Page 33 of Four Seconds to Lose

“That’s Storm,” Ginger confirms. “She used to live here. We tended bar together a lot.” She steps forward to give the woman a hug. When she peels back, Ginger’s hands instantly move to the woman’s belly. “You’re starting to show!”

Storm’s ponytail wags as she dips her head in a giggle. “I know! Much earlier than I did with Mia. I’m going to be a whale by my third trimester.”

“You look as beautiful as always, sweetheart,” Cain says. The beaming grin hasn’t left his face. “What are you doing here?”

The happy smile is transformed into one of sadness as sorrow enters her tone. “Dropping off some soup for Mrs. Potterage.” Storm sighs. “She’s not doing well. The cancer has spread. I just figured that I’d help however I can, after how much she helped me with Mia.” There’s a pause and then Storm sticks her hand out in my direction, introducing herself formally. “Hi, I’m Nora. But everyone still calls me Storm.”

I accept it with a polite nod. “Charlie.”

“Charlie,” she repeats, her bright blue eyes twinkling. Really, there’s nothing not beautiful about this woman. From her perfectly straight white teeth, to her glowing skin, to her wide, heartwarming smile, to the fact that she’s delivering soup to a dying woman.

“Looks like you’re moving in here?” She eyes my things, still sitting by the gate. Aside from the clothes I desperately need to dry clean—pricey designer dresses that Sam bought for me as going-away gifts—everything is running through a scalding laundry cycle before a single thread enters my new apartment.

“Into 1-D,” Tanner answers for me.

Storm’s eyes widen with excitement as she looks at the super. “Trent’s old place!”

“Yes, but vastly improved since that joker lived there,” Tanner teases.

She shakes her head and laughs. “Wait till I tell him.” By their easy banter, I can tell he must have liked having her as a tenant. That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure Tanner doesn’t complain much about having a bunch of hot strippers living in his building.

Reaching up to squeeze Cain’s elbow, Storm murmurs, “Make sure you swing by. Soon. Everyone would love to see you.”

“I’ll be there for the wedding,” Cain confirms.

Storm’s shaking head tells me she disapproves. “Not soon enough.”

Cain’s head dips as he chuckles at her. It’s such a boyish gesture and so odd on him. I like seeing it. Storm must too, because she starts to giggle and squeezes his arm. Again. They touch each other an awful lot.

“Will you be working at Penny’s, Charlie?” Storm asks.

I nod.

“Well...” Her hand—again—slides up and down Cain’s arm. “I can say that you’ve lucked out. Cain’s a dream boss.”

I feel the heat crawl up my cheeks. I’d gladly replace my nightmares with dreams of Cain. But the words dream and Cain in one sentence stir nervousness in my stomach to the point where I’m afraid anything that comes out of my mouth will sound inappropriate. So I simply press my lips together and offer her a smile.

“All right already.” Cain shakes his head, with a look of sheepishness that just doesn’t fit his typical facade.

With a wink, Storm announces, “Well, I need to pick Mia up from her play date and start dinner. Enjoy the new place, Charlie.”

“I’m sure I will.” I watch her skirt and her hair swish in tandem as she strolls away, humming softly, thinking how nice she really is. That could be me, in a few years. In my new life.

With that, Tanner leads us into 1-D, jingling a large set of keys to get the door open. As I step in, I’m immediately hit with a blast of cool air and I can’t help but tip my head back and close my eyes, sighing.

Cain chuckles next to me. “A new owner bought the building two years ago and spent some money improving things, including retrofitting for central air.”

I feel myself frown without meaning to. A new owner? “I thought you own this complex?”

A sharp glare thrown Ginger’s way tells me that maybe she wasn’t supposed to mention that to me. Hmm... interesting. Another layer of mystery to the already puzzling Cain.

“The place was just remodeled,” Tanner cuts in, opening the oven and peering in as if expecting something inside. The apartment is pristine from what I can see—the energy-efficient labels are still on the appliances and the air smells of fresh paint and carpet fiber. I highly doubt any residents of the six-legged variety are allowed to stay.

“Jeez, when is my place being renovated?” Ginger chirps, poking her head into what looks like the bathroom, based on the tile wall beyond the door. “I think I need to swap with Charlie. You know, seniority rules.”

This place may as well be the Ritz-Carlton, compared to the dive I relegated myself to for the past month. The very idea that I don’t have to imagine a line of roaches doing the conga along my kitchen counter while I sleep lets the tension in my back slide out. But... “I think this place is a bit out of my price range.” A self-induced below-poverty-level one; but one, all the same.

Cain settles a sharp gaze on me. “How much was your last place?”

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