Page 11 of Irresistibly Wicked

What the hell was she listening to?

“Fuck my freaking liiife,” she sang, her hips rocking and her head bobbing.

He touched her arm. “Excuse me—”

She looked up with a broad smile that lit up her big brown eyes and brought out the cutest dimples he’d ever seen. But as he said, “Hi,” her smile faltered and she stumbled backward, as if she’d seen a ghost, knocking her cup over and sending coffee spilling across the counter.

She gasped. “Shitshitshit.”

“Sorry.” They both reached for napkins at the same time, their hands bumping. She pulled hers away, those beautiful eyes darting to him again as he began mopping up the mess. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I…um…It’s…I don’t know what happened.” She threw the cup away, her cheeks pinking up.

“I tend to have that effect on women.” He finished cleaning up and threw out the napkins. “Let me buy you another coffee.” He grabbed a cup and turned back to her. “Diesel or unleaded?”

“You know what? I don’t need it. It’s a sign. I’m overcaffeinated already. I need to…” She pointed behind her, walking backward toward the door. “Thanks!”

She turned and hurried out of the store, leaving him staring after her, empty cup in hand, unable to believe he’d found the woman behind the voice. I knew you were real.

Fuck. He didn’t get her name.

He threw away the cup and flew out the door, looking for her. He scanned the cars parked out front and the ones at the pumps, but she was nowhere to be found. He ran to the side of the building in case she’d parked there, but the side lot was empty.

Cursing himself, he raked a hand through his hair and paced in front of the store. The one time he’d sell his soul for a woman’s number, and he’d stood there, stunned as a schoolboy as she walked away. What the hell? Maybe the accident had messed up his brain after all. And why did she look like she’d seen a ghost?

I’ll find you, Angel, if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter Five

SHAUNA FINISHED DRESSING for her pole class and sat on her bed to put on her sneakers Tuesday morning, when she heard Brian heading into the bathroom. She hated the feeling of dread settling into her chest, but the last few months had been a torturous roller coaster of broken promises and arguments, leaving her heartbroken and scared for her best friend and equally angry and resentful toward him. He no longer tried to hide the fact that he was drinking, and although he didn’t do drugs around her, there was no missing the telltale signs that he was using again, like how angry and erratic he’d become, his shady disappearances and poorly delivered lies. She was constantly trying to come up with ways to convince him to get help, but she was running out of ideas. Lately she’d been taking on extra shifts at the firehouse, going to the gym more often, and taking more pole classes, just to keep from coming home, and she didn’t know how much more of it she could take.

She finished tying her laces, pulled on her hoodie, and pushed to her feet to pin up her hair. As she reached for an elastic band on the dresser, her gaze caught on the certified letter she’d tucked into her underwear drawer. She’d received the letter a few weeks ago from her late grandfather’s attorney. More conflicting emotions swamped her. She’d loved her grandfather, and there had been a time when she’d thought he might want to save her from the nightmare of living with her parents. But when she’d finally gotten up the courage to ask, it was too late. He’d heard about her drinking and smoking weed, and he’d wanted no part of trying to help another troubled teen. He’d seen her as an extension of her father, and she’d validated it with every beer she drank and every joint she smoked. Her hopes had been shattered, and not long after that he’d disappeared from their lives.

Leave it to her grandfather to give her the means to help Brian wrapped in a mousetrap she’d never get caught in. He’d left her fifty thousand dollars with the caveat that she be alcohol and drug free for a year and happily married for two months. She’d seen too many marriages turn into nooses around people’s necks to ever put herself in that situation. Not even for Brian. She’d find another way to help him.

She had to.

As she pinned up her hair, taking one last glance in the mirror, she remembered when she couldn’t stand to see her reflection. Back then, she’d looked as defeated as she’d felt. Every feature had screamed of her unhappiness and substance abuse, from her bloodshot eyes and gray skin to her lifeless hair and drooped shoulders. Now she was proud of the confident, strong, clear-eyed woman in the mirror, with radiant skin and full, shiny hair, though her eyes were currently shadowed by worries about Brian.

Admiring herself wasn’t an act of conceit or misplaced values. It was a measure of appreciation for how far she’d come and another reminder that she never wanted to go back to the person she’d been.

As I’m proud of you played in her mind, her thoughts traipsed back to Zander. She was anything but proud of the way she’d hightailed it away from him yesterday. After the accident, she’d secretly visited him in the hospital nearly every day while he was sedated, trying to figure out why she felt so connected to him. When she’d seen him breathing on his own, she’d forced herself to stop visiting and hadn’t gone back. But she’d never stopped thinking about him. Lord knew she’d tried, but he’d plagued her thoughts like an unsolvable puzzle for the past few months. When she’d seen him at Cumberland Farms, standing right in front of her, as tall and strong as a towering oak instead of out cold in a hospital bed, she’d felt caught, and it had knocked her completely off-kilter.

“Hey, Shauna, you up?” Brian called through her bedroom door.

Closing her eyes for a second, she said, “Yeah. I’ll be right out.” She had no idea what shape he’d be in this morning. He’d come home last night after she’d already gone to bed, but she’d heard him stumbling around. Bracing for today’s battle, she pocketed her phone and reminded herself to stay calm, which was getting increasingly difficult.

At least they’d been blessed with a sunny day. She headed out of the bedroom and opened the front windows on her way to the kitchen, where Brian was staring into the barren refrigerator. Without his help with the rent for the last couple of months, she’d had to tighten her belt where she could. “Good morning,” she said cheerily, hoping for the best.

“Morning.” His voice was rough. “You going shopping today?”

“Yes, but I really need you to find a job and start helping with the rent.”

“This again? Can you please get off my ass?” He closed the refrigerator so hard, she startled.

“Trust me, the last thing I want to do is harass you, but I have bills to pay. Mine and yours. After paying for rent and utilities, my car payment, car insurance, groceries, gas, both of our cell phones, and the gym, there’s nothing left.”

“Give me a break,” he sneered. “You make a boatload of money.”