He slides his gaze to me, eyes at half-mast. Since he looks like his twin far too much now, I look away. The twins might look alike, but Declan’s demeanor is different from Connor’s.
“I’ll make it fit,” Connor says and bumps the car behind us, then the one in the front. The SUV keeps bumping the two cars until we’re perfectly parked between them.
As if he hadn’t just destroyed people’s cars Connor crushes his candy and chews before leaving the white stick in the small trash can in the car.
“Wait for me to open the door for you.”
Oh, that’s nice. I nod.
Once out, Connor stretches like a lazy tomcat. The jacket lifts and sunlight reflects off the golden grips of his guns. I wonder if the reason he stretched was to show whoever might be following us that he’s armed.
Since we parked bumper to bumper, there’s no space to walk between the cars. Connor slides over the hood of our SUV and lands on my side to open the door for me.
“Very cool,” I say. He executed that move like a graceful leopard. If I tried, I would probably end up looking more like a reckless elephant.
On a normal workday, I park in the hospital’s underground parking garage since my friend Tris and I often carpool, and she sticks her hospital staff parking permit on my window. Then I grab whatever things I need to carry into the salon and slam the car door with my foot before I cross the street, hoping a car doesn’t hit me.
Usually, I carry multiple bags or boxes, so when I arrive at the salon door, I have to drop everything onto the sidewalk, unlock the door, and then pick everything back up, hoping nothing falls out and breaks.
Today, I just walk up to my store.
Which has an eviction notice taped to the door.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Connor reads it, takes a step back, and says, “Stand aside.” He reaches for the gun.
I catch his arm. “No, wait.” I take out a hairpin. “I’ve got this.” I drop to one knee and push the pin into the lock. I turn my head to the side because I need to hear the click. Some peoplecan break into places with a touch, but I have to hear the telltale click.
Connor crouches next to me, his face split in a grin so wide that both dimples show. “Are we breaking and entering?”
“I guess you could say that.”Click.Got it. Yay. My youth didn’t all go to waste.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks.
“My friend, who was a watchmaker. He would fix watches and locks, anything with a mechanism that’s manual.”
We walk in, and the stale air bothers me. I prop the front door open to let in some fresh air.
“Like a safe?” Connor asks.
“What?”
“Your friend liked mechanisms. Ever see him open a safe?”
“Plenty of times.”
Connor seems impressed. “Nice.”
I grab the brushes from the drawer and lay them out on the counter. “Why? Are you interested in breaking into a safe?”
“No, I’m interested in thievery, and for that, I need a lock master. Is he still around?”
I shrug. “I could probably find out.” Two blow dryers. Two straighteners. A curling iron. “Where is that thing?”
“What are we looking for?”
“Never mind. Got it.” I add the curling iron to the pile of stuff on the counter. I’ll need a bag. My professional hairdresser bag is in my apartment. Can’t have that. But years ago, at some event or maybe it was bingo, I won a bag that’s big enough. I think I stored it in the back.
