Seven on thebutton Shep texts and lets me know he’s at the base of my dormitory, Prescott Hall.
Harley pulls me back by the elbow. Her hair is neatly curled in long, thick coils, and her makeup is a bit more dramatic than usual. She’s going frat house hopping with Teagan and Colby, the roommates next door who she seems to be spending more and more time with.
“Are you sure about this? This guy was all over you at the club. What if he gets you to his place and has his way with you?”
A laugh bubbles from my throat. “Shep is not going to have his way with me. He’s like family.” My gut explodes in a ball of acid at the lie. “Okay, so he’s like a really hot friend—sort of.” Again, my body spikes with heat as if I just spewed another lie in an effort to cover something deliciously dirty up.
Harley rolls her eyes. Those lashes of hers are so long they have a zip code of their own. “A hot friend who’s offered to take you to his place and liquor you up!”
“No, notme. I’m making a drink for the bar. And for the record, he was totally kidding. It was my bright idea to hold up the liquor store.”
She sucks in a quick breath. “Sounds like he’s a bad influence on you.”
“You missed the part about it beingmyidea.”
“Then you’re the bad influence.” She gives a devilish wink before brushing the hair off my shoulders. “Fine. Go on and have a good time with your hot friend.”
I slap her away. “Trust me, we’re not really friends. In fact, when you get right down to it, he’s nothing more than my professor who I’m heading to a seedy liquor store with.” I give a simple shrug as I bolt out the door, laughing. “Kidding! I promise to avoid and evade all hovels who specialize in housing ethanol!”
“Serena!” Harley calls after me. “You realize you’re breaking every moral code this school has to offer!”
“I’ll think up a few more to break before the day is done!” And yet not one of them will be with Shep.
But those kisses he doled out… my lips are begging for just one more hit.
I climb into Shep’s fancy ride, and we head up the main road and make a left, landing us at a rather dicey locale that I just promised my roomie I’d avoid like the bathroom of the Black Bear on taco night.
“George’s Liquor Store?” I look at Shep, and my heart thumps once unnaturally. His dark hair is slicked back. He’s traded the monkey suit for dark inky jeans and a flannel, and to the undiscerning eye he might qualify as your run-of-the-mill frat boy. But that face, those smoking blue eyes, thosebedroomeyes—my God, if his lids hood any lower, he might actually fall asleep. Shep Collins is undeniably gorgeous. This isn’t really news to me, but according to the way my girl parts are pulsating out of control, you’d think I’d just stumbled upon fire for the very first time. And, believe you me, playing around with Shep would very much be like playing with fire.
“Yes, the liquor store. Where did you think I was taking you?”
“I don’t know. I thought we’d grab some takeout, then head back to your place and discuss the case. We’ve got information to exchange, remember?”
“Yes, Detective Maxfield, I do.”
My insides heat with the newly gifted moniker.
He winces. “But a part of me wanted to help you out with your project for the Black Bear.” He gives my knee a gentle tap as he opens his door. “Come on. I’m buying.”
We head on in, and Shep loads up a cart with several brown bottles of every shape, size, and sexual connotation—i.e., brand names such as Badass Bodacious Bourbon, The Other Woman Whiskey, Scantily Scotch, Threesome Tequila. I’m embarrassed at how non-proficient I am in my hard liquor, considering the fact I work at a bar. But being that I’m technically underage, I’m not allowed to serve it. Either one of the bartenders or Baya does it for me.
Shep continues to fearlessly load the cart before we make our way to the counter.
“Party tonight?” A jovial older gentleman with a triple chin and a nametag that spells out GEORGE in all caps helps bag our bronzed and boozy treasures. “A wedding maybe?”
I suck in a breath and smack Shep on the arm. “We forgot something!” I scurry around the tiny shop until I find my own golden treasure and haul it back to the counter with me.
“Honey?” Shep inspects it a moment before handing it to the clerk.
“What better time for a little hot honey renaissance?”
“Good call.”
“Honey,” the clerk elongates the word as if he’s selling peanuts during the seventh inning stretch. “I’m starting to think this is a private party.” He offers up a devious wink.
“That’s right.” I thread my arm through Shep’s. “Professor Collins asked if I was up for some extra credit. And, seeing that he’s threatened to fail me unless I lick his bits and pieces, I figured I might as well sweeten the pot for myself. Who knows what else he’ll have me doing once he’s liquored me up? I’ve been keeping myself limber all week just the way he suggested.”
Poor George’s mouth falls open as he takes Shep’s credit card and closes out the transaction. “I’d say have fun, but I suspect at least one of you will.”
