jamie?” She sounded sleepy. And soft.
“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” He glanced at the clock in confusion. Did people go to sleep at nine?
“No, not yet. I’m reading in bed.”
“I was hoping you might come over for a game of pool.”
“Right now?” She laughed as if he were being outrageous.
“Maybe?”
“I’m already in bed in my pajamas!”
“Oh, yeah?” He dropped into a chair and propped his feet on a table. “What kind of pajamas?” She laughed again as if he were joking. Fine. Jamie decided to imagine her in a little silk button-down shirt and her black glasses. Hot.
“How was your night?” she asked.
“Well,