JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) by Olivia Chase Page A

emotions, I paste on a fake smile and lock eyes on one of the women, a brunette with great tits. “Hey, darling,” I purr. “What can I getcha?”
    She responds instantly, her lips parting, despite her boyfriend’s glare. “Oh. Hi. Um, how about some kind of a cocktail with rum?”
    “I’ll make it extra sweet for you,” I say, then lean forward. “If you can handle it, that is.”
    The boyfriend stiffens. “Ahem.”
    I ignore him and turn to the other girl. “And for you? Maybe you need something with a bit more punch than you’re getting.” I shoot a deliberate glance at the man beside her. His face reddens. Then I look back at her. “I bet you can handle it, can’t you.”
    Her eyes widen, and she gives a shocked giggle.
    The two men stand and shoot hostile glares at me, but both are smaller than me by a good few inches and several pounds. I release all of my anger and stare at them until they wilt.
    They grab their girlfriends’ hands and tug them out of the seats, saying how Outlaws is dirty and greasy and they didn’t want anything here anyway. Then the four of them leave.
    I’m petty. Petty as fuck. But a small part of me gets a burst of pleasure from fucking up my brother’s big plans to have a bunch of local shithead preps come into the bar.
    Let’s see if they ever return again.
    For the next half hour, I spend my time ignoring anyone who isn’t a usual at Outlaws. Fuck them—if Smith wants them served, he should do it himself and crawl out of the office. I whistle and pour beers, and I’m happier than I’ve been in days.
    The front door to the bar opens, and a group of college-aged girls step in, their eyes blinking wide as they check out the place.
    And then my heart gives a strange lurch—in the back of the group is Brooklyn.

Brooklyn
    T he moment I walk into Outlaws, with the loud metal music blasting, the smell of beer pungent in the air, the clusters of rowdy people shoving each other and giving blaring laughs, I know I’m out of my element.
    I’ve never experienced a place like this before. Something so wild and out of control. I can see why Jax loves working here—it seems right up his alley. Is this really what he’s like? I can’t help but wonder. And remember how he was last time I saw him, lying naked in my bed, his eyes so vulnerable, him sharing things about his past.
    The Jax I see at the bar isn’t like that at all. He’s serving drinks, giving coy winks, flirty smiles. And people are responding to it, clamoring for more, like moths to a flame. The same way he draws me.
    My chest tightens in a flare of jealousy. I try to ignore the feeling, but it won’t go away. Jax isn’t mine, I remind myself. Just because we shared something new to me doesn’t mean it was that meaningful to him. I’m sure he’s gone down on a bunch of girls.
    The thought turns my stomach.
    “Come on, Brooklyn,” my friend Dianna says with a squeal. She tugs my hand and leads me toward the bar. “This place is fucking awesome! I bet we could find some hotties to hook up with.”
    “For sure,” I murmur, pretending I’m not feeling off balance. Like I haven’t been replaying what we did over and over again the last few days.
    Jax’s eyes land on me, and when I see the desire in his eyes, my heart has that strong surge of emotion I felt earlier. He gives me a warm smile.
    Could this attitude he’s showing while behind the bar be just a business façade? Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, making assumptions about his feelings or what he thinks about me and what happened between us. After all, he is at work. And to make tips, he needs to be social.
    Embarrassment swirls in my stomach. God, I’m overemotional. This isn’t like me. I press a hand to my belly and proceed forward with Dianna and Jennifer, the other friend we brought here.
    An hour ago, we were sitting in the dorm lobby, eating Doritos, and they both jumped up and said they wanted to go out to a fun bar. Of course, since I