Bad Boys Do

by Victoria Dahl

  She clasped her hands together to help fight the temptation to slap him. He’d no doubt call the police and press charges for domestic violence…with, of course, an offer to drop all charges if she’d only be reasonable about a reunion. Still, it might be worth it, just to feel the hot sting of his skin under her palm. But it wouldn’t be worth losing her job.

  “Seriously, Olivia, don’t do this. You’ll lose everything. Your mother is frantic.”

  “I thought you wanted me to lose everything.”

  “I told you I wasn’t the one who called. I don’t want you ruined, which is exactly what you’ll be if you chase after this dream.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “Do you know nothing about me? I’m not going to throw everything at this like an idiot. I’m saving money. I’ll take on four classes in the fall.”

  “If Lewis can give you four.”

  “Regardless, this is a long-term goal. A really long-term goal, considering I gave it up for you.”

  Victor put on his sympathetic face. “I know I asked a lot of you. I’ve been selfish.”

  Well, this was a new admission. In the past, he’d only tried to convince her she’d been mistaken. Mistaken about his motives and his feelings and his actions.

  “I’m going to do this, Victor, no matter what my mother wants. No matter what you think. I don’t need to be protected from myself.”

  His head cocked, and he studied her, his lovely gray eyes warm with affection. She’d always loved his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to her until much too late that he knew their effect on women. They looked so damn sincere. “You really want this, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said wearily. “I really do.”

  He sat back in his chair and gazed upon her as if she were a child ready to leave the nest. “Then I’ll support you any way I can.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she muttered, feeling churlish and self-righteous all at the same time.

  When Victor leaned forward, his eyes grew even more sincere. He opened his hands on the desk, palms up, as if he were offering the world. “What can I do to help make this happen?”

  “For God’s sake, Victor. I don’t need your help. I’m totally capable.”

  “You might not need me, but I want to help. I love you, Olivia.”

  Her stomach burned with sudden rage. “You know who I think needs your help? And your love? Your pregnant girlfriend.”

  His face changed color so quickly she almost reached forward to make sure he didn’t fall face-first onto her desk. “What are you talking about?” he breathed.

  “I saw her at the restaurant. She’s pregnant.”

  The grayness of his skin slowly warmed to pink. The tips of his ears turned red as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “God,” he groaned.

  “Why do you keep telling me that you love me when you’re having a baby with Allison?”

  “I don’t want this.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want this. Listen—” When he reached for her, she jerked away. “Please, Olivia. I never stopped loving you. I know I screwed up, and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it—”

  “There’s no way to fix it! You betrayed me!”

  “I know, but I thought…I thought if I just gave it time, you’d realize how much you need me.”

  She sprang to her feet, pressing her fists against the desktop. “I don’t need you!”

  “Okay. Okay, fine.” He held up both hands and smiled gently. “I get it. I meant that I thought you’d realize how much you love me. I was waiting for you.”

  “You certainly managed to occupy yourself in the meantime.”

  “Did I think you might get jealous? Yes. I thought the women would work to my advantage. But I’ve never loved any of them. And now… Shit.” He crumpled, collapsing back into his chair as if his bones had turned to mush. “I don’t want her, O. I want you.”

  Her outrage drained away, and Olivia carefully lowered herself down to her chair. “Victor…she’s having your child. You’re going to have to try to love her.”

  “Maybe it’s not mine,” he muttered.

  “Was she dating anyone else?”

  The way his eyes slid away made it clear he was only grasping at straws. “I don’t even want kids.”

  It didn’t matter that she’d known that—her heart still wrenched at the words. He’d never said it so bluntly, never admitted it to her. There had always been excuses, reasons to delay, but he’d never admitted the bare truth…and now it was probably too late for her.

  “I don’t love you, Victor. I haven’t loved you for a long time. And you owe it to this child to try. You can’t just pretend it doesn’t exist. You can’t treat her mother like crap. This will probably be your only child.”

  “I can be a good father to it whether I’m with Allison or not. In fact—” his eyes glinted with a flash of sudden thought “—I’d probably be a much better father if I were with you. I’d be happy. I’d want to make you proud. And you’d be a wonderful stepmother. You’ve always wanted a baby.”

  That blow fell so hard that Olivia felt numb from the force of it. “You bastard,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “You bastard. I blamed myself, you know that? I thought maybe I hadn’t been straightforward enough. Maybe you didn’t realize that I wanted to be a mom. But you knew. You knew and you didn’t give a damn.”

  “That’s not true. We were so busy, I just kept thinking we’d put it off, and then—”

  “You’re a liar, Victor. And I’d never be with a man who could sneer about his own child the way you have with Allison’s baby. Get out of my office. Get out of my life.”

  He stood but didn’t move away. “This has been a shock to you.”

  She laughed in disgust.

  “I’ll call you when you’ve had a chance to cool down.”

  “Get out right now, or I swear to God I’ll call campus security and tell them you’re refusing to leave.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. But think about what I said.”

  She picked up the phone, and she must have looked serious, because he scurried toward the door like the rat he was.

  What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn’t one of those women who’d spent years paging through catalogs, wistfully lingering over the baby furniture. Sure, she’d thought they’d have kids, but she hadn’t ached at the thought. She took a deep breath, and already felt better. It wasn’t that he hadn’t given her kids. It was just some phantom jealousy that he’d denied her something that he was now giving to another woman.

  Well, not of his own free will, but…

  “What a mess,” she murmured. He’d really dug himself a deep hole this time. Whatever antipathy she’d had toward Allison was quickly transforming itself to pity.

  Still, Allison wasn’t her concern and neither was Victor. Olivia’s only concern now was her new business. Victor’s idiotic words had made her more determined than ever. More determined. And more impatient.

  Olivia spread all her plans out on the desk and opened the spreadsheets on the computer. Maybe she wouldn’t have to save for years. Maybe she wouldn’t have to take on four sessions next semester. Instead, she could scale back to two sessions if she could find one paying project. Just one. That would be a start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FRIDAY NIGHT BROUGHT a big crowd and Jamie’s favorite local Irish rock band. Everyone was in a great mood, tapping their feet to the music and roaring with applause after each song.

  Jamie was having a great time, too. Why wouldn’t he? He was back in his place, behind the bar, slinging beers and smiling. Tessa was serving tonight, and though she kept shooting him questioning looks, he made sure he was grinning every time.

  “Do you want to talk?” Eric had asked warily when Jamie had stalked in at 2:00 p.m. Jamie had asked, “About what?” and that had been the end of it.

  What the hell were they supposed to talk about? They could s
pend days hashing out their problems and nothing would be solved. Eric might grudgingly give some concession, throwing his little brother a few scraps to keep him happy, but Jamie would be damned if he’d be treated like a dog. Any plans he made, he’d make on his own.

  But at the moment, he couldn’t imagine what they might be. He felt lost again, but this time he was determined to find his way out of it.

  “Hey, Jamie!” a woman called from a table. “Where’s your kilt?”

  “At the dry cleaners!” he shouted back. The damn kilt made him think of Olivia, and how she’d stroked her hand up his thigh, easing the kilt higher until her hand had closed over his cock. Then she’d climbed atop him, completely naked, while he’d been fully clothed, his boots still laced. She’d—

  He shook off the thought. No more thoughts of Olivia. He’d gone to class on Tuesday just to prove a point, but that point had nearly killed him. He’d done a damn good job of not looking at Olivia, but he hadn’t been able to will her voice away. Hadn’t been able to make himself deaf. He didn’t want to give up the class and the information he needed, but he’d felt sick to his stomach by the time he’d left. On Thursday, he’d fabricated a reason to skip. He had the notes and the information she posted online. He’d have to make do with that.

  “Jamie?”

  He looked up to find Tessa watching him with a worried frown. “What?”

  “Did you hear the order?”

  He cleared his throat. “The music was too loud. Give it to me again.”

  She stared for a long moment, but he ignored her, busying himself with drawing a stout for the guy at the end of the bar who’d signaled for a refill. Tessa finally gave in and repeated the order before hurrying away.

  Tired of thinking about Olivia, Jamie tried to distract himself by singing along with the band, but he’d missed the chance. The chorus ended with a flourish and a crash of cymbals. The last note of the fiddle faded away. “All right, folks!” the lead singer said in an Irish brogue that got considerably thicker when he was onstage. “We’re going to go spend a little quality time with a pint, but cease your lament! We’ll be back in ten.”

  Wincing at the quiet that fell in the momentary lull, Jamie turned up the piped-in music and delivered a pitcher to the band.

  “Hey, bartender!” a man called when Jamie got back to the bar. He held up a finger and grabbed the bowl of pretzels he’d promised the band. A few seconds later, he was back.

  “Sorry about that. What can I—?” The words turned to gravel in his mouth when he saw who’d spoken. Him. Victor. What the fuck?

  “Jamie,” the guy said, smiling as if they were old friends. “Good to see you again.”

  “Okay,” he responded, warily accepting the hand Victor offered. As usual, the guy’s fingers tried to crush Jamie’s. Not likely.

  “I’ll take a pint of your best.”

  “It’s all the best,” Jamie said flatly.

  “All right, then…” He picked up a menu and looked it over as if he were reading an important treatise. Jamie tried not to let his violent irritation show. He’d never been jealous of this bastard, but now something dark and hot rose up in Jamie’s chest. Had he come here just to force Jamie to wait on him?

  “I’ll try the brown ale,” Victor finally said. Jamie grabbed a pint glass without responding.

  “How’s Olivia been?”

  Jamie shot him a glare. “If you want to know how Olivia is, I suggest you ask her.”

  “Sure, sure. I just wanted to know if you’re treating her right.”

  He handed Victor the glass, wiped his hands and went to serve another customer. What a smarmy creep that guy was. A powerless, pitiful creep. Which was exactly why Jamie shouldn’t be bothered by him.

  But Jamie wasn’t in Olivia’s bed anymore—he wasn’t in her life anymore—and suddenly this bastard seemed like the enemy. Not competition, exactly. It was just that…Jamie was no longer the winner. He was in the same boat of losers with this creep. Rejected. No longer wanted. A pitiful club of two.

  When was the damn band going to start playing again? The music would at least drown out Victor trying to make conversation.

  “Why do you look so grumpy tonight, Jamie?” A girl looped her arm around his waist and pulled him to a halt.

  Jamie gave her a grin. “I’m not grumpy, darlin’.”

  “Then why haven’t you been smiling at me?”

  He recognized her now. A pretty brunette who came in a couple of times a month with her friend. They were too young and giggly for his taste, but harmless otherwise. “I’m smiling at you now, aren’t I?”

  “You sure are.”

  “You need another beer?” he asked, then he swept an eye over the table, noticing that the pitcher was nearly empty and there were only two of them. “Or a cab?”

  She laughed uproariously at that, her hand slipping lower on his back. “A friend’s picking us up,” she said, beaming up at him. “But it’s awfully sweet of you to care.”

  Sweet. Sure. Also, he didn’t want to lose his license. But he winked at her before he slid away from the friendly hand. He stopped at another table, but Tessa shooed him away with a look of outrage. His responsibilities lay at the bar, and he had no choice but to return there.

  Victor’s glass was empty, and he pushed it toward Jamie. “Another,” he said with a superior smile.

  “Yes, sir,” Jamie muttered under his breath. He managed not to look at the guy once as he drew his beer and handed it over. Just to be clear on the matter, he printed out Victor’s bill and slid that over, as well.

  Despite a good five minutes spent avoiding the guy as he chatted with other customers, in the end, Jamie had no choice but to get close to grab his credit card. Victor had set the bill and card on his side of the bar, and Jamie had to reach for it.

  Before Jamie could grab the card, Victor’s hand closed over his wrist. “You know she’s just using you, right?” Victor said, his voice still dripping with friendliness.

  Jamie tensed and glanced toward the band again. The drummer had stood up, but the rest of them were taking their sweet time with the last drops of beer.

  “She’s trying to teach me a lesson. Make me jealous. You’re just a prop.”

  Jamie clenched his teeth together and jerked free of the hold. Yes, he knew he’d been used. That had been the whole point of it. Fun for all.

  “I’m going to get her back,” Victor said. “And you’ll just be an embarrassing memory. Something she wishes no one knew about.”

  “Back off,” Jamie growled. He stalked to the computer to close out the bill, noting with a snarl that Victor had given him a fifty-cent tip.

  He practically threw the final receipt at Victor, but he didn’t miss the man’s next words. “She needs someone who’ll take care of her, not the other way around.”

  Jamie’s face burned with anger, but he walked away. Distracting himself with other customers wouldn’t help this time, so he walked straight for the end of the bar and the double doors that led to the back. The band finally rattled a few instruments, as if they could be any help now. Next time their free pitcher would be slightly less generous.

  “Hey,” a voice barked. “You didn’t thank me for my patronage.”

  Jamie glanced back just as Victor’s hand closed over his arm. “Get off me,” Jamie warned, breaking away from Victor’s attempt to stop him. “And get out of my bar.” He pushed through the doors, and the cool air of the kitchen was an immediate relief. Until the loud bang of a hand catching the closing doors echoed through his bones.

  “She’s my wife,” Victor said, his fake smile finally slipping to reveal lips tight with rage. “And she’s nothing to you.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “She needs a man, Jamie. Not a boy like you.”

  Jamie’s vision went dark at the edges, but Victor’s face grew sharper.

  “And I have exactly what she needs,” Victor whispered. “A juicy bank account to fund her little bus
iness dreams.”

  “Get out of here before I pick you up and throw you out.”

  Victor’s next words were drowned out by the band as they finally came back to life. Jamie pointed at the door, but Victor just sneered and took one step closer. “I can only hope you taught her a few new tricks in the bedroom,” he shouted.

  The whine of the violin seemed to drag across Jamie’s nerves, and they snapped with a pop he felt through his whole body.

  Victor bared his teeth. “God knows, if anyone could use a little livening up in bed, it’s Olivia.”

  Jamie didn’t even feel his arm pull back. His first awareness of it was the feel of Victor’s chin as it ricocheted off Jamie’s knuckles and snapped away. Victor’s body snapped with it, and he flew backward, his shoulders parting the doors as if they were weightless.

  Before the doors swung closed again, Jamie saw him bounce along the floor. The whole room seemed to gasp at the same time, with a few screams as punctuation. The music died an ugly death as each player lost momentum. Jamie pushed through the doors and grabbed Victor by the collar to haul him toward the front door. A few people assumed Jamie was the good guy and cheered, but Tessa rushed forward like a streak of blond fear.

  “Jamie!” she cried.

  “Stay here.”

  Victor moaned and tried to scramble to his feet, so Jamie gave him a helpful tug. Before the man could regain his balance, Jamie opened the door and pulled Victor out.

  “You bastard!” Victor huffed. “You hit me!”

  “Yeah, I did.” His knuckles ached and his stomach had sunk as if he was still on a roller coaster with Olivia. He knew what was coming next. He pushed Victor toward the parking lot. “This is a bar, you asshole, not the dean’s office.”

  “I’m calling the cops!” Victor shouted, digging his phone from his pocket.

  Damn it. Jamie tried to look as unconcerned as possible. “Go ahead. But keep in mind, I’m going to recount every single detail to the police. And the paper.”

  Victor’s eyebrows twitched, but he pushed the nine.

  “And remember, I’m a bartender. An arrest for a minor assault isn’t really going to affect my career much. But a story in the Daily Camera about a professor in a bar brawl over his ex-wife? That should be exciting for your department.”