My brows creep up at the question. “You mean him staring at me while singing nineties songs about sex and obsession?”
Blake shrugs. “I know why it would makesomeoneuncomfortable. But this kind of thing usually rolls right off you.”
I’m not going to lie; I’ve been wondering the same thing. A lot. I have no idea why Jazz is different. He just is. Maybe it’s because he’s doing all this on purpose. He knows exactly how to get under my skin and he enjoys it. Or maybe it’s because I’m so fucking aware of him, and I have no idea why. I shouldn’t be able to sense him staring at me. I shouldn’t even notice the songs he’ssinging. The truth is, he’s been taking up way too much space in my head lately andthatis what makes me more uncomfortable than anything else.
“Yeah, well, this is different. The kid just rubs me the wrong way, I guess.”
“If you’re really uncomfortable you should do something,” Blake says.
“It’s fine.” No fucking way am I giving Jazz the satisfaction of complaining about this. And it’s not that big of a deal anyway. It’s just music. And staring. And brazenly revealing sexual fantasies. And an asshole kid that won’t get the fuck out of my head.
I return to the bar to give Gia a hand. It’s still early so it’s not super busy yet, but there are still enough people waiting that I feel guilty just standing around shooting the shit with my brother.
Fortunately, Jazz lays off the blatant staring for the rest of his set, but it seems as though the floodgates have opened and all the songs he’s been holding back for the past few days are now coming out. There’s nothing too overt, thank fuck, but I know it’s only a matter of time.
After about half an hour, he finishes up his rendition of Sublime’s “What I Got” and sets his guitar down. Then I watch in horror as he makes a beeline for Blake’s table, a characteristic smirk on his face.
11
I hastily completethe 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.
