Page 36 of Cozen

She did not have this problem.

Not during jobs!

That’s what Sargon was.

A fucking problem.

Sargon’s tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip before he said, “With that out of the way, I was told to deliver you an offer.”

The warmth in his tone fled just like that. A clinical coldness took its place instead.

Cozen heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, and quickly put a few inches of space between her and Sargon. She had a goal in mind with Jett Griffin, and she did not need even the idea of something inappropriate with someone else to ruin her endgame.

Sure enough, Marissa came out from the kitchen and resumed her work behind the bar. Cozen slid the finished tab across to the girl, saying, “Would you mind giving that to Chase for me?”

“No problem, Zen.”

“Thanks.”

Once Marissa was out of sight again—although not for long, Cozen knew—she put her attention back on Sargon.

“What offer is that?” she asked.

Sargon didn’t close the distance between them, either. It was like a switch had flipped in him, and his direction had altogether changed because of it.

She didn’t mind.

Much.

“Can my boss assume your attention in the private dining area was not in some way … misguided?” he asked.

Cozen cocked a brow. “In what way would my attention be misguided?”

“Maybe for a bigger tip, who knows?”

Ah.

“He can assume my attention was very well intended,” she returned.

Sargon’s gaze hardened the same way his jaw did at her words.

Jealous, she thought.

He was jealous.

Cozen pushed it away. “How old is Jett, anyway?”

She knew Jett’s age. She was simply testing Sargon. It was a dangerous game to play, but she didn’t know any better at the moment.

“Fifty-five, edging closer to fifty-six.”

“And yet, he looks forty, at the most. Good genes, I guess.”

Sargon sucked air through his teeth. “That offer—Jett would like to see you again. Outside of here, I assume. Dinner, likely. That is, if you’re also interested.”

“I would be.”

It was her opening.