Page 55 of Finding Our Reality

She hides her smile behind her coffee cup. “Oh, I beg to differ.” Her eyes flicker to a corner table, near the front door, where two white-haired women are giving me the evil eye. Lulu laughs, choking on her drink. Some spittle flies out of her mouth, and she quickly wipes her face with the back of her hand.

She missed some. I step closer, reaching out with my thumb to wipe the brown drop from her stubborn little chin. The electricity from her body sizzles through my fingertips and into my chest.

“Crutch?” The girl behind the counter holds my cup out to me. Reluctantly, I pull away and grab it.

“You didn’t tell me you still come here.” She plants a hand on her curvy, luscious hip, drawing attention to her bare legs.

Spring weather means bare legs. Which means trouble for me. “Nope.”

“Don’t wanna be known as a coffee snob? Marcum’s brew at the station not cutting it anymore?”

“We all know his coffee tastes like burnt tobacco. I have no idea how he even messes it up. Coffee is pretty self-explanatory.”

She reaches around me and grabs a napkin. “That’s why I stick to water at the station.”

“Speaking of, are you heading that way now? I’ll walk you out.”

“No, I’ve got a few things to finish here first,” she says weakly. Her fingers tangle through her hair, fondling her scar.

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Lulu, are you here by yourself?”

“No.”

“No?” My voice cracks like a teenager going through puberty. Instinctively, I glance back toourtable and see the back of a guy’s head. “Who’s that?”

She shrugs. “Just a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?”

My jaw works back and forth. Damn, I can’t help myself, I wanna rip this guy’s head off. “Why are you being so elusive? Who the hell is that?”

“I told you. A friend.”

“Well, I consider myself your friend. Let’s have an introduction, shall we?”

Her mouth falls open. I’m already five paces closer to the table when my cell phone rings. Gritting my teeth, I glance at the caller ID—Colson. I can’t ignore it; I have to answer.

Sure enough, we have a call.

I guess I’ll have to host my pissing match some other time.

Although, there better not be another time. I don’t know who this friend is, but I can tell from the back of his head that it’s not Holt, Will, Cullen, Ray, or Marcum.

And I don’t like this stranger sitting atourtable.

I spin around, planting my body right in front of Lulu. My chest grazes against hers. She tries not to react. But she does. I see it. I feel it. “We have that interview with Tyler today. Say goodbye to your little friend and get your fine ass to the station.”

Exaggerated sarcasm drips through her voice like the slow coffee drip behind the counter. “Why, Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Says the girl who rolls her eyes.”

“I do not roll my eyes.”

“Why don’t we find Peyton and ask her if that’s true or not?”

Lulu leans forward, whispering in my ear. She knows I love it when her hot breath sends a chill down my spine. “Fuck Peyton.”

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