Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“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, you made me late.”

“You made yourself late.”

“No,” he corrected, “that hand up my shirt was definitely yours.” Jamie decided right then and there that he’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. He especially liked the crack in her voice when she got embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally so forward. Especially not in the parking lot of a coffee place.”

“You were overcome,” he said. “It happens to all of us. I promise not to report you to the dean.”

“Stop!” Her laughter was getting sleepier.

“What are you reading?” he asked, trying to keep her on the phone. She named a book he’d never heard of. Something that sounded dire and difficult. “My mom used to read a lot. She didn’t really pass that love on to me,” he admitted.

“Used to? She passed away?”

“She did. A long time ago.” Jamie didn’t like to talk about it. He really didn’t like to talk about. So he kept his mouth shut and made it clear that he had nothing more to say. Olivia didn’t take the hint.

“How long ago?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Oh, my God. You were just a teenager.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and tried to tell himself to be glad she hadn’t asked about his dad, because then he’d have to give the whole tragic story. Leaving out the details of his own involvement.

“Were you close to her?” she asked quietly.

“I was.” They’d all been close back then. His siblings and his mom and dad. He and his brother and sister were each distinct personalities, but they’d all been loved equally. It turned out that Jamie had been the one who didn’t deserve it. Big shock.

“I’m not close to my mom,” Olivia admitted. He heard the click of a light on her end and imagined her settling more deeply into bed. “She’s cold. Exacting. And…no fun.”

He smiled at the wry irony in her voice. “You’re not cold,” he said.

“No?”

“No. You’re lying in bed in your very short pajamas, having an inappropriate conversation with one of your students, right?”

Her laughter chased his sadness away. “You don’t know anything about my pajamas.”

“Shh.”

“And there’s nothing inappropriate about this conversation.”

“There could be,” he insisted, “if you stopped trying to correct me.”

“Jamie…” She sighed. “You’re…really amazing. You know that?”