Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“Thanks for telling me. You’re a good friend. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“Be careful,” Gwen admonished.

“You, too. Condoms are your friend.” She hung up on Gwen’s hysterical giggles and glanced at her purse. Her cell phone was there, probably full to bursting with messages. She didn’t know what the hell had happened with Victor, but she didn’t want to find out yet. His problems could wait. She had a drive home to enjoy.

Somehow she managed to slip back into town with no one the wiser. Her peace lasted as she unpacked and showered and washed clothes. But she still hadn’t turned on her phone. And soon enough, she found herself standing in front of her kitchen table, staring down at the dark screen.

“You suck,” she told the phone, but she picked it up and hit the power button. It finally blinked to life with its ridiculous message. “Twenty-two missed calls,” she muttered. “Good God.” Fifteen of them were from Victor. He’d really gone off the deep end, poor guy. She only had four messages, though. And three of those were from Jamie.

Her heart lurched at the thought of hearing his voice again. She missed his late-night phone calls, and she wanted to know if anything good had come of her underhandedness. And…and sadly, she just wanted to hear his voice.

Disgusted with her own stupid heart, she steeled herself against the thrill and started the first message. Her whole body tightened at his voice. “Olivia,” he said. Just her name hanging in the air. She heard him sigh and had to stop herself from answering in kind. “I saw the portfolio. I don’t know what to say. Just call me, okay?”

Another call from Jamie asking her to get in touch. Then another. “I’m worried about you. Hope everything’s okay.”

She saved it, hating herself as she did it.

The last message had been left on her phone late last night. “Did you call the dean?” Victor demanded. “Did you tell him about Allison? Jesus, I never thought you’d really do this, Olivia. This is it now. It’s over for me. I guess you don’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore. I won’t have the fucking time.”

Well, that was mysterious, but she wasn’t even curious. Their lives were no longer intertwined. Heck, they weren’t even walking on parallel paths. She’d veered far off and every step took her farther away from him.

Olivia deleted his message and blocked his number. She blocked his home number, as well. She wished him luck in his new life, but she couldn’t involve herself anymore.

After opening all her windows to an evening breeze, Olivia poured herself a glass of wine and turned on her laptop. The email she was looking for was right there, amazingly, unburied by junk mail. As if it were a sign.

Bracing herself for disappointment, Olivia clicked on the email from the graphic designer. There was a large file attached. It had to be the logo she’d commissioned two weeks before. Olivia crossed her fingers and opened the file. Still, it was hard to see the image with her eyes clenched shut, so she forced her eyes open just a crack, and then she gasped.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed. “Oh, my God, it’s perfect.”

Good Table Consulting stood out in a clean, friendly font. The letters were orange against the pale yellow oval of the background. She’d chosen to forgo any images except for a modern, stylized white plate behind the G of Good Table.

Her eyes filled with tears, and Olivia pressed a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying. This was real now. It was real and it was hers.

She immediately typed out a gushing thank-you to the designer, then opened her website development application. She knew exactly how she wanted the website to look. Clean, modern and friendly, just like her logo. She’d already written down headers and content ideas. Tonight, sh

e was going to build herself a website.

Olivia sipped her wine, but she didn’t need it. She was dizzy with triumph and confidence and joy. She whipped through design details and layouts, her mind buzzing. Buzzing so loudly that it took her a moment to register the sound of someone knocking on her door. She frowned at being interrupted, then her eyes flew wide at who it might be.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, her stupid heart pattered. She hadn’t called him back, and he wanted to talk. It could be him. Or it could be anyone. Victor or a neighbor or just the UPS guy. But she smoothed down her hair and licked her lips and hoped to God she didn’t look cross-eyed from staring at the computer for so long.

Not that it mattered. He meant nothing to her. As little as she’d meant to him.

She looked through the peephole and her heart flipped before beating even faster. It was him. She braced herself for the sight of him and opened the door. And just like that, all her triumph was gone and all she felt was yearning.

“You’re okay,” he said immediately.

“Yes.” Her eyes disobeyed her, dipping down to take him in. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt her. He’d also inspired the greatest pleasures she’d ever felt, and her nerves seemed to ripple at the sight of him, like rings of warm water spreading through her.

“We need to talk,” Jamie said. He didn’t seem to have any trouble holding her gaze. Apparently he wasn’t quite as afflicted as she was.

Olivia opened her door wide. “Come in.”

He stopped a few feet into her living room, seeming to have no idea where he should go.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. I just…” Hands in his pockets, he swept a lost look over the room. “Were you out of town?”