Bad Boys Do by Victoria Dahl Page B

him.
    “Jesus.” Now Jamie was the one muttering. As much as he loved Tessa, she was driving him crazy with her Twitter mischief. She was in charge of social networking for the brewery. Unfortunately, Jamie knew nothing about the internet beyond Google and email. Even more unfortunately, Tessa used Twitter under Jamie’s name, and she enjoyed putting him in awkward positions. Two weeks ago, she’d organized a “Where’s Jamie?” campaign, wherein customers took a picture with him whenever they spotted him. That had been fine at the brewery, though it had slowed down his service. It had been less comfortable when he’d been at the grocery store or out for a bike ride.
    He’d tried to go with the flow, but now he was feeling paranoid. He stuck his head in back. “Chester!” he called to the part-time bartender. “Can you check Twitter on your phone? When you’re finished with the washer, see what Tessa is up to tonight.”
    “Got it!” Chester called.
    Jamie hurried back to ready the front room before the post-workday rush. Sure, Chester had already prepped, but no one else had quite the standards that Jamie did. He started with the tables so they’d be ready for the customers. He wiped down the tabletops, the chair seats and backs, and even the menus. He swept the whole room, then moved to the bar itself to get it ready.
    “Hey,” Chester finally popped in to say. “Tessa offered half-price pints from five to six for anyone who tells you a joke. Doesn’t have to be funny.”
    Jamie smiled as he polished the bar to a shine. He could handle a few jokes. Or so he thought. By six o’clock, his throat hurt from laughing. It also hurt from groaning in horror. He hadn’t thought so many bad jokes existed in the world, much less that he could hear them all in one hour. But he had to give it to Tessa, it had been a pretty great hour. He blazed through the whole evening in a good mood until he finally started shutting down at 8:45. At nine o’clock, he saw the last customer out with a friendly wave, locked the door and immediately pulled out his phone to call Olivia.
    “Hello, Ms. Bishop.”
    “Jamie?” She sounded sleepy. And soft.
    “I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” He glanced at the clock in confusion. Did people go to sleep at nine?
    “No, not yet. I’m reading in bed.”
    “I was hoping you might come over for a game of pool.”
    “Right now?” She laughed as if he were being outrageous.
    “Maybe?”
    “I’m already in bed in my pajamas!”
    “Oh, yeah?” He dropped into a chair and propped his feet on a table. “What kind of pajamas?” She laughed again as if he were joking. Fine. Jamie decided to imagine her in a little silk button-down shirt and her black glasses. Hot.
    “How was your night?” she asked.
    “Well, you made me late.”
    “You made yourself late.”
    “No,” he corrected, “that hand up my shirt was definitely yours.” Jamie decided right then and there that he’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. He especially liked the crack in her voice when she got embarrassed.
    “I’m sorry. I’m not normally so forward. Especially not in the parking lot of a coffee place.”
    “You were overcome,” he said. “It happens to all of us. I promise not to report you to the dean.”
    “Stop!” Her laughter was getting sleepier.
    “What are you reading?” he asked, trying to keep her on the phone. She named a book he’d never heard of. Something that sounded dire and difficult. “My mom used to read a lot. She didn’t really pass that love on to me,” he admitted.
    “Used to? She passed away?”
    “She did. A long time ago.” Jamie didn’t like to talk about it. He really didn’t like to talk about. So he kept his mouth shut and made it clear that he had nothing more to say. Olivia didn’t take the hint.
    “How long ago?”
    “Thirteen years.”
    “Oh, my God. You were just a teenager.”
    “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and tried to tell himself to be