A Bluewater Bay Collection

by Witt, L. A.

  His eyebrow rose, as did one corner of his mouth. “Define ‘a few.’”

  “Not to someone who was probably in kindergarten around the time I signed my first mortgage,” I said dryly.

  Jesse’s wicked grin made my spine tingle, and he narrowed his eyes over the rim of his glass. “Oh, come on. You’re not that much older than me.”

  I inclined my head, eyeing him.

  He sipped his drink and smiled. “Okay, I won’t try to make you feel old.”

  “Too late.” I winked, and damn if he didn’t squirm on his barstool.

  He took another drink. “So tell me some more stories about that bar. It must’ve been entertaining as fuck, working in a place like that.”

  “It was. I can’t say there was never a dull moment, but it could sure be interesting.” I paused. “We had a lot of really shitty guys come in there, though. The ones who’d hit on women who were so obviously uninterested it was painful.” I clicked my tongue. “I broke up a lot of those conversations by asking the guys why they were harassing my girlfriend.”

  Jesse straightened. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. They’d back the hell off as soon as they realized she belonged to another guy.” Scowling, I shook my head. “Shouldn’t have taken that, you know? But at least he’d be out of the poor woman’s hair.”

  “Smart,” he said with a slow nod. “Bet that earned you a few tips.”

  I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, it did. And half of them ended up asking me out too. Which . . .” My heart sank a bit at the memory. “That was actually how my coworkers figured out I was gay.”

  Jesse’s eyebrow flicked upward.

  I shifted my weight. “They saw me turn down enough hot women over the course of a year, they finally confronted me and asked. And . . . I told them.”

  He leaned in a little. “How did that go?”

  “Not as bad as I’d expected. My coworkers didn’t care. Not even the ones who I thought would have an issue.” Scowling, I sighed. “My boss, however . . . Let’s just say I’m pretty sure that’s why I got fired.”

  “Fired?” he squeaked. “Really?”

  “Different era. I probably should’ve just kept my mouth shut. I knew how my boss felt about . . . well, about guys like us.”

  Jesse’s lips thinned and he huffed. “I think I’d have thrown something at him.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you would have. You don’t seem like the type to take crap from people.”

  “Neither do you.”

  I sobered and gave the bar around us another glance, less to look for empty glasses and more to avoid his scrutiny for a second. When my gaze returned to his, I said, “Twenty-one-year-old me took a lot more crap than forty-two-year-old me does.”

  He gave me a subtle down-up. I couldn’t decide if it was an appraising look or . . . or something I couldn’t begin to read. He met my eyes again, and his smile screwed with my blood pressure again. “I can understand that.”

  Goose bumps prickled under my shirt and up into my scalp. Resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze, I said, “Time and experience do that, I guess.”

  Jesse’s laugh was dry, bordering on wicked. “God help anyone who fucks with fortysomething me, then.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He winked. “I’ve been told I’m ‘challenging’ already.”

  Is that right? I cleared my throat. “Good. That’s good. Keeps people from walking all over you.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, people try, but they don’t get very far. Which probably drives my bosses insane.”

  “Always does,” I said with a laugh.

  We bantered on about jobs and people and the odd story about workplace hijinks when they came to us. I moved away a few times to deal with customers, but just like I’d done the first time he’d come in here, I gravitated right back to him as if that was the obvious place for me to spend the evening.

  All too soon, though, Jesse checked his phone and sighed. “I should go. I have to be at the shop extra early tomorrow.”

  My own disappointment surprised me, and I quietly said, “Damn.”

  “Tell me about it.” He groaned. “They want me there—like physically there in the shop—at seven. In the morning.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “They’re slave drivers, I’m telling you.”

  I laughed. “Cruel bastards.”

  “Right? But at least the boss lady promised to bring me my favorite coffee, so . . .” He shrugged, and when he met my gaze, that wry little smile made the room ten degrees warmer. “I guess it’s okay.” He paused. “Do you mind me coming back another night?”

  My heart did things I wasn’t sure it had ever done before. Flippy, fluttery things. “I, uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “Sure. Of course.” Damn it. I’d sounded way too eager, so I quickly added, “We love regulars.”

  Something in his expression fell, as if that wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. With a slightly less enthusiastic smile, he said, “I’ll probably go home and crash tomorrow night, but you’ll see me again.” Some hopefulness grew in his eyes as his forehead creased.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  That brought back the missing enthusiasm, and I very nearly let go a sigh of relief that I hadn’t fucked up that second chance.

  “Okay. Well.” He motioned toward the door. “I’ll get out of your hair. But I’ll see you soon.”

  “See you soon.”

  And yeah, I was definitely looking forward to it.

  Chapter 5

  Jesse

  “I had an epiphany on my way to work.” I clutched my travel mug as I waited for Lydia to unlock the shop’s back door at stupid thirty the next morning. “It’s a goddamned travesty that Starbucks doesn’t have 7-Eleven sizes for their coffees.”

  She glanced at the mug in my hand. “That thing’s practically a Super Big Gulp already. What more do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” I took a sip. “A bucket, maybe?”

  She laughed. “That’s just what I need.” She pushed the door open and waved me into the dark shop. “You and Simon bouncing off the walls from drinking coffee by the bucket, especially after I get you that monstrosity I promised you.”

  “We’d be awake, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” She locked the door behind us as I flipped on the lights. “And by the way, I’ll swing into Stomping Grounds during lunch and get you that . . . thing you drink. Just didn’t have time this morning.”

  “Whatever.” I made a disgusted noise before taking another sip. At least she’d texted me to let me know she’d been running late, so I’d had time to get myself some coffee, rather than letting me show up and find out there was no vat of sugar and caffeine waiting for me. After that disaster last winter when I’d tried to quit drinking coffee, she and Simon both took my addiction seriously—no one wanted to share space with an undercaffeinated Jesse.

  While Lydia shut off the security system, I went to the shop floor, steeling myself to check the display Simon had been fucking with last night. To my surprise, it wasn’t a complete wreck. She and Simon had apparently made a modest effort to do some damage control after I’d left, and the shelves he’d dissected were more or less organized now. Not quite to my standards, but it would do for the moment.

  My boss appeared beside me. “How does it look?” There was a hint of trepidation in her voice. She and her husband called the shots around here, but it was no secret how much of a diva I was about displays.

  “Not bad.” I sipped my coffee as I turned to her. “No bloodstains on the carpet, either, so you guys didn’t kill each other. Well done.”

  Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You two would’ve killed each other. Not us.”

  Okay, she had a point. The woman had infinite patience with both of the men in her house—her husband and their boyfriend, Ian—and had probably spent their long evening chatting while they’d reassembled the display. Hell, Ian might’ve eve
n come by to help after he’d gotten off work. The packages and figurines were displayed artfully enough to suggest his influence.

  So it was all good. I’d reorganize this later when I had more time, but the shop was in working order, nobody had throttled Simon, and I had coffee. Yep. All good.

  “All right.” She pointed toward the back room with her chin. “Let’s get to it.”

  We dragged two of the big folding tables from the back and set them up in the corner of the shop closest to the door. This area was always empty unless we were having an event. It was one of Simon’s crazy ideas—he’d had us rearrange the entire shop a few months ago so this area was wide open. We used the space for gaming tournaments, as well as for signings or release events.

  The idea was to draw people in so Hunter Easton could sign their Wolf’s Landing books or one of the actors could sign a photo, and then have them stand in a line that strategically snaked between the aisles in case they wanted to make an impulse purchase or three. It was incredibly effective. My coworker Dexy and I were always amazed at how much additional stuff people would have by the time they made it to the cash register. Simon might have been weirdly impulsive about when to wreak havoc on my displays, but he was damn savvy about getting merchandise into people’s hot little hands.

  That principle worked pretty well for game releases too—the more merchandise people walked past en route to the register, the more likely they were to have a sudden craving for the most recent Magic: The Gathering expansion or the latest and greatest Wolf’s Landing swag.

  Once the tables were out and draped with the plastic tablecloths provided by the game studio, we hauled out the boxes containing the expansion going on sale today. We were going to be busy, no doubt about that. Space Villager was a wildly popular MMORPG, and though the expansion was available online, there were some limited-edition figurines and swag packs for people who bought their expansions in stores. The hardcore fans wouldn’t miss it.

  As I sliced through the tape, I glanced outside. At least twenty people had already gathered outside, noses pressed against the glass, eyes wide and eager. Nearly all of them were decked out in Space Villager hats, T-shirts, and even sneakers, and most of them were clutching Space Villager travel mugs. Behind them, more fans were trickling down the sidewalk to join the growing crowd.

  I suppressed a grin. Or at least tried to. Beside me, Lydia snorted.

  “What?” I feigned innocence.

  “You’re going to end up on YouTube one of these days. You know that, right?” She was practically vibrating with barely contained laughter.

  “I keep hoping.” I let the grin happen. “Imagine what that would do to the shop if I went viral.”

  She covered her mouth, laughing harder. “You do you, baby.”

  “Oh. I will. I so will.” Clearing my throat, I put the box cutter aside and casually turned so I was more or less facing the wide-eyed crowd outside. I made an exaggerated gesture out of opening the box, then dramatically turned away and shielded my eyes like I’d opened the Ark of the Covenant.

  Lydia snickered. A few people outside laughed.

  “One of these days,” she said, “you really need to do this when Simon is here.”

  “Why? So he’ll believe you when you tell him?”

  “Yes! Exactly!”

  “Nah.” I shook my head. “I’d rather let him see it on YouTube.” Okay so it wasn’t intentional, but somehow the timing had always worked out so my other boss didn’t bear witness to my prerelease setup shenanigans. Whenever Lydia insisted to him that it was true, I denied it, and he had no idea who to believe. If she tried to film me, I’d stop and do my job with nothing but decorum and professionalism.

  No camera or Simon, though, so I leaned down to slowly—no, seductively—remove one of the Space Villager boxes, and held it up just enough to give the people outside a peek of its corner. Just enough to reveal the distinctive logo. Hand to God, a few of them licked their chops. Looking right at them, I made a big show of withdrawing the box as I ran my tongue across my lower lip. I locked eyes with a random person outside and slid my fingers up and down the colorful box like I was feeling it up. I snapped my hips to one side. Then the other. I sashayed toward the empty display, stretched out my arm, and dramatically placed the box in the middle of the table. A few people rolled their eyes, but most of them laughed or even applauded.

  “You sure you don’t need some music?” Lydia asked.

  “Nope. I got this.” And then I let loose, dancing like I was in a club as I took one box after another out of the package, turning the act of unpacking and arranging game expansions into the most ridiculously provocative maneuver I could manage without falling on my ass. Hey, if people were going to stare at me like a zoo animal while I set up a display, I was sure as shit going to have fun with it. And hell, it kept them entertained. I’d stood in enough lines like that—showing up at the crack of dawn for the latest game release—to know how fucking boring it could get.

  The crowd outside was getting bigger by the minute, and with more people watching me, I played it up even more. I didn’t even have to break my stride to open up the next shipment—Lydia took care of that for me before disappearing into the back and leaving me to it. The people outside egged me on—not that I needed it—and before long I was sweating like crazy and smiling like a fool while I swung around boxes of Space Villager like burlesque props. I seriously fucking loved my job.

  “Jesse?” Simon’s voice spun me around. He was watching me, arms folded across his chest and one eyebrow climbing his forehead. The expression on his face was probably supposed to be stern, but the way the corner of his mouth twitched, he was fighting really hard against a smirk. “What’re you doing?”

  “Um.” I cleared my throat. “Unpacking the Space Villager expansions?”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes flicked toward the crowd, who were laughing hysterically as I was “busted” by my boss. “I see.”

  “I told you he enjoys setting things up.” Lydia appeared from between two aisles. “I swear this is half the reason people come all the way from Port Angeles and Sequim on release days.”

  Simon laughed, shaking his head. “Carry on, then.”

  “Oh.” I winked. “I will.”

  * * *

  Release days were chaotic as fuck, but they were fun. The enthusiasm that could knock over shelves and scramble displays was also infectious. Everyone chattered with everyone else about Space Villager and the rest of the shop’s merchandise. I was literally getting paid to gush about games and comics and Wolf’s Landing with people who were willing to line up at seven in the morning to get their hands on a game expansion. Didn’t matter how tired I was today or how early I’d had to roll my ass out of bed—I felt great.

  And I felt even better when Ian showed up with coffee from Stomping Grounds, especially since he was carrying a gigantic plastic cup overflowing with sprinkle-covered whipped cream. Technically Lydia was supposed to be the one to bring me my coffee, but I wasn’t going to split hairs about her delegating it to her boyfriend.

  I clasped my hands in front of me, mouth watering at the sight of the blended triple mocha. “Oh, you saint. Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

  “Only because your boss told me to.” Ian tried to look put out, but we both chuckled as he handed me the cup. He wiped the condensation from the cold drink off on his jeans, then went to give Simon and Lydia their coffees. It wasn’t unusual for him to bring them coffee, and it had become a running joke between us that he would bring some for me when I started living and sleeping with him like they were. Not that I would’ve been opposed to the idea. Dude was smoking hot.

  But he had his hands full with them, and I had my hands full of sweet caffeinated bliss, and God yeah, this was a damn good day. I didn’t even mind that I’d have to run an extra mile this afternoon to make up for some of the thirty-two million calories in every blissful gulp of—

  “Hey, Jesse?”

  I turned around and f
roze. Two words, one look, and my good mood ditched me. My skin started crawling and my stomach was suddenly heavy, my body weighed down by bone-deep fatigue.

  Charlie hated Space Villager. He’d repeatedly expressed his disgust at how amateurish he thought the graphics were, which was ridiculous since the graphics on that game made reality jealous.

  He wasn’t here for the expansion, and my good spirits were gone.

  Zero to “fuck my life” in point six seconds. Impressive, you dick.

  I took a breath. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk.” He slid his hands into his pockets and looked at me through his lashes like the pitiful prodigal hero of a bad romantic comedy. “About the other night.”

  I pursed my lips. “No.”

  He straightened. “What?”

  “I’m working. I don’t have time for this.” I motioned toward the throngs of people in the shop. “Especially not today.”

  “Well, don’t you have a break or something coming up?”

  I caught Simon’s eye. His brow creased. He was fine with any of us having visitors in the shop as long as they didn’t disrupt things, and he had precisely zero tolerance for anyone harassing us. His eyes said nothing if not, Want me to kick him out?

  Yes, please. Or even better—have Lydia do it.

  But I couldn’t ask them to do that for me.

  “We’re slammed today,” I reminded Charlie. “It could be a while.”

  He shrugged. “I can wait.”

  I didn’t even try to hold back the frustrated groan. I’d hoped he would tell me never mind, walk out, and never come back. Should’ve known I wouldn’t be that lucky.

  “Let me talk to my boss,” I muttered and stepped away before he had a chance to speak.

  Simon left Dexy to handle the register. “What’s going on?”