“So, what should I call you?Evie?” Her brows twitch with amusement. Lex has a cutting beauty. You can tell from one look she’s a take-no-prisoners, hang-’em-by-the-balls kind of girl, and a part me has always admired a self-reliant badass like Lex. Basically, I think we all want to be Lex when wegrowup.
“My name is Harlow—but Low isjustfine.”
“Does Raven know you have the hots for herbrother?”
“Would you shush?!” I swat her over the arm while scanning the place for signs of Levi. “It’s sort of a new revelation, and no, she doesn’t know, nor will she. She specifically instructed me to stay awayfromhim.”
“Pft. That’s reverse psychology at itsfinest.”
“Oh no, Raven means it. Did all that BS that went down between him and his soon-to-be-ex not register? He really has had a shit ride. I can see why she wants toprotecthim.”
Her lips twitch to and fro as if she were struggling to tie a cherry stem into a knot. “I have an older brother—a far too protective older brother so I totally get it. You don’t need to tell me how siblings can get in the way of things.” Her gaze cuts to the floor a moment, and I speculate he had something to do with the great demise of Axel and Lex. “So, what’s the baby’s name?” She shudders as if glad to change thetopic.
“Maxwell—named after their dead father. It’s the exact name poor Levi wanted to gift his first child, and the snake used itanyway.”
She scoffs at the audacity. “Cheatingsnake.” She glares at the floor again, and now I’m really wondering what the hell happened between her and Axel. She shudders again. “But, regardless, I love the name. She’s got anXin there somewhere, so already she’s a winner in my book. I happen to have three of them.” Her face lights up with wicked delight. “Alexa Ximena Maxfield.” She takes a mock bow. “I’m a tripleXthreat.” Clearly, she’s pinned a lot on this alphabeticachievement.
“You’re a threat, all right. So, what’s the deal with you and this guy Axel?” I gasp upon the revelation. “Oh my God! You dated the poor boy because he had anXin his name,didn’tyou?”
She swings a guilty look to the ceiling. “That may have started the crazy train, but believe you me, I was quick to forgive the fact his last name is Collins with noXinsight.”
“Wow. An alphabetic grievance at its highest—you have a heart of gold.” I’m guessing more like coal. “But you’re quite literallyexesat the moment. And I’m just going to be upfront with you. If you dumped the dude because of his last name, that makes you clinicallyinsane.”
“Oh, be quiet.” She shakes out that long crimson mane of hers, and for a moment I have a deep sense of follicular envy. “We’re not together because it’s none of yourbusiness.”
“Hey. I just spilled my entire life out before you like tipping over a jar of marbles. Have I mentioned how much I hate those silver bracelets you gifted me a fewweeksback?”
She cringes. “Okay, I’ll throw you a bone, but that needs to be the end of it. I’m a firm believer in speaking no evil, and believe me, the universe loves to unleash all of the ripe hell that escapes my mouth.” She glares at the sky a moment. “Axel and I dated—undergraduate. Everything was going great until senior year.” Her lips swell, and her eyes gloss over in an instant. She twirls her cup between her fingers, her gaze is set straight into the past as she vegges out while looking through the table. “And that’s it.” She perks right back up. “I’m over it. Who knows, I might even walk into The Sloppy Pelican one day to prove it.” Her left eye twitches as if contestingtheidea.
“Something tells me youwon’t.”
She leans in with her sharp, expensive beauty. “Something tells me you know metoowell.”
Something tells me I’ve just got a standbybestie.
Lex and I exchange numbers, and I run out the door to work my shift at The Sloppy Pelican. I take my sneakers off in the car and exchange them for my Louboutins. I’ve discovered what every waitress worth her salt already knows—a little cleavage and legs-to-there garner me three times the tips than a turtleneck andwedges.
Nobody said life would be fair orcomfortable.
Saturday afternoon,I’m dancing around the kitchen, whipping a batch of chocolatey goodness while blaring “Key Largo”. Brody, the manager—the second partner in The Sloppy Pelican has kindly gifted me the evening shifts, otherwise known as the “show me the money” shift because it yields a ton more in tips than thelunchtimerush.
I spin around with the spatula positioned as a mic while I belt out the lyrics into its chocolate-coated goodness and stop cold when I spot Levi standing in the doorway with his arms folded tight. His hair is damp from the shower, his chest is as wide as the doorway, his legs are parted in a defiant stance, and it gives him a bad boy appeal I’ve always been such a sucker for. His lids are low as if I’ve somehow offended him and he suddenly wants to turn me over on his knee and teach me a lesson. Okay, so that last part might be wishful thinking on my part, but holy hell, the man is hot, and right now, internally, soamI.
“You looking for a fight, or are you just constipated?” I dot the tip of his nose with the spatula, and he wipes it off and licks his finger clean. My God, the look on his face while he sucks down on that finger. All sorts of lewd thoughts kick-start through my brain as I envision him sucking down on a lot more delicate things, and I’d gladly dip them into brownie batter to entice him to do it. I’ve been trying my hardest to deny my budding crush on the six foot three linebacker, blue-eyed, black-haired stud that my so-called best friend has decided is a no-fly zone. If she really loved me, she’d land him on my bed naked with a big fat bow over that package I’m hoping he’llgiftme.
“I’m looking for a date.” He frowns as if he’s not. It’s only then I note that he’s dressed to the nines, sort of—dark inky jeans, dress shirt, and a tie are more or less his go-to wardrobestaples.
“Good luck with that. I’ve got another twenty minutes.” I tick my head toward the oven. I’ll admit that Levi’s state-of-the-art culinary devices have me as hot under the panty line as he does. What girl wouldn’t want to flirt with a virtually unused Wolf oven in her spare time? Not to mention with its owner, although no thanks to Raven I’ve been forced to abstain from that little flirtatiousdetail.
“Perfect. That’s enough time to get dressed. We don’t need to be thereuntilfive.”
“We?” I step in close to Levi Masterpiece, and the scent of his sweet wood-infused cologne renders me useless. “Where pray tell are we headed, Boobear?” Please say my bedroom. Please say my bedroom. I get the feeling Levi Masterson is the type that would bark out orders, and I promise you, I am the type who would leap toeachone.
“My mother’s.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “They christened Maxie a couple of hours ago, and she’s guilting meintoit.”
I suck in a breath. “I’d swat you over the chest with this spatula, but I don’t want to ruin your christening attire. Yes, you should go! My God, you should have gonehoursago and brought me with you! And poor Raven. She’s missing everything.” I do my best to hustle. I tame my hair into submission, paint my face in record speed, and slip into a nice, tight, white dress I’ve been saving for a special somewhat chaste occasion. Lastly, I slip into a pair of pale silver heels that Raven herself lent me, and I happened to never-on-purpose give back. I speed back to the kitchen just in time to pull the brownies out and hit the kill switch on “KeyLargo”.
“I’m ready,” I pant up at Levi who’s standing there with a devilish gleam inhiseyes.
