Page 63 of Rule the Night
Cassie’s Cuppa was packedwith late-afternoon patrons when I walked in after my shift at Lushberry. It was one of my favorite spots, with big windows facing Main Street, plenty of tables, and enough houseplants to make the place feel like coffee at a friend’s house instead of a coffee shop.
I spotted Bailey right away, waving like a maniac by the window. She looked great, her dark blonde hair blown out, her makeup impeccable.
She practically tackled me when I reached the table. “Oh my god, I’vemissedyou.”
I laughed. “I missed you too.”
We still texted almost every day, but my first three weeks with the Butchers had offered up plenty of distractions. Between the constant cooking (I’d never metanyonewho could eat as much as my three new roommates), work, and the increasing challenge of keeping my hands off Poe, I had my hands full.
No pun intended.
Plus there was my constant tracking of Ethan Todd and the file I was accumulating on the details of his move back to theStates, just in case I lost another Hunt and had to try and deal with him myself.
Again.
At least June’s car had been fixed (to the tune of $600). I had a feeling it was on its last legs, but that was a problem for another time.
“I got your coffee and one of those scones you like,” she said.
“Ugh, you’re an angel.” I took a seat across from her and smoothed the floral miniskirt (bought from the summer clearance collection with my employee discount) that I’d paired with a simple red T-shirt and ankle boots.
I took a drink of the coffee, eager for the caffeine to hit my system. I’d been up since six a.m., making homemade tortillas for huevos rancheros (hold the tortillas and beans for Remy), and had popped a cake in the oven for dessert that night.
Remy wouldn’t eat the cake for obvious reasons, and neither would Bram for less obvious reasons (the man clearly had a sweet tooth but so far he’d refused even my most decadent treats), but Poe loved my desserts. Plus I had to admit that I was enjoying being back in the kitchen again.
Bailey and I spent the next hour catching up. She was dating someone but it was still new and she was being careful not to get too excited — practically a credo for every woman dating in the modern age. She missed me in the apartment but had gotten used to watchingLove or Moneyalone, and she was thinking of getting a cat and wanted my buy-in since I’d be back eventually.
She was clearly lonely, eager to spill the tea on all the stuff that was too hard to share via text, and I felt bad all over again for bailing on her.
“So?” she asked when she’d finally run out of steam. “How’s it going for you? Really?”
“It’s not as bad as I expected.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. So far, I hadn’t been subjected to any kind of physical torture —unless you counted the fact that I was increasingly horny and forced to live around three hotter-than-hot inked men, one of whom had a penchant for nude meditation.
“Are you lying?”
I shook my head. “I just cook. Like, a lot.”
So far my days had consisted of waking up early, avoiding Poe while he meditated ass-naked on the balcony, prepping food for dinner, working, eating, and stalking Ethan Todd online. Sometimes I ate in the dining room with the Butchers, but just as often I took my food to my room where I watched Ethan Todd’s latest videos, compared notes with the girls in our encrypted chat, and catalogued the gossip about his movements in online chat forums.
I’d also been doing some online recon of the Warwick Hotel and planning my own trip into the city.
Bailey’s gaze dropped to the gold collar around my neck. “Are they going to make you wear that the whole time?”
“I don’t know,” I said, touching my fingers to the collar. “I forget about it most of the time.”
She frowned. “You shouldn’t.”
I sighed. “It’s just part of it.”
I didn’t want to argue about my deal with the Butchers. It was what it was.
I was grateful when she changed the subject.
“And you’re still working?”
“Yep. I don’t really have time for much else. They eat a lot.”
“What are they like?” she asked.
