Page 94 of Best Served Cold

We get the cheesiest-looking bouquet we can find. We have just over four dollars left. It’s hopefully enough to buy the ribbon, but there aren’t any available here, so we have to cross the street to a different grocery store to continue our quest.

There are only a few rolls, and the cheapest—gray—costs $4.99.

“What are we going to do?” I ask.

Rob tsks. “I know you want to have some bad-girl fun, Soph, but I’m not shoplifting with you.”

I glance around nervously, my heart pounding, to see if anyone heard, and notice an older woman looking up at us from a display of faith-based birthday cards.

“He was kidding,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat.

“Nope, definitely not kidding. She’s averybad girl.”

The woman stuffs the card into the pocket of her coat and hurries away.

“You think she just shoplifted because of us?” Rob asks conversationally.

I surprise myself by laughing, giving his chest a playful push. The feeling of it beneath my fingers is familiar now, and an ache forms between my legs.

“You’re terrible,” I say.

“And yet you keep coming back for more. Do you happen to have any ribbon at home?”

“It would ruin the game.”

“What if we buy another scratcher to see if we can add to our fund?” he asks with a sly grin. “If we win, we’ll still be using our luck fund.”

He’s willing to play along, and a delicious warmth fills me. There’s no question he’s doing it for me.

“Okay, but we have to buy the ticket with the leftover money. It’s essential.”

“If you insist.”

We buy a single lottery ticket. The moment the cashier hands it to Rob, I swipe it out of his hands and dash to the nearest flat surface, a wall just a few feet away, and pull out Rob’s lucky guitar pick.

He watches me, grinning when he notices the pick.

“I’ll give it back,” I say, unconsciously wrapping my fingers around it. “That’s why I was carrying it around.”

“I don’t want it back,” he says. “I want you to carry my luck for me, Soph. I trust it more with you.”

My heart tries to grow. “Do you still have that penny? If so, you’re holding onto my bad luck. That hardly seems fair.”

He grins at me. “That’s a lot of significance to put on a penny, but you’re right. It’s in my wallet, and nothing could convince me to part with it.”

Maybe he wouldn’t say so if he knew everything. But I keep that thought to myself. Because if he were to blame me the way my parents did…

I don’t think I’d have the strength to share my secret with anyone else, ever again. At the same time, Iwanthim to know. I want Hannah and Briar to know too. In some ways, they won’t feel like they’re fully mine until they do.

“We don’t have all day, barkeep,” he says, and I realize I’ve been standing there like a statue, the lotto ticket pressed to the wall.

I read the instructions, which feel overly complicated, and then get to scratching.

Turning toward Rob, I toggle up and down a little on my feet, feeling carried away by the current of him. “We won five dollars, and it only cost two-fifty. We can buy the ugly ribbon.”

He barks out a laugh, pulls me to him one-handed, and kisses the top of my head. The gesture is so natural, so sweet, it undoes me.

Jonahnevertouched me like this. His displays of affection were always about showboating or initiating sex. Isn’t it ironic that this thing with Robisa show, basically, with a sprinkling of friends with benefits, but it feels more real?

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