Page 34 of Brazen Mistakes

“It’s going to take more than a day. More than a week. Probably more than a month before you can do a passable lift. You’re doing fine,” he says, plucking the wallet from me and tucking it back into the baggy jacket pocket I’ve been trying to lift it from for the past hour.

Walker sprawls across the couch, sketchbook in hand, fingers covered in charcoal. “I’m not sure a clean lift is the best plan.”

“How so?” Jansen asks.

“She should use what she’s got. Distraction might suit her better than finesse. She’s good atdistractions.”

His eyes shine with laughter, and I know he’s remembering my impromptu dance moves in Chicago. I flip my hair over my shoulder, feigning swagger. “You’re right, Walker. I am quite good at distractions. Practically the queen of them.”

He laughs, Jansen looking between us. “I’m not sure pretending I was high was that funny, guys.”

We both burst into laughter. “We were talking about a different time,” I manage between chuckles.

“When? Where? Why wasn’t I there?”

Walker tells him all about my dance moves, and I see an opening with Jansen’s attention focused on the story. I press myself against his side, one hand banding around his waist while I dip the other into his pocket. It’s most of the way out, but the last corner catches on the material, tugging it just enough for Jansen to snatch my wrist again. “Better. Good job! Walker might be onto something.”

“I don’t think that move would work on my father,” Trips announces from the doorway of the living room, casual in sweats and a tight long-sleeved shirt that makes my mouth water. Among other things.

Feisty bitch down there.

I hand the wallet back to Jansen. “I’d like to see you lift a wallet, Trips.”

“I’d just knock the bastard out and take it from him.”

Walker and Jansen both sputter while I turn to face him straight on. “I don’t think that would work on your sister Mattie.”

His eyes narrow. “Mattie would just give it to me. No violence needed.”

“She didn’t sound that obedient over the phone on Christmas.”

He shakes his head, coming farther into the room. “Do you have time for another lesson?”

I check my phone. “I have work in thirty, so I probably should go change.”

All three guys stare at me. “What?”

“Why are you still working at the coffee shop?” Walker asks.

“Where else would I work?”

“For us,” Jansen says.

“I still need to pay rent. And books aren’t cheap.”

“What happened to what you got from Chicago?” Trips asks.

“I paid down the interest on my student loans so it can’t get added to the total when I graduate.”

Trips is the first one to laugh at me. I’m ready to tear him a new one—a finance major shouldn’t be so judgmental about paying down debt. Then the other two join him. “What?” I ask. “Why is this so funny?”

Trips recovers first. “Clara, this is my fault. I should have clarified the terms of employment. My bad. But you don’t need to work anymore. Not at a fucking coffee shop, that’s for sure.”

I tug at the sleeves of my shirt. “I don’t understand, Trips. But I have to get going.”

When I return in jeans and a sweater, my coat and boots in hand, I find Trips waiting for me. “Want a lift?”

“It’s five blocks.”

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