Page 118 of Good For Me

Jasmine’s blue-haired best friend doesn’t really strike me as the sporty type. “What did your cousin have to bribe her with to make that happen?”

She chats happily about her friend and cousin, who seem to be a total opposites-attract couple. Not that I’ve met her cousin yet. I’ve offered a few times, but she always turns me down. I’m trying not to let that bother me, that she doesn’t seem to want me to know one of her only family members, but it stings a little.

I push all of that out of my mind when we get inside, determined to enjoy the evening with my girl. Over the last few months, I’ve found that few things in life make me as content as watching Jas eat food—mainly because food makes her so happy, and I can’t help but feel good when my girl feels good.

But it all goes to hell before she even has a chance to order.

The waiter has just returned with our waters when a shadow falls over our table. I look up to see a man standing there, scowling. He barely glances at me, his entire attention on Jas.

A strong sense of distaste fills my chest, though I’m not exactly sure why. The guy’s face is familiar but I can’t quite—

“Kurt,” Jas says, her voice hard, and it hits me. The ex-boyfriend. The douchebag accountant who she used to bring to Davie’s. The asshole who cheated on her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Working. Lou and I needed to go over some numbers.”

I glance at my phone. It’s after seven on a Friday—of course this clown is still working.

She gives him a tight smile. “Can’t say it was nice to see you,” she says in a sweetly acidic voice before turning her face away. “You have a good night.”

“I want to talk to you.” God, I’d forgotten how much I hated this guy’s voice. He always sounded like this when he was in the bar with her—a mixture of self-important and whining, his voice grating on me even when he was across the room.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

He sighs, like she’s putting him out. “You do, actually. We need to discuss the terms for the disbursement.” I watch her body go rigid but dickweed doesn’t seem to notice. His voice drops lower, softer. “But more than that, I want to talk to you. You never return my calls. I miss you.”

I’ve heard just about enough. “Hey, asshole,” I say, and his head snaps to me, eyes widening a little as if he hadn’t really registered I was here. “She said she doesn’t want to talk. So get the hell out of here.”

“Who are you?” he asks in that snooty voice.

“My boyfriend,” she cuts in, and my gaze snaps in her direction. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her call me that before. Some of my irritation at his interruption melts away.

“Your boyfriend?” he asks, aghast. Then he laughs. The fucker laughs. “You cannot be serious.”

I start to stand. If he won’t walk away when asked, I’ll just have to make him go. But Jas places a hand on my arm. “I’m very serious. And we’re trying to enjoy our evening, so, again, get lost.”

But the accountant is studying me now, his eyes narrowed, like he’s trying to solve some mystery. “Aren’t you that bartender?”

I laugh. “Good memory. Sorry to say it took me a minute to recognize you. I pretty much forgot you existed.”

His jaw tightens and he turns back to her. “You’re dating a bartender? Are you fucking kidding me?”

This time I do stand. “You’re not raising your voice at her,” I growl. “And you sure as hell aren’t cursing at her.”

It might be kind of a stupid thing to get annoyed about—Jas swears like a sailor, maybe even worse than my uncle Cash—but I still don’t like this dick talking like that to my girl.

“She and I have history.”

“I’m well aware.” I give him my best charming smile. “I should thank you, actually. Cheating on a woman like her is the dumbest thing a man could do, but I sure am glad you’re out of the picture.”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer. “Oh, but I’m not,” he says, voice low. “I’m very much in the picture. I’m connected to Jas and her life in a way abartendernever could be.”

Jas stands too, her hand going to her obvious baby bump. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gapes at her stomach for a long moment until a look of revulsion crosses his face. “You’repregnant?”

Her fingers tighten slightly over her bump, almost protectively. “I am.”