Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“The fuck you will,” Jamie growled.

Eric growled right back. “You obviously need some help.”

“I don’t need help! When have I ever asked you to pick up the slack?”

“Boulder Business Expo a couple months ago? Sound familiar? Wait, maybe it doesn’t it, because you never showed up. You were too busy filling in for a bartender who took off for Mexico for spring break!”

I’m not going to hit him, Jamie chanted in his head. I’m not going to punch him in his smug mouth. “Look,” he ground out, trying to keep his tone reasonable. “Hiring servers and bartenders isn’t like hiring an office person. The wages suck, and it’s not the kind of job you take when you’re ready to settle down. So, yeah, there’s going to be some turnover, but Chester is a good—”

“This isn’t up for discussion.”

Jamie’s patience snapped, and he slammed his hand into a table. “You don’t get to decide that, damn it. We’re all equal partners here.”

“Yeah? You really think you’re pulling your weight around here, Jamie?”

He’d said it. Eric had finally said exactly what he’d always thought. That unspoken sneer that lurked behind his words. Jamie heard a strange rushing sound and realized it was his blood surging through his veins. His pulse beat in his temples. Everything in his body tightened until he thought he’d either explode or simply snap in half.

Eric seemed to recognize that he’d gone too far. He dropped his head, and his shoulders rose on a breath. “Look—”

“I pull my fucking weight,” Jamie ground out past clenched teeth. “I do my job, and it’s a job you couldn’t do in a million years.”

“You—”

Jamie shoved away the arm that Eric reached toward him. “I’d love to see you try it, brother. I’d love to see you be charming and interesting and approachable. I’d love to see you make small talk with grumpy old men and washed-up sports stars who talk about themselves for two hours and women who think it’s okay to touch your ass because you’re nice to them.”

“Listen—”

“I’d like to see you clean up a spilled pitcher of beer with a goddamn smile even though you’re exhausted because you’ve already been on your feet for ten hours and you know you’ve got another hour to go, because if everything’s not perfect in the morning your own brother will call you an irresponsible, idiot asshole who can’t do anything right.”

Eric’s face paled as if Jamie had punched him right in the gut.

Good.

“Guys?” Tessa whispered. She stood in the doorway, her purse clutched in one hand, the doors to the kitchen still swinging behind her.

Jamie reached for the vacuum again.

“Jamie,” Eric said. His hand touched Jamie’s arm and it felt like an electric shock that connected directly to all his rage.

He shoved Eric. Hard. “Don’t touch me.”

“Hey!” Eric shouted, catching himself on a table.

“Jamie,” Tessa said, rushing forward. “Stop it.”

“Stop what? You’re the one who told me to stand up to him.”

“Not like this!”

“I was in here minding my own business. Doing my job. And he came in looking for a fight. Didn’t you, Eric?”

“I just wanted to talk about—”

“You didn’t want to talk about shit. You wanted to tell me what I was doing wrong. You wanted to let me know what a fuckup I am, just like always.”

“All right,” Eric snapped. “That’s enough. I’m sorry if I stepped over the line, but you have to admit that you contribute to the problem. You were late last week. Your brand-new bartender has already called in. And you keep saying you want to take on more responsibility, but you never do anything about it.”

“That’s not true.” Jamie felt his nails cutting into his palms, and considering how short his nails were, that wasn’t a good sign. He tried to relax his grip, if only because Tessa’s eyes were welling with tears. “It doesn’t matter what I do. You’re not ever going to give me a chance, are you?”