Page 22 of Wicked Games

With Grandad not an option, the only thing I could think to do was sell my car. Not wanting to deal with another text from Joe, I put my phone on silent and set it on the nightstand. After getting ready for bed, I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes.

I needed to sleep on it, then I would decide. Undoubtedly, going into business with Joe was a bad idea, but he’d offered an olive branch to build a relationship with.

Dammit.I had to find the money. One way or another.

CHAPTER NINE

WINTER

Adoor slammed, then a body hit the side of my bed. I jolted awake to Piper giggling as she picked herself up off the floor. It was dark in our room, and I squinted at the time—four in the morning. My tension from being woken eased as I tracked her form while she found her bed then flopped face down on it. The stench of stale beer permeated the air. I guessed we weren’t going for coffee like she’d said, not with how hungover and passed out she would most likely be all day. Annoyed, I flipped the covers over my head.

Hours later, I showered and ignored the chain saw snoring coming from Piper. I tried to be quiet but quickly realized that it didn’t matter. She slept through it all. A sliver of irritation found its way through me at how I’d woken to find the box of Mom’s letters I’d stashed under the bed spilled onto the floor between us. Piper must have caught her toe on the edge of it. Even picking them up soured my mood. I didn’t want the reminder, especially first thing in the morning.

I glanced around the room at my made bed and laptop that I’d stowed in the still-open middle drawer of my desk after finishing my homework. I slammed it shut and checked to see if Piper woke. Nope. I doubted even a car crashing through the side of our building could rouse her.

I’d waited long enough. Piper wasn’t going to wake up. I needed caffeine desperately, and since my bank account was almost empty, a job wouldn’t hurt. I left, catching the door on my way out and closing it so it didn’t slam, then took the stairs down to the main floor.

Once outside, I breathed in the fresh air. It was still warm enough out that I was comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. I tilted my face to the sun, loving the warmth.

With it being Sunday, there weren’t as many people out. Most were probably still in bed, sleeping off a hangover or enjoying how they didn’t have to wake to an alarm. As I left the campus and, after a few blocks, entered the town, I window-shopped. A bath-and-body store had handmade soaps and lotions in the window. I could smell a hint of lavender when a patron left the shop, the bell jingling overhead. We exchanged smiles, and I moved on. I had no business spending money on things I didn’t need.

My walk to the Spot didn’t take long. I opened the door and breathed deeply the heavenly scent of roasted beans. The place was packed, as usual. After I placed my order, I asked for a job application and found a seat along the live-edge bar that ran the length of the window to the left of the door.

The buzz of conversation swirled around me as I took my first sip. The caffeine hit my system with a jolt, engaging my brain enough to read over the application. I pulled a pen out of my purse and got to work filling it out. By the time I finished my drink, I’d completed the form and handed it to Becky, the store manager.

I stood there while she skimmed it. She flipped her dark, curly hair over her shoulder with one hand then met my gaze. “You worked as a barista for the last year and a half in Los Angeles?” She smiled at my nod. “When can you start?”

“Anytime.” Excitement that it was going well grew inside me.

“How about now?”

My brows rose, but I quickly wiped the shock off my features. “Sure.”

“Great.” Becky’s smile widened. “One of our baristas called in sick, and we’re short-staffed.” She crooked her finger at the cashier with pink cheeks and flyaway hairs sticking out of her drooping ponytail. “Anne here will show you the ropes while I process your application. I just need your driver’s license.”

I rooted in my purse until I found my ID and handed it to her. Then I dove into bar work, making drinks like I’d worked there for years rather than minutes, and Anne shed the haggardness she’d worn before I’d started. We fell into a rhythm. I lost time, happy that I had a job and some money that would hit my account come payday.

A few more customers came in, and I glanced at the clock. I had another hour on my shift, then I would check in on Piper. I managed pretty well on bar, even with the drinks I had to look up in the recipe book Becky stashed under the counter for me. Or I had managed until he walked in—all mysterious and sexy. My body heated with the memory of being pressed against him as he kissed me last night, and I was instantly distracted.

He filled the entryway. His friends did, too, but I only had eyes for him. The room seemed to shrink from him being there, taking up too much space with his smoldering presence.

I glanced around, noting I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Girls, and even guys, trailed their every move with intent gazes. I had to tear my gaze from him before the coffee I was making ran over the cup and burned me.

The air felt charged, and my heart raced from anticipation. I sensed the moment his gaze settled on me. My fingers tingled, and my breath came quicker. He affected me entirely too much, but I loved it. That was what I’d missed, and I would definitely let myself experience whatever happened next.

Not only that, but with him there, I wouldn’t have to embarrass myself and ask who he was.Finally, I’ll know his name.

He and the three other guys who had come in with him settled into line, he behind them. Anne took their orders, and when he was up, I tried to be within hearing distance, but the coffee machine was too loud. He placed an order, and when I pulled the ticket off the machine, I had a name to go with the gorgeous guy—Landon. Weird, I didn’t picture that as his name, not that I had a clue, but whatever. I shook off the odd note that sounded in my mind.

I made the other guys’ drinks, which were easy compared to the mocha nonfat, triple shot, with no foam and the other order that were extra.

Another wave of people came in. Anne was fast with taking orders, and I finished up the guys’ drinks, set them on the counter, and called their names to pick them up. One by one, they did, all huge guys that I barely paid attention to. They sat at a table off to the left.

The last one, I allowed myself a small break in making drinks. After I made Landon’s drink, I set it in front of him at the counter. No one stood in line, for a change, and I flattened my palms on the cool surface. Three tickets waited, but I would get to them shortly.

I spared a minute to take him in—the wicked smirk and mischievous look dancing in his dark-blue eyes told me he had some thoughts where I was concerned too. I wanted to know them.

His large hand curled around the to-go cup. “Thanks, Winter.”

---