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I looked at the folks milling around the tables. “Who’s next? We’re done.”
Angela slapped a couple bucks on the table. “Alex and I got next.”
We relinquished our pool cues and weaved the short distance to the bar. And now another douchebag was hanging on Jo’s every word. I paused, and Dan bumped into me.
“What’s up, Luc?” His eyes followed mine. “That the chef?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Teaching you to cook, huh? In the kitchen, right? That’s not a euphemism, is it?”
“No, just in the kitchen.” My jaw clenched.
“Who’s the guy she’s with?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I gritted out.
“Ah. If you want her, standing here with me is not getting that done. Start walking.”
I slid in behind Jo’s chair and pried Jake’s attention away from ReeAnn to place my order.
Jo looked over her shoulder. “Hi, Lucas.”
“Hey, Jo.”
Douchebag-two-point-O eyed me, and I smiled straight at him. Our eyes locked for a few beats before he looked back to Jo. “Nice talking to you. Enjoy the drink.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. Good luck with the boat remodel.” I motioned for Dan to take the space. He wouldn’t be there long, and having him there meant no more douchebags for a while.
“Jo, this is my friend, Dan. He and his wife Carrie recently had a baby. Dan, this is Jo. My … chef.”
“Right. I think I helped cater your wedding. Congratulations,” Jo said. “Girl or boy?”
“Thanks. Girl.”
ReeAnn leaned around us. “How’s Carrie doing, Dan?”
Dan’s face lit up. “She’s good. And Lily is feeding and kicking. Apparently, according to the doctor and the baby books, she's a good sleeper, but since when is four hours an impressive amount of sleep?”
ReeAnn chuckled in her soothing way. “Newborns, especially early ones like Lily, have to wake often to eat. Small tummies. Nursing going well?”
Dan paused. “Umm, I guess.”
ReeAnn winked. “I’ll stop with that line of questioning. Tell Carrie I’ll come by soon with some essential oils that might help with any, ah, soreness.”
“Sure thing.” Dan slumped back into the bar, looking defeated.
“What?” I asked him and shifted out from behind Jo’s chair with my beer.
“Nursing—” he said as he squirmed, “— it takes some getting used to, I guess.” He glanced at Jo.
“Don’t mind me. I have boobs. There is no secret about them you can tell me.” My dick twitched at the mention of Jo’s boobs. Typical. They did look pretty great in that little red sweater.
“Carrie’s in some pain. The baby had trouble latching on, they said.” Dan shook his head. “I want to help, but there’s not a fucking thing I can do. If my hand even comes close to her chest, Carrie shrieks. I hope that doesn’t last forever.”
Jo grinned. “It doesn’t. At least it didn’t for my sisters. Hang in there.”
I didn’t want to talk about Carrie’s boobs. I wanted to admire Jo’s. Her curly hair shone in the lights above the bar and floated across her shoulders to the tops of those delicious tits. She smelled like vanilla and something else. I sucked in a big inhale as discreetly as possible. Her jeans stretched over her hips and disappeared into high black leather boots with a solid heel, and I pictured her riding me wearing only those boots. Shit. What were we talking about?
