Bad Boys Do (Hqn)

by Victoria Dahl

  They were still scrambling for more bartending coverage as Jamie would be spending a lot more time behind the scenes for a while, so the next thing he did was pull out his list of fill-in bartenders and the file of applicants he’d never brought in. Most of them were probably out of the job search by now, but you never knew.

  “Anthony,” he said when the first guy answered the phone. “It’s Jamie Donovan. I know it’s been a few months since you filled in, but I wondered if you were looking for any work this month.”

  A soft knock on the door distracted him from writing down the days Anthony could work. Jamie looked up to see Eric leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed. Jamie held up one finger. “Sorry, Anthony, did you say Friday night, too? Great. Why don’t you come in Thursday and Friday from four to close? I’ll see you then.”

  He hung up and raised his eyebrows at Eric. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I can hear you working in here and it’s distracting.”

  “Oh. The door’s closed. Do you—?”

  “I’m just kidding, man.” Eric dropped into the chair and leaned back as if he were settling in.

  “Are you gonna watch me like a movie or something?”

  “Maybe. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to see what you do next.”

  Jamie finally smiled. “The cliffhanger of the season?”

  “Yeah.” Eric’s mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “I’m glad you’re back. No one wants to be alone with me sixty hours a week. Not even me. I think my arm is bruised from Tessa punching me in the same spot a thousand times.”

  “That bad, were you?”

  “I was pretty fucking grumpy.”

  “Yeah?” Jamie asked. “Just because you missed me?”

  Now Eric really smiled. “Something like that. And Tessa didn’t let me forget for one second that it was my fault.”

  “I’m pretty clear on what that’s like.”

  Eric nodded and reached idly for the catalog of restaurant supplies on the corner of Jamie’s desk. He paged through, his eyes sweeping over the marked pages.

  Jamie took a deep breath and braced himself for suggestions, critiques, helpful pointers about what he was doing wrong. That was fine. He could handle it.

  When Eric set the catalog down, he cleared his throat and met Jamie’s gaze. “You’re doing a good job,” he said, his mouth stiff around the strange words. “Thanks.”

  “I’m a little worried you two won’t need me anymore.”

  Jamie laughed, but Eric wasn’t laughing.

  His eyes tightened. “I don’t really have any sort of gift, you know. I don’t bring any specific skills. It’s all just hard work.”

  “That’s a skill in itself,” Jamie answered.

  “I suppose. But what I’m trying to say is…you can do this. All of it. You’ve got that same special thing Dad had. You put people at ease. You make them smile. And if you add in working your ass off, you’ve got it all.”

  “That’s not true, man. I can do the front room stuff, sure. But I can’t do what Tessa does with numbers and schedules. And I could never do what you do, day in and day out.”

  “Sure you could.”

  He seemed serious, but Jamie couldn’t figure out what the hell was weighing on him. “Eric, the big picture means nothing to me. I can’t see it. You’re the only one here who can do that. And all my hard work is done on things I enjoy. You can’t convince me that you enjoy dealing with those beer show guys all the time. And I know you hate managing the bottling and shipping. So spare me the pity party.”

  That seemed to snap Eric out of it. He managed another smile and slapped his hand down on Jamie’s desk. “All right. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you. And Dad would be, too. Not just today, either. I should’ve said it before.”

  Jamie didn’t like the heat rushing to his face, so he just muttered a foul word and ordered Eric out of his office. “I’ve got work to do. God knows you’d better not take a chance of interrupting my rhythm.”

  “Good point.” Eric was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back. “Um, listen. I may have screwed something up.”

  “You?” Jamie scoffed.

  “When Olivia Bishop came to see me, she said she was with the college. You’d said you were taking a class, and…”

  “Don’t worry, man. She was my teacher, but it was all on the up-and-up.” Jamie winked, still a little thrilled with the idea. Or a lot.

  “Right. But I didn’t realize… I wasn’t under the impression that you were dating her. But you were?”

  “We saw each other for a little while, yes.”

  Eric ducked his head and let out a long breath.

  “What did you do? Come on to her?” Jamie smiled at the idea. When Eric swallowed so hard Jamie could hear it, his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  “She came in here to tell me I should give you a chance. I was defensive. I said I’d already given you plenty of chances. When she pressed me, I threw your last mistake in her face.”

  “Which one was that?”

  Eric met his gaze. “Monica Kendall.”

  It felt like all the blood drained from Jamie’s body in an instant. His heart beat, but there was nothing for it to grasp on to. “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth.”

  Shit. His mind spun like a tornado. Olivia must think… “Shit,” he breathed. “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t say anything. But I could see she was upset. That was when I realized… Christ, Jamie. I’m sorry. Even if you hadn’t been dating her, I had no right to say that.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Jamie said, but he didn’t even feel angry. He didn’t feel anything except panic. He’d made it very clear to Olivia that he hadn’t been with another woman in a long time. And he’d meant it. Nobody understood. But now that she knew he’d lied, she must think the worst. That he’d been screwing with her. Playing with her feelings. She must think he was exactly like her ex-husband, just as she’d suspected.

  Jamie scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “I’m sorry,” Eric said again. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

  “It’s all right. I need to try to—” He looked around at all the work on his desk. He couldn’t leave now. And hell, he had no idea where she might be anyway. But it had been six days. Six days of cursing him and hating him and telling herself that all men were cut from the same evil cloth. Jesus.

  He shifted his hand and found himself looking at the pile of applications. “It’s okay, Eric. I’ll talk to her tonight.”

  “Good. I hope I didn’t screw anything up for you.”

  “No, it’s fine.” What the hell had there been to screw up, anyway?

  Jamie picked up the phone and got back to work, but his stomach burned with dread.

  HER COFFEE STEAMED into the thin air, the wisps trailing slowly up until the breeze caught them and swirled them into the sky. At this altitude, it was cold in the shade of the balcony, even in the middle of summer, and Olivia had wrapped herself in a blanket so she could enjoy the morning view.

  It had been a foolish trip, maybe. Certainly, she should be saving her money instead of spending it. But she’d needed to get away. Just away. From everyone and everything.

  After she’d left the brewery, Victor had called. When she hadn’t answered, he’d come to her house, and she’d been forced to hunker down in her chair and listen to him ring the doorbell for five minutes. Jamie would’ve come soon, too. And she’d realized that it was all too much.

  Olivia had packed a small bag, and after class she’d set off in her car. She’d taken the back roads to Winter Park, the long, windy, narrow roads that added an extra hour to her drive. Once there, she’d found a little studio room right on the ski slopes that went for next to nothing in the summer. It was quiet here and nearly deserted, and she’d done nothing but sit. Sit and drink coffee. Sit and eat lunch. Sit and watch movies at night.

  It was what she should have
done when she’d left Victor. She should have sat and turned her thoughts inward. But there’d been so much to do. All the horrible tedious work of a divorce. The sorting out of possessions, the search for a new place to live, the panic of bank accounts and insurance and retirement plans. But what she’d really needed to do was think.

  “Better late than never,” she sighed, propping her feet up on the balcony railing.

  She had to go back to her real life today, and that would be fine. She hadn’t suffered a change of heart about anything. She was glad she’d left Victor. She was glad she’d had those days with Jamie. And she couldn’t wait to start her real work. The work she’d always wanted to do.

  So, these days of quiet hadn’t changed anything, but they had been so worth it. She felt… My God, she felt like a grown-up, and how ironic was that?

  Smiling, she finished her coffee and then went to pack her bag for the drive home. When the phone rang, she knew who it was. Her cell phone was off as it had been since she’d driven away from her apartment, and the only person who had the hotel number was Gwen.

  “Good morning, Gwen,” she said when she answered.

  “You sound chipper. Are you going to find your way back home today?”

  “Yes, but only because I have class tomorrow. What have you been up to?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask. Because I totally made out with Paul last night. It was awesome!”

  Olivia laughed. “I thought you made out with Paul last week.”

  “No, we kissed last week. Granted, it was for a long time, but this was waaaay more than that. Like, making out on the couch until half our clothes were off. Oh, my God, I feel like a teenager again, with the notable exception that I actually had an orgasm.”

  “You naughty little witch,” Olivia said, echoing exactly what Gwen had said to her a few weeks ago.

  “Hell, yes,” Gwen growled. “I plan on being even naughtier tonight when I let him have his way with me.”

  “Or vice versa.”

  “Semantics,” Gwen insisted. “However you say it, I am finally going to get laid.”

  Olivia’s cheeks already hurt from smiling too hard. “I’m so glad you two hit it off. Do you really like him? Not just physically?”

  “He’s just…a regular guy. He’s a real person.”

  “I think most of the faculty are actual people, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t read their email.”

  “And you do?” Olivia asked.

  “Ugh. Some of them make me sort it for them. Some of them even make me print it out. I know way too much. Speaking of…”

  Uh-oh. Back to the real world. “What?”

  “There’s a rumor going around. I’m only going to tell you because I don’t want you to hear it from someone else. But it might not be true.”

  “Just tell me,” Olivia said, bracing herself for the worst. Her mind was already turning, figuring out what she’d do if she lost her job or—

  “People are saying Victor’s girlfriend is pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Olivia frowned. “Is that gossip-worthy? That a man knocked up his girlfriend?”

  Gwen was quiet for a minute. “My God, you already knew.”

  “Yes,” Olivia admitted. “I did.”

  “So it’s true?”

  Olivia sighed. “Why is everyone talking about it?”

  “Well, the rumor came from the dean’s office, as far as I can tell. There’s maybe some question about when he started seeing her.”

  “Ah.” Here it was. Exactly what Victor had feared. He wouldn’t be fired for it. He was tenured and Allison was a grown woman, not some starry-eyed undergrad. But it would hurt his reputation and his ever-important campaign for department chair.

  “I wanted to tell you so it wouldn’t be a blow. Especially after our talk about having children. I’m so sorry, Olivia. This must be really hard to take.”

  Olivia took the phone out to the balcony and leaned against the railing. The sun slanted past the roof now, and it felt like golden fire on her arms. “I was shocked, but that’s it. I’ve been thinking about this. Poking at my feelings a little. And I’m so glad I didn’t have kids with him. So thankful. And…I’m not even sure I wanted to. I think it was just one more thing to hold against him. One more thing to call unfair. I’d given up a lot and it was easy to say I gave that up, too.”

  “Screw him,” Gwen muttered. “He deserves to be blamed.”

  “He does. But I own a lot of it, too. And I’m doing great, aren’t I?”

  “Damn right you are.”

  “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, she 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?”

  “Yes.”