Every time Jax came behind the bar, Aimee monopolized his attention when she could. And like every night before, he must’ve been ridiculously funny about things, because not a minute passed where Aimee wasn’t laughing loudly. Or flipping her hair over her shoulder. Or leaning on the bar, giving Jax and Roxy at times a clear shot at her boobage.

And every so often, like the last four days, Jax would catch my eyes, give me a look, and I wouldn’t care about Aimee sitting at the bar, doing everything possible to get some return flirt action.

Then again, I figured Jax could put an end to Aimee’s attempt by telling her he wasn’t available. I mean, we hadn’t given each other labels, but we were together in every way we could be together.

And . . . and I loved him, so whatever. We were together.

He hadn’t said those words to me, but I hadn’t, either. And I wasn’t going to think about that right now or make a big deal out of it. In spite of all the stuff, I was actually kind of happy and it was Saturday with no sign of Mack.

I would not ruin this.

Taking the order of Old Bay chicken wings to Melvin’s table, I grinned at the old man as I placed the basket between them. “Here you go. Anything else?”

“We’re good.” The skin around his eyes settled into deep grooves as he grinned. “As long as you give us another one of those smiles.”

I laughed. “You old flirt.”

He chuckled as he snatched up a chicken wing. “If I was twenty years younger, you and I would be cuttin’ up that floor.”

An eyebrow rose. Twenty years? I’d have to go with double that, but what he said made me smile and also made me say, “Whenever you want to dance, you let me know.”

I almost couldn’t believe I said that, but his dim eyes seemed to glimmer. “I’ll do that.”

Sending him another one of “those smiles,” I turned and started toward another table where their glasses were looking empty, and before I knew, I stole a peek up at the bar.

Roxy was full-out dragon bartender, shaking a cocktail shaker so hard I expected the contents to fly around the bar. My gaze shifted to where Aimee sat and my eyes widened.

What the . . . ?

Aimee was practically sitting on the bar and her hands were on Jax’s cheeks, on his cheeks. She was cupping his cheeks. Anger pricked along my skin, but something small and icy and ugly formed in the pit of my stomach, and that small and icy and ugly thing caused my chest to clench in a not pleasant way. Because why—why in the hell—would she be touching him like that and why—why in the holy hell—would Jax be allowing that?

Before I knew it, I was starting toward the bar. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got there, but I was sure it was not going to be pretty and I might regret it later, but screw—