Chapter 11
I hastily complete the payment from the guy I’ve just served and spin the pay screen back around before striding out from behind the bar and rushing over to Blake’s table, where Jazz has made himself comfortable at the spare fourth chair.
I arrive just in time to hear him say to Blake, “Yeah, you’re not as hot as Damon, but you’ve definitely still got it going on.”
“Uhh…thanks,” Blake says wryly, seeming more amused than offended by the blatant way Jazz is scanning his eyes over his body.
“Damon tells me you’re into threesomes,” Jazz goes on. “If your husband’s as hot as you I’d definitely be up for it.”
“That is the exact opposite of what I said,” I growl at him.
Jazz glances up at me, showing no surprise whatsoever to find me standing there. “Are you sure? I have an excellent ear for detail and I remember you answering in the affirmative when I asked. You even wished me luck.”
I let out a rough snort. “Clearly you don’t have an excellent ear for sarcasm.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not sharing my husband with anyone,” Blake tells him.
“If a threesome’s on offer, I think we should at least consider it,” Jamie pipes in.
“You getting sick of me, red?” Shay asks with a wry smile.
“God no. It’ll be a good three, three-and-a-half years before I’m sick of you, babe,” Jamie quips back.
Shay grins. “Alright then, let’s pencil in a threesome for three years down the track.”
“Yes, please keep talking about your sex life,” Blake says dryly.
Jazz turns his attention to Jamie, his brows drawn together in curiosity. “You’re related, aren’t you? You’ve got the same eyes. You one of Damon’s kids?”
“Fucking hell, how old do you think I am?” I grumble.
He flashes a teasing smirk at me. “Not too old to ride my dick if you want to.”
I will myself not to react to the outrageous comment. I know he’s only trying to get a rise out of me and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I’ll pass.”
“Jamie’s my son,” Blake clarifies.
“It was a whole long-lost bio-dad DNA search thing,” Jamie says with a casual wave of his hand. “Very dramatic.”
“Especially the part where you realized you’d been fucking his best friend,” Shay says with a grin.
“Yes, please, let’s continue on this topic,” Blake grumbles, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, let’s,” Jazz says, leaning forward in eager anticipation.
“How did you know I have kids?” I interrupt, curious about his earlier comment.
He blinks at me, no doubt confused by the sudden change of topic.
“A good boss should know these things about his employee. You’re forty-two, divorced, have two kids in college, recently relocated from Detroit—good choice, by the way.
Former personal trainer, which explains why you’re still so fucking hot at your advanced age. ”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m straight. Get it through your head.”
“What? I can’t state a fact?” he asks, expression pure innocence. “You should be flattered.”
“I don’t exactly consider it flattering to be constantly hit on by a child.”
His brows fly up. “That’s your issue? Not that I’m a guy or that you work for me?” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I should just wait a few years until you hit a mid-life crisis and can see the benefit in all this.”
“There are a lot of benefits, man,” Shay agrees, holding his palm up for Jamie to high-five.
Jazz smirks up at me, holding his hand out to Jamie and Shay as if presenting his statement as evidence for the defense. “See?”
I shrug, offering my own smirk in return. “Feel free to wait around if you want but it won’t get you anywhere. It’s not actually your age that I have an issue with—it’s really just you as a person.”
He scoffs. “Impossible. I’m fucking amazing.”
“You’re a dick.”
He shrugs. “I’m an amazing dick.”
“Fucking hell, your ego knows no bounds,” I huff, shaking my head.
“More importantly, I have an amazing dick,” Jazz says with a smirk. “Which you’re welcome to wrap your lips around anytime you’d like.”
“I’m good,” I grate out through a clenched jaw.
“Are you sure?” he goads. “What about the other way around then?” He unashamedly scans his gaze down my body, lingering on my crotch, before returning his eyes to my face, his lips curved in a taunting grin. “Just let me know when and where. I bet I could make you go off like a rocket.”
If the heat hitting my cheeks is any indicator, they must be burning a furious shade of red right now, and I have no doubt Jazz is getting immense satisfaction out of it.
“Fuck, maybe you should do it just to shut him up,” Blake says with a chuckle.
Jazz’s eyes light up and he points a finger at Blake. “Thank you. That’s an excellent suggestion. I can tell you’re an innovative thinker.”
I send an arctic glare my brother’s way. Jazz does not need any further encouragement.
“I’m getting back to work,” I mutter, turning away from the table.
As I walk away, I hear Blake saying, “You could give it a rest, you know. He’s clearly not interested and it makes him uncomfortable.”
“That’s what’s so hot,” Jazz says, confirming all of my suspicions that he gets off on making me squirm. “And I think he secretly likes it.”
“I think that might be wishful thinking, mate,” Jamie says wryly.
“Well, he hasn’t told me to stop yet,” Jazz says simply. “If he does, I’ll cut it out. But he won’t—like I said, he likes it.”
“Uh huh. If you say so,” Blake says.
I bypass the service area of the bar and head straight for the door that leads to the storage rooms, offices, and staff bathroom.
I need a minute to breathe without what feels like the entire fucking world scrutinizing me, so I head into the bathroom and turn on the faucet, splashing some cool water on my face.
Jazz can’t be right. I can’t actually like the way he’s always singling me out for attention. It’s uncomfortable. And unsettling. And humiliating.
The way he spoke to me in front of my brother and the others just now was absolutely mortifying, and even just reliving it is making my face heat all over again with embarrassment.
And it’s not just my face; my whole body is hot, like I’m running a fever or something.
My skin is on fire, my insides are crackling and…
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m turned on.
I splash more water over my face in a desperate attempt to rid myself of this fever dream. But it’s not working. My dick is hard as stone because for some fucked up reason the memory of Jazz tormenting me in front of my brother, Shay, and Jamie is turning me on.
What. The. Fuck?
And why the hell is it happening now all of a sudden?
I reluctantly cast my mind back to the interaction from earlier, this time focusing on my reaction. I know I didn’t get hard at the time, but…shit, there was something. And thinking back on it now, it’s been like that for every interaction I’ve had with the guy.
I don’t understand it. I’m not gay. I can acknowledge Jazz is an aesthetically attractive guy…but I sure as hell don’t want to have sex with him. So why the fuck is my cock chubbing out at the mere thought of him tormenting me?
Before I have time to puzzle it out, the bathroom door swings open and because I’m cursed, it’s of course Jazz who strides in.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I snap, before remembering it’s actually his bar and he can go anywhere he wants.
He arches a brow at me. “Taking a leak before my next set.” Predictably, his eyes stray to my crotch and he doesn’t fail to note of my situation. “What happen? You accidentally pop a Viagra?”
“No, I did not pop a Viagra,” I grate out through clenched teeth.
He holds his hands up. “Just checking. I figure old guys like you probably have it on hand for emergency situations. Wouldn’t want to mix it up with a mint or something.”
“I’m fucking forty-two, you asshole,” I growl. “I don’t need Viagra to get hard.”
He smirks at me and I know I’ve fallen into a trap. Fucking hell, this guy. “What do you need to get hard?” He glances around the bathroom as though expecting someone to pop out from one of the stalls. “I don’t see any supermodels hiding in the corner.”
“That’s none of your fucking business,” I snap, feeling more and more agitated the longer this conversation drags on. My fucking cock will not go down. For some messed up reason it’s thriving on my mortification in this moment.
Jazz arches a brow at me. “This is my bar. And you’re an employee. What were you going to do? Whip it out right here and rub one out? At work?” He shakes his head in mock disapproval. “Naughty Damon. You are a dirty boy.”
My face flames hotter and my cock pulses harder. Great. Apparently being shamed does it for me as well. Because things aren’t already messed up enough.
“Of course I wasn’t going to do that,” I grate out, my knuckles whitening with the fierce grip I have of the bathroom counter.
“Well, you’d better think of something,” Jazz says with a shrug. “Because that monster looks ready to break through your zipper. I’d hate for someone to lose an eye.”
“You’re the fucking devil,” I mutter, finally managing to peel my grip from the counter and storm out of the bathroom. I don’t care if Gia or one of the other staff members catches a glimpse my hard-on. I just need to be away from this asshole.