Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“Okay,” he responded, warily accepting the hand Victor offered. As usual, the guy’s fingers tried to crush Jamie’s. Not likely.

“I’ll take a pint of your best.”

“It’s all the best,” Jamie said flatly.

“All right, then…” He picked up a menu and looked it over as if he were reading an important treatise. Jamie tried not to let his violent irritation show. He’d never been jealous of this bastard, but now something dark and hot rose up in Jamie’s chest. Had he come here just to force Jamie to wait on him?

“I’ll try the brown ale,” Victor finally said. Jamie grabbed a pint glass without responding.

“How’s Olivia been?”

Jamie shot him a glare. “If you want to know how Olivia is, I suggest you ask her.”

“Sure, sure. I just wanted to know if you’re treating her right.”

He handed Victor the glass, wiped his hands and went to serve another customer. What a smarmy creep that guy was. A powerless, pitiful creep. Which was exactly why Jamie shouldn’t be bothered by him.

But Jamie wasn’t in Olivia’s bed anymore—he wasn’t in her life anymore—and suddenly this bastard seemed like the enemy. Not competition, exactly. It was just that…Jamie was no longer the winner. He was in the same boat of losers with this creep. Rejected. No longer wanted. A pitiful club of two.

When was the damn band going to start playing again? The music would at least drown out Victor trying to make conversation.

“Why do you look so grumpy tonight, Jamie?” A girl looped her arm around his waist and pulled him to a halt.

Jamie gave her a grin. “I’m not grumpy, darlin’.”

“Then why haven’t you been smiling at me?”

He recognized her now. A pretty brunette who came in a couple of times a month with her friend. They were too young and giggly for his taste, but harmless otherwise. “I’m smiling at you now, aren’t I?”

“You sure are.”

“You need another beer?” he asked, then he swept an eye over the table, noticing that the pitcher was nearly empty and there were only two of them. “Or a cab?”

She laughed uproariously at that, her hand slipping lower on his back. “A friend’s picking us up,” she said, beaming up at him. “But it’s awfully sweet of you to care.”

Sweet. Sure. Also, he didn’t want to lose his license. But he winked at her before he slid away from the friendly hand. He stopped at another table, but Tessa shooed him away with a look of outrage. His responsibilities lay at the bar, and he had no choice but to return there.

Victor’s glass was empty, and he pushed it toward Jamie. “Another,” he said with a superior smile.

“Yes, sir,” Jamie muttered under his breath. He managed not to look at the guy once as he drew his beer and handed it over. Just to be clear on the matter, he printed out Victor’s bill and slid that over, as well.

Despite a good five minutes spent avoiding the guy as he chatted with other customers, in the end, Jamie had no choice but to get close to grab his credit card. Victor had set the bill and card on his side of the bar, and Jamie had to reach for it.

Before Jamie could grab the card, Victor’s hand closed over his wrist. “You know she’s just using you, right?” Victor said, his voice still dripping with friendliness.

Jamie tensed and glanced toward the band again. The drummer had stood up, but the rest of them were taking their sweet time with the last drops of beer.

“She’s trying to teach me a lesson. Make me jealous. You’re just a prop.”

Jamie clenched his teeth together and jerked free of the hold. Yes, he knew he’d been used. That had been the whole point of it. Fun for all.

“I’m going to get her back,” Victor said. “And you’ll just be an embarrassing memory. Something she wishes no one knew about.”

“Back off,” Jamie growled. He stalked to the computer to close out the bill, noting with a snarl that Victor had given him a fifty-cent tip.

He practically threw the final receipt at Victor, but he didn’t miss the man’s next words. “She needs someone who’ll take care of her, not the other way around.”

Jamie’s face burned with anger, but he walked away. Distracting himself with other customers wouldn’t help this time, so he walked straight for the end of the bar and the double doors that led to the back. The band finally rattled a few instruments, as if they could be any help now. Next time their free pitcher would be slightly less generous.