She takes a drink, her red lips wrapping around the straw. “I get it. This is your workplace. We should’ve gone somewhere else. Helena yelled at Silas when he came here, but I told her it was cool.” She shrugs. “It’s a fun place.” She taps my shoulder. “But get out of work mode and into fun mode.”
“I’m working on it.” I grind my teeth while Archer acts like he hasn’t noticed my signals to save me.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go to dinner?” Becca asks.
I frown. “I don’t have a babysitter tomorrow.”
She caresses my arm. “You can bring Noah. I’d love to meet him.”
“I’d love to meet him.”
I hate when chicks say that.
Noah isn’t meeting anyone until we’ve had at least five dates. I refuse to bring new women in and out of his life.
Maggie, one of our waitresses, stops at the table. “Cohen, Archer said he needs you.”
About damn time.
I slide off my stool and shoot Becca an apologetic glance. “I’ll be back.”
“Mmkay.” She grabs her drink and takes a long draw, shimmying her shoulders from side to side.
I shove Archer when I make it behind the bar. “Took you long enough, asshole.”
“What?” He smirks. “You looked like you were having a blast.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Not to mention, Silas outbid you. He paid me fifty to wait longer to bail you out.”
“You sneaky bastards.”
He laughs. “I would’ve done it for thirty. Now, since I bailed you out, why don’t you bring another keg up here, will ya? Might as well make yourself useful.”
17
Jamie
I FaceTime Cohen’s phone a few times a week and talk to Noah.
It’s become the highlight of my day.
I get home, shower, throw my hair into a messy bun, and hit Cohen’s name.
My face shows on my screen as it rings a few times before it’s answered.
I nearly drop the phone, and my mouth goes slack when the woman comes into view.
A drop-dead gorgeous woman.
“Hello?” she answers.
A deep tinge of insecurity wracks through me as I notice how different we are. Her hair is down in loose waves, her eyeliner is winged with a precision I could never master, and her low-cut top shows more cleavage than any of my push-up bras can manage.
“Is, uh”—I play with my messy bun, an attempt to make it look not so sloppy—“Cohen there?”
“Why?” She puckers her lips. “Who are you?”
“A friend.” I’m gripping the phone so tight that I’m waiting for it to crumble in my hand.
“What kind of friend?”
“Is Noah around? I called to talk to him.”
“Why do you want to talk to his son?” Something hits her, and she lowers her voice, scooting in closer to the phone’s camera. “Oh, my God. Are you the baby mama?”
“What? No. Can you just tell them Jamie called, please?”
“Not if Jamie doesn’t tell me who she is.”
“Who’s that?” Another girl comes into view before a dirty look forms on her face, and a snarl leaves her.
Oh, this is the mean one. Definitely.
“Why are you calling Cohen?” the mean one asks.
“Whoa, whoa.” Silas is the next person I see.
It’s like they’re passing me around in a game.
“Oh, hey, Jamie,” he says with a smile.
“Um, who is Jamie?” Mean Barbie snaps.
“There it is,” Cohen says in the distance. “I thought I’d lost my phone.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Wait. Becca, what are you doing on my phone?”
“Um …” Becca bites into her lower lip. “It rang, and I didn’t want you to miss a call.”
“It’s Jamie!” Silas informs him.
I still and hover my finger over the End button.
“Oh shit. Hey, Jamie,” Cohen says, jerking his phone out of Becca’s hand.
“I’m getting another call,” I say before hanging up.
It’s a slap in the face.
Another reminder.
I cannot fall for Cohen.
He’ll never be mine.
18
Cohen
“Where’s Noah?” Maliki asks, standing next to me while I season the burgers on the grill in front of me.
We’re in my backyard, having a barbeque. It’s something I try to do a few times a month when the weather is nice. I invite everyone. We eat a shit-ton of food, play cornhole, and hang out. Our lives can be shitstorms sometimes, so it’s nice to catch up.
There’s nothing better than enjoying a beer with your friends and playing some yard games.
That sounds way more honky-tonk than it is, I swear.
“He’s with Jamie,” I say, flipping a burger.
Jamie and I have returned to our avoidance game since the Becca incident. I tried calling her on my way home to apologize, but she hit the fuck you button. She hasn’t FaceTimed us since, and it’s sucked. We started looking forward to her calls. She’d tell us hospital stories or embarrassing memories of me when I was a dumbass teenager, and Noah would burst into laughter. Sometimes, she’d even read him bedtime stories.
Shame hits me whenever I think about what happened.
I took that away from him.
“Oh, he’s with Jamie, huh?” Maliki says, covering his smirk with the neck of his beer when he takes a drink.
“Don’t give me that look.”
He situates his hat, drawing it further down his forehead, hiding his eyes. “What look?”
“How about we talk about your little girlfriend instead?” I grab my beer and suck it down.
“Nice subject change, jackass.”
I shrug. “I like her, and you seem happy.”
“We’re friends. She needed somewhere to stay. The end.”
“It’ll be a good story you tell your kids one day about how you met their mom because you were kicking her out of your bar.”
“Funny,” he grumbles, handing me a plate, and I start loading it with the cooked burgers.
Maliki brought his roommate, Sierra, with him. He and Sierra have been playing a cat-and-mouse game for years. It started when she kept sneaking into his bar, underage, and he kept kicking her out. When she turned twenty-one, they became friends, some shit happened in a relationship she was in, and now, she’s living with him. The way they look at each other and how his arm was wrapped around her shoulders in ownership as they strolled through my backyard scream that they’re more than friends.
Just as I’m about to tell him I’m offended that he’s lying to me, Georgia yells, “Hey, Jamie!”
Even though I’ve been expecting her to drop off Noah, adrenaline speeds through my chest at the sound of her name. I turn around at the same time Noah slams into me, nearly knocking me over. My brow arches as he waves something in the air.
“Jamie bought me an iPod!” he announces.
An iPod?
The hell?
Noah doesn’t need a damn iPod at his age.
Not wanting to rain on his parade, I shoot him a smile, and we head over to Jamie, who’s talking to Grace, Lola, and Sierra.
“An iPod?” I ask when I reach her. “You spoil him too much.”
Even though I know the true intentions of the iPod.
Jamie laughs; it is fake and fraudulent, and it pisses me off. “It’s for selfish reasons, so we can FaceTime.”
I frown—mine not fake. “You always FaceTime him on my phone. It’s never been a problem.”
She’s gone back to communicating through Georgia again as though we’re playing fucking telephone on the playground, which has resulted in dozens of questions from my nosy sister. I planned to bring up the FaceTime call Becca answered to Jamie today, but with all the attention on us, it isn’t the time.
It’ll have to wait until I can catch
Jamie again when she’s not avoiding me.
Her face is blank when she replies, “You’re busy sometimes.”
I wince before checking myself, deciding to go a different angle with this. Maybe I can get her to stay and corner her later, make her talk to me.
“We have plenty of food.” I sweep my arm out to gesture to the table loaded with burgers, hot dogs, chips, and every other barbeque food you can think of. “Stay.”
Hang out.
Let me explain myself.
Don’t be pissed at me.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t.” She kneels and hugs Noah. “Make sure you call me, okay?”
Noah hugs her back and salutes her. “You got it!”
She kisses the top of his head and waves good-bye to everyone, not giving me one more glance.
“She is pissed at you,” Georgia sings when Jamie is out of earshot.
“She’s not pissed at me,” I say, imitating her high-pitched voice.
“Why’s she pissed at you?” Grace asks.
“She FaceTimed Cohen to talk to Noah the other day, and some chick answered, asking Jamie twenty-one questions about who she was.” Georgia rolls her eyes and glares at me. “That’s why she bought the iPod.”
I’m well aware.
“I need to stop telling you stuff,” I mutter before shaking my head, grabbing Noah, and throwing him over my shoulder.
Noah shrills in laughter, clasping his arms around my neck, and I take off, running across the yard.
I drop him to his feet when we reach Silas and Finn, who are playing cornhole. Noah shows off his iPod to Finn while I shove Silas’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe I was dumb enough to let you set me up on that date,” I hiss to him. “Jamie hates me now.”
“Oh, so that’s my fault, huh?” he asks.
“Damn straight.”
“Maybe it is my bad, but it’s your bad for not talking to her about it. Your bad for not telling her about the hard-on you have for her.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head before playing a round of cornhole with Noah and the guys, hoping it’ll take my mind off Jamie.
19
Jamie
“Don’t forget. We’re going out for Kelsey’s birthday,” Ashley reminds me from across the table.
We’re having lunch at the deli across from the street from the hospital. It’s her lunch break, and my shift just ended. I can’t wait to go home and take a nice long bath. As much as I love work taking my mind off my issues, I need to clear my head. The call with Cohen’s date Becca has been on my mind since it happened, and I can’t seem to shake the jealousy that consumes me anytime I think about it.
Cohen isn’t mine.
He never will be.
I went to the Apple store and bought Noah an iPod to make sure an interrupted by a gorgeous girl phone call didn’t happen again.
“Dinner, right?” I ask.
Kelsey is our friend from med school, and every year, we go out for our birthdays.
“Nope. She switched it up this year, and we’re going where her boyfriend wants.” She rolls her eyes and fakes enthusiasm. “Yay!”
“Where’s she having it now?”
Ashley bites back a grin. “He likes sports.”
“Okay …”
“He likes watching sports at sports bars.”
I glare at her, knowing where she’s going with this. “A sports bar not around here, and where I don’t know the owner, correct?”
She shakes her head, her grin now in full effect.
I’ve kept her updated on all things Noah and Cohen. She even met Noah once and had dinner with us.
“Oh, darn.” I smack my knee. “I forgot I have plans.”
“You do have plans.” This time, she tries to hide her smile while biting into her straw. Doesn’t work. “Going to Twisted Fox and hanging out with yours truly are your plans.”
“I had a super-long shift today.” I fake a yawn.
“You had a super-short shift today.”
“How do you know?”
She grabs her phone, unlocks the screen, and shows it to me. “Remember when I texted you last week, asking if you had the night off, and you said this? Not to mention, you just got off work.”
I glare at our text message thread where I told her I was most definitely open tonight.
Damn texts get you caught every time.
It makes it really hard to lie in today’s day and age.
“I agreed to go to dinner, not a bar.”
“You’ve never had a problem with going to a bar before, Miss Loves Her Wine.”
“The problem isn’t going to a bar. It’s going to a bar owned by a man I have issues with.” I shoot her a so there look.
“Since when and why do you have issues with Cute-Boy Cohen?”
“A.) Quit calling him that, creep, and B.) since I called his phone and some cranky chick answered, questioning me like I was the mistress calling her husband.”
“You don’t have to talk to him then. I’m asking …” She pauses and holds up a finger, her face turning serious. “No, I’m telling you that you’re coming.”
“Fine, only because I know you’ll show up at my house and annoy me until I agree.”
“Damn straight, I will.”
“I seriously need to rethink this friendship.”
“You love me. Make sure you dress cute.”
Finn gives me a head nod when he notices me walking into Twisted Fox. “Yo, Jamie. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
Neither did I until a few hours ago.
“Hey.” I wave. “It’s my friend’s birthday, and this is where she wanted to come.”
Tell that to Cohen, so he doesn’t think I’m randomly showing up and being all stalkerish.
Ashley snags my hand, and I follow her through the packed bar, looking around while also maneuvering through the crowd. The place is nice, and even though it has a hometown-bar vibe, it’s updated, fun, and hipster-friendly. It for sure brings in plenty of business.
I’ve heard great things about Twisted Fox, and I’m happy for Cohen.
Kelsey stands on her stool, waving her hands in the air, and motions for us to come to the table where she and her boyfriend are sitting. She jumps off her stool and gives us each a hug, and I hand over her gift.
“This place is a madhouse,” Ashley says as we sit down next to each other.
“Okay, bouncer dude is hot,” Kelsey’s friend Carrie says, falling down on the stool next to Kelsey, puckering her lips and focusing her attention on me. “He seemed to know you. Is he single?”
Ashley and I groan at the same time.
Carrie isn’t my friend, and I dread when she goes out with us. She calls every damn guy we see hot. Waiters, bartenders, random guys walking down the street, women’s husbands.
I’ve witnessed her get bitch-slapped for it once.
Fun times.
It’s not that Finn isn’t attractive with his light brown hair, muscles, and cocky smile. It’s that he isn’t Cohen—tall, his face handsomely rough. Even though they both sport scruff on their face, I love how dark Cohen’s is. How well it matches his eyes.
After graduation, Kelsey took a job working for a plastic surgeon and is now dating said plastic surgeon. Carrie asked for a discount on a nose job—after calling him hot, of course.
Before I get the chance to answer her, Georgia comes skipping to our table, a bright smile aimed at me.
“Look who it is! What can I get you, babe?” she asks. “We have some amazing cocktail specials tonight, and to be honest, the one I named after myself is delish.”
I laugh, grateful she’s not making this awkward. “I’ll take a Georgia then.”
“Good choice.” She winks at me and takes the table’s orders.
Ashley and Kelsey order the Georgia too.
I hope it’s not too strong. Wine and margaritas are the drinks to my heart, and I haven’t wandered into territories of anything
stronger. The last thing I want to do is get drunk and make a fool of myself in front of Cohen again.
Georgia shoves her pencil behind her ear and through her braided hair and tells us she’ll be back in a snap. She takes the long route on her way to the bar, dodging Archer, and gives Silas her order.
“There’s Cohen,” Ashley shrieks, suggestively elbowing me.
“Who’s Cohen?” Kelsey asks.
“He’s the owner,” Ashley answers.
Ashley points at him, and that’s when I finally gain the nerve to look in his direction.
I lose my breath. He’s behind the bar and in deep conversation with Archer. He’s wearing a bright blue V-neck shirt with the bar’s logo on the right side of the chest and jeans—a bottle opener sticking out of a pocket.
The sound of a woman yelling his name steals his attention, and he walks to the end of the bar to talk to her. I can’t take my eyes off them as she leans across it, whispers something, and laughs. Cohen nods, retreats a few steps, then starts making a drink. When he hands it to her, she blows him a kiss.
“Cohen is good people,” Heath, Kelsey’s boyfriend, says.
“He’s hot,” Carrie says, licking her lips.
Just as I’m about to shove her off the stool and tell her to back off, Georgia returns with our drinks and does the job for me.
“He’s off-limits,” she says, handing the glasses and beers to us.
“Your boyfriend?” Carrie asks, raising a drawn-on brow.
“My brother.”
“What about the other bartender?” Carrie signals to Archer.
Like with the other guys, I don’t blame her attraction to him. Archer is built like a football player with broad shoulders and an expansive chest, and unlike the other guys who are clean-cut—shorter hair, light on the scruff—Archer’s hair hits the base of his shoulders, and his facial hair is on the heavier side.
Apparently, Twisted Fox doesn’t only deliver in drinks and bar food; it also always delivers in hot-as-hell eye candy. If they sold a yearly calendar, it’d have its fair share of sales.
Stirred (Twisted Fox Book 1) Page 11