Page 26 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

“No, we didn’t track you,” Connor replied. “We may have found one of your work shirts on top of your bag—”

“What did you do to my clothes?” I went stiff. “What the hell did you do to my clothes? Not itching powder again. That stuff is really bloody hard to get out, you know.”

“We didn’t do anything to your clothes.” Connor looked genuinely upset I’d jump to that conclusion, but hey, trauma does what it does. “We needed to work out where you were so we could give you this.”

He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and slid them across the counter.

“What’s that?”

“A trade,” Gage said. “You give us the keys to that death… car of yours, and you can drive the van around until we get your car fixed.”

“I’m not giving you Daisy.”

My arms crossed my chest.

“We could break into Daisy, hot wire her in about two point three seconds, and have her on the road to the mechanics without you even knowing it,” Connor replied, then pushed his keys closer. “This way you still have a car to drive.”

“A safe one…” Van muttered.

“I don’t need—” I started to splutter.

“Yes, you do.” Gage looked like he was going to rip a guy’s throat out moments ago, but now those hazel eyes were all soft and warm as a big cup of hot chocolate. His stare went on and on before an ooh sound from the guys had him shaking his head. “The car is fucked, Ken—”

“It gets me from A to B.”

“We’d like to make sure that is a certainty, all right?” Connor said. “And anyway, what the fuck is Finn doing, letting you drive that piece of shit around?”

I was just about to come on board with the idea because hell, if they wanted to spend their time and money on my car, I wasn’t about to stop them, but then they had to mention my brother.

“Bold of you to assume he gives the slightest shit what I do.” I moved to the coffee machine, but to do what, I didn’t know. They hadn’t given me their order yet, but I moved anyway, pouring out a few long black coffees. I remembered that Van had said Connor liked his super milky, so I made three of them, adding some extra milk to his before shoving the mugs their way. “Finn and I never really got along when we were kids, so why would we willingly spend time around each other now?” I pushed the pastries in their paper bags towards them. “So was it just the coffee and the pastries?”

Connor nodded slowly.

“Just a few more of those,” he said, nodding to the coffees, “and enough pies and sausage rolls to feed a horse.”

“A whole herd of them,” Van sighed, pulling out a credit card. “And some vanilla slices, lamingtons…”

I fell into the rhythm of the job, which helped block everything out. The lure of the kitchen, the fact that I would’ve iced the cakes a whole lot differently, taking care to add some pretty little details that elevated the offerings, even the guys. I grabbed everything they asked for and then rang the lot up, telling them the total.

“Put it on the card,” Van said, “and a little something for yourself.”

“We don't do tips here,” I said, taking his card and tapping it for him before handing it and the receipt back.

“Then let us fix your damn car.”

Connor seemed way too intense; they all did. There was something almost desperate in his gaze, which I couldn’t stand looking at for long. I shoved my hand in my pocket and handed them over.

“Thank you for offering to fix my damn car,” I shot back. “Now, if there’s not anything else?”

They turned to see the line that was starting to form behind them and collected their orders.

“We’ll see you tonight then,” he said, right before they moved away.

“Yeah, you will!” one of his guys shouted from the tables, the lot cackling like a bunch of old biddies. I paid them no mind, turning to the next customer with a smile.

Chapter 15

Connor

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