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“You okay, hot shot?” Devon asks once the keg is set. A bead of sweat slips down his temple, and I watch it fall for far too long.

“Don’t call me that. We’re at work.”

He just rolls his eyes, using the hem of his shirt—my shirt—to wipe the sweat off his face. “God forbid someone thinks we’re friends.”

“We’re not,” I snap, forcing my gaze away from his shimmering abs. Jesus, how can this asshole still have abs after a coke addiction? Is it genetics or some shit? Unfair.

“And stop flirting with our boss,” I add way too aggressively.

That has his brows jumping high, his bridge piercing catching in the light. “Why? You jealous?”

My face twists into a grimace. “Fuck no. Juanita is like my tía. Gross, fool.”

“I wasn't talking about Juanita,” he says, whiskey eyes glowing.

My lungs seize for a beat. I scoff and roll my shoulders like his words are ridiculous. “I don’t give a shit who you flirt with.”

“That so?”

I should walk away. Kick him out of the storage room and lock myself in the freezer until the heat crawling under my skin chills out.

Instead, I hear myself say, “Look, hermano, I don’t care who you flirt with. It’s not my business.”

The fucker just laughs. “Sure.”

“What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you say you don’t care,” he says quietly, somehow closer now than he was a second ago, “but your eyes tell a different story.”

My stomach flips, doing all kinds of weird shit, and I look away before he can see the panic on my face. “You’re imagining things.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You're a selfish piece of shit, Dev. Not everything’s about you.”

He flinches, at least I think he does. When I turn back to face him, though, all I see is a blank expression gazing back at me. No humor, or anger, or… anything, really. Just dull brown eyes.

“You act as if everything about me pisses you off,” he whispers, swallowing hard.

I can’t help but watch his throat flex with the movement. “It does.”

Suddenly, he smiles, mask back in place. “Sounds like something a jealous person would say.”

“I’m not jealous,” I growl, fists clenching at my sides. “I don’t fucking care.”

“If you say so.”

He turns around without another word, leaving the room. My eyes drop to his ass instinctively and I snarl at myself. Fuck, I shouldn't have given him those jeans. This fucking sucks. Why does he have to be so hot?

We hate him, motherfucker, I tell my dick. Don't forget. Not only did he sleep with my girl behind my back, but he's the reason Logan almost died. The reason Salem skipped off around the world and why TOT is drowning.

Okay, maybe not that last part, but I really need to make my sponsors happy. They won't wait around forever. How the hell am I supposed to do that, though, without Salem managing shit? Goddammit.

No, Devon might not be to blame for my burning business, but he's the catalyst that set the blaze. And I will not let my attraction to the fucker distract me from getting my money back from him.

And then he can get the hell out of my life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN