Page 7 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

Like he-who-shall-never-be-mentioned-aloud.

The man who’s mine, but not in any way that matters. The one who made me come in a coat closet last weekend.

I swallow a sigh and look away from the romance book. Girl who runs bookshop full of love stories can’t even tell anyone she has a boyfriend. Zero stars. Would not recommend.

After the preschoolers come the introvert lunch rush. Every worker in a five-block radius who doesn’t feel like chatting in the break room comes to the Copper Cup for a sandwich and a chance to read quietly at our tables. After that, I squeeze in a call with a potential new coffee supplier before the after-school coffee rush.

By the time the book club comes in around six, I’ve only been able to sneak up to the bathroom once. Lunch was a stale croissant I scarfed down hours ago. My feet are sore and my muscles drag with exhaustion, but at least the cash register’s full.

Just as I expected, discussing The Road is so depressing that I sell every new copy of The Lady and the Orc to the bummed-out book-clubbers. They stay later than usual, exchanging small talk, and I let out a breath of relief as the last one leaves. After a long, good day, I can’t wait to go to my apartment and crash for a few hours.

The bell on the front door rings again as someone new comes in. Of course.

I automatically plaster on my customer service smile. Most of the time, I love my job, but sometimes I’m forced to put on the fake smile every retail worker has in their back pocket. The one that’s a little too plastic, showing a few too many teeth.

Except for once, the person walking in prompts a genuine grin.

“Eden!” I shriek. I rush toward the beaming blonde and she runs toward me. We collapse in a heap of flailing, giggling limbs on the floor. That’s the thing about friends you’ve known over a decade—when you get together, your dignity tends to vanish.

“Okay, that was embarrassing.” She laughs. “You don’t have security cameras, do you?”

“Of course I do. Don’t worry, I’m grabbing the footage from our reunion and I’m posting it in the Camp Rush group chat.”

“Nooo.” Eden grabs my arm. “If Counselor Eric sees it, he’ll never want to marry me!”

We both cackle at the thought. When we were thirteen-year-old kids at sleepaway camp, everyone had a crush on Counselor Eric. It seemed like a good idea at the time, since he was the only man within a fifty-kilometer radius. Now with the benefit of hindsight, it’s obvious that his oiled slickback, wraparound sunglasses, and extensive collection of tie-dyed T-shirts didn’t exactly add up to crushworthy material.

Still giggling, we pull ourselves to our feet.

“I thought you weren’t coming until late tonight!” I say.

Eden rolls her eyes. “I had to move up my departure time after I caught my brother Wade trying to slip an airtag in my suitcase.”

“Which he was doing…why?”

“You know my brothers. They think Toronto is basically Gotham City. They’re positive that if I walk outside by myself, I’m going to get kidnapped by the Riddler.”

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it immediately, wondering if it’ll be Beau. I know he was planning on working tonight, but maybe he changed his mind so he can come meet Eden. He knows that on top of being my best and longest friend, she’ll also be my roommate for the next few months. And she’s the only person who knows about us.

Instead, I find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown

If she gets into any trouble, call me. Day or night.

I show it to Eden. “You recognize this number?”

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” she mutters. “That’s Jasper’s.”

I met Jasper a few times when I visited Eden’s family ranch as a kid. Back then, he was way too busy with farm chores and weekends at the rodeo to bother us, which suited us just fine. We didn’t need three older guys following us while we ran through the fields and picked berries and brushed the horses. They didn’t get all controlling and overprotective until after their dad died.

“I am so sorry,” Eden sighs. “I told them not to contact you, but they don’t listen. They never listen. They once tracked my phone to a Denny’s at 2:00 a.m. and called the manager.”

“Wisely,” I point out. “Nothing good happens at a Denny’s at 2:00 a.m.”

“Yes, but that’s not their business.” I watch as Eden blocks the number on my phone. “There. If you hear from the other two jokers, just let me know. I’ll read them the freaking riot act.”

I laugh, but it feels a bit hollow. It must be nice to have brothers who want to protect you. Luke has never exactly looked out for my well-being. In fact, he’s actively sabotaged it a few too many times for us to ever really be close.