Tasha, a pair of white cordless headphones nested in her ears, hummed in the back of her throat while scribbling in her notebook.
I had been so wrong about her. She wasn’t shallow. She wasn’t snobby. And she cared. Legitimately cared. After the accident I cared about almost nothing. I still didn’t care. Although that couldn’t be true, could it? I was standing in my new “apartment” and had invited Tasha to join me.
Wonder why?
I stole another glance at her while I unpacked another box. She sat, legs folded beneath her, in a short skirt, low-cut red shirt, and flat shoes she didn’t bother kicking off. She pursed her lips in thought, pushed a few stray strands of blond hair behind her ear, her eyebrows closing in over her nose as she read the textbook on her knee.
She was gorgeous.
And she represented everything in life I thought I’d have by now. She lived the definition of “the good life.” She would graduate this year, probably with honors. She had just moved into her own apartment not over her father’s garage. When she’d shot me down at that party, I’d been at the top of my game. Now she wouldn’t leave me alone and I was at rock bottom. What was it about broken me she liked so damn much?
She came here once a week and fulfilled her obligatory hour with me. She did it for my dad more than the money. He’d asked for her help when the other therapists quit, which hadn’t been well-received by me. I assumed she’d been put on suicide watch, since it felt like she was being paid to babysit me. I wasn’t suicidal but her treating me like a child was a surefire way to lead me to it.
She bit the end of her pen, rolling the barrel over soft-looking pink lips and making me regret, not for the first time, that I’d never found out how they tasted.
Thinking of college reminded me of Brooke, and thinking of Brooke reminded me I wasn’t worth holding onto. Like Brooke, Tasha had expensive clothes and jewelry, and her college was paid for by her father. Unlike Brooke, Tasha was sweet, cared enough about therapy to try and make me do it on occasion, and her perfume… Seriously. The girl smelled incredible.
As if she sensed my silent fascination, she lifted her chin and caught me staring. My eyes went to her throat, to the delicate gold chain with the tiny turtle pendant. I wondered what it meant, if anything.
“Is our time up?” She checked her watch, gold like her necklace with a big face and diamonds. Real ones, I guessed.
“Yeah, work.” No stumbling. Nice. It was a rare treat when words came out like they were supposed to.
“Oh, okay.” She shoved her book into her backpack and unfolded those delicious-looking legs. Then she stood and tugged her skirt down, though it had no prayer of coming close to her knees. I distracted myself by biting my cheek hard enough to make my eyes water.
When she stood from the love seat, we were close. Too close for me to think of anything but kissing her.
“Have a good shift.” She shouldered her bag.
My eyes returned to her lips. I shrugged, not trusting my voice. Not moving or breathing. She lifted her chin and shifted from foot to foot. Waiting. I didn’t trust myself enough to make a move.
“Okay, well, bye.”
I nodded but she’d already turned to leave.
I lingered at the window, watching the driveway for her to appear. She did, her honey-blond hair bouncing against her shoulders. Then she climbed into her brand-new, white, gleaming-in-the-sunshine BMW Z4.
Gorgeous girl. Gorgeous car.
Damn.
Bus tub on my hip, I swept through the dining room of Oak & Sage Restaurant. It was late, the only diners left a table of six taking their sweet-ass time. They were well into their third bottle of wine. A few servers milled around, one of them a tall blonde who sneered at everyone like she might take a bite out of them.
I’d rather be home underneath my car, or even under Tasha’s scrutiny, than this she-wolf’s.
In college, my buddies had labeled me a silver-tongued fox. I had an uncanny ability to convince anyone to give me anything I wanted. Tasha might have been the only exception. The nickname was more than a label—it was also true. I could be convincing. I could make anyone like me. I could also swindle thousands of dollars back when I street raced. My Audi, Blue, brought in more money than she’d cost—and ten times the money I’d made legally over a lifetime.
Until she kissed a fire hydrant.
I totaled Blue while simultaneously totaling myself. Busted up some ribs, sprained my wrist. Broke my foot. I favored it now. Anytime I worked a double shift it throbbed like a bitch by night’s end.
Laughter sounded from the bar as I swiped crumbs from the table I bussed. I cast a glance to where my brother’s girlfriend, Rena, bartended. I liked her. She was nice, super cute with her long, dark hair and ability to spot bullshitters from a mile away. She was a great friend to Tasha and had a streak in her that was pure bad girl. No wonder Dev had fallen for her.
She wiped the bar top with a towel, sending me a quick smile before turning back to the guys finishing their drinks in front of her. My returning smile faded when I took a closer look at those “guys” and realized I knew them.
They were my friends. Former friends. After my accident, they’d reached out one by one but I hadn’t exactly been welcoming. We used to share a future, but now they represented dreams lost. Brian and Miller Dermont were brothers, Carey Grainger a trust-fund kid. The Law Offices of Dermont, Grainger, and Wilson was our destiny before I banged up my brain and retired the silver tongue that had been my calling card.
Hard to deliver a compelling closing argument to a jury when you stutter your own name. Law school was in their future, but not mine. Not anymore.
I ducked my head, carrying the bus tub to the kitchen. The man I could have been was laid to rest that icy night on Alley Road. He’d been buried alongside my beloved Blue, now flattened metal in a junkyard.
My brother swung around the corner, eating up the space between us with his own signature confident swagger. Think of the devil, and Devlin appears.
He was dressed in a dark suit, blue tie, button-down shirt. A lot like Lawyer Cade would have dressed. Except cooler. An idea bordering on laughable, since my current ensemble was a food-stained apron, work boots, and a black polo shirt with the words “Oak & Sage” embroidered over my heart.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
“Empty the trash in the kitchen and you’re good to go. I’ll have Larry run the bus tubs through the dishwasher.” He clapped my shoulder. “Not bad for your first week. You’ll be running this place in no time.”
I flipped him off. He laughed.
“Aspirations, Cade. Aspirations,” he said as he walked to the bar to flirt with Rena. He was almost cheery. Which was nauseating. A good woman changed you, I supposed.
We hadn’t always been friends. Actually, I used to hate him. He’d lived with us as a teenager and had stolen my mom’s—er, Joyce’s—jewelry once. In recent history, he’d come to collect money for my dad’s gambling debts and we nearly beat the shit out of each other. That was the night we found out we were related.
Talk about being thrown for a fucking loop.
I strolled to the kitchen, handed the bus tub to Larry to sort, and palmed one of the three heaping garbage cans. I closed the first trash bag, holding my breath to avoid the stench of discarded food.