Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
AUGUST
“I’ve got to say, you’ve done a hell of a job with this place. I’m impressed, Auggie.” Sammy leans on one of the heavy wooden tables as he digs a spoon into a scoop of the daily special.
Since the guy rarely offers a compliment without a joke attached, his genuine sentiment hits me right in the chest. Kind of like he ran up and hugged me.
“Thank you.” I grin at him across the counter before moving to the cash register. I debate if I should remove the drawer of money yet. There are still a few minutes left before we close, and I’m in no hurry to get out of here, so I leave it in.
Never know who might straggle in at the last second.
“I’m proud of you too, August.” Marisol blinks up at me with a wide smile.
That is, until Sammy snorts, and she shifts rapid-fire into a glare directed at him. He pretends not to notice, eyes only for his dessert.
I shake my head and try not to roll my eyes. Ever since the pool party last week, Marisol has either stepped up her crush-induced commentary, or I’ve just been noticing it more. Either way, I’m going to have to figure out a way to let her down easy.
“You two can head out whenever. I’ve got this.” I use a cloth to wipe the last traces of fingerprints off the glass protecting the ice cream.
“I don’t mind sticking around to help.” Marisol sidles up to me.
“You might want to check with your chauffeur before you start making plans to stay late, Merry Berry,” Sammy scolds as he tosses his trash in the can.
The little Squid whirls on him. “Don’t call me that!”
“Why not, Merry Berry? I thought you loved your nickname.”
The two of them continue to bicker as I wipe down the tables.
Most people would find their snipping annoying, but I enjoy the feeling that comes with witnessing their inconsequential arguments.
A sense of belonging. Like I’m part of this family, so they don’t mind having it out in front of me.
They’re still going at each other when I make it back to the counter.
Then the bell above the door jingles, cutting off their squabble. All three of us turn to eye the last-minute customer.
Marisol mutters a curse, Sammy lets out a chuckle, and I clutch the granite counter, the surface growing cold under my palms.
A certain Fire Elemental, who has permanently lodged herself in my brain, saunters across the hardwood floor in a set of lethal red heels. A dress, the same flaming bright color, hugs every single curve she has.
The devil herself, temptation personified, fills my shop with her presence.
“Quinn Byrne. Funny seeing you here.” Sammy steps in front of the Pyro, cutting off my view. It’s all I can do not to growl at the loss, paired with his familiar tone.
“Samuel. Look at you. Someone might mistake you for a professional.” Quinn sidesteps the Squid and flicks a finger at the shoulder of his perfectly tailored suit.
My cousin turns, keeping his eyes on her and a cocky grin on his face.
I hate to admit it, but they look good next to each other. Like a high-powered couple ready to dominate the corporate world. I, meanwhile, have on jeans, a T-shirt, and an ice cream–stained apron.
“I can be a gentleman when I want.” Sammy straightens his cuffs.
Quinn and Marisol scoff at the same time, but when the redhead smiles at my employee, she gets a glare in response.
“So, is this a major Elemental hangout or something? All the Squids looking for their ice cream fix?” Though Quinn’s question is aimed at Sammy, she takes another step toward me, her heels clicking on the hardwood.
I’m torn between retreating into my back office and locking the door, or circling around the counter to toss the little fire starter over my shoulder and carrying her back there with me.
“You do know how much I like sweet things in my mouth”—Sammy’s confident grin brings a sick feeling to my stomach—“but I’m just here to pick up this prickly pear.
” He wraps his arm around Marisol’s neck and ruffles her hair while she hisses at him, reminding me of an angry cat. “And to support my cousin, of course.”
Quinn’s confident step stutters, and I finally meet her eyes. There’s heat in them, but not as much as what’s infusing her cheeks.
She flicks her gaze between Sammy and me as the pale skin behind her many freckles flushes. “You’re August’s cousin?”
Her reaction sets off warning bells in my brain. Still, I keep my mouth shut and silently pray to the gods that she’ll turn around, leave my shop, and stop tormenting me with her irresistible appeal.
“On a first-name basis, huh? And how is it that you know my cousin?” Sammy shoots a smirk at me.
I’m tempted to flip him off but worry about letting my icy shield crack even that much.
“I’m here to seduce him.”
Silence settles over the shop.
Ice, slick and heavy, condenses in my gut and threatens to spill out of my skin.
Despite her blush, Quinn holds my gaze with her own determined one. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Marisol’s hands curling into fists.
Sammy’s mouth bobs a couple of times before he lets out a grumble that finally breaks some of the tension. “You never bothered seducing me.”
“Sorry, Squid. One and done, remember? Besides, you’re not the one I want.”
The inside of my chest shudders with the frost trying to force its way free, all brought to the surface by her words and the alluring sway of her hips.
The growing chill reinforces the danger Quinn is in.
“Well, I can tell when I’m not welcome. Let’s go, Marisol.” Sammy’s pout from a second ago disappears as quickly as it rose to the surface. Meeting my eyes, he offers a wink.
“I’d rather stay.” My employee crosses her arms over her chest and glares.
“Not up to you, Merry Berry.”
And before Marisol can protest further, my cousin scoops her up in a fireman’s carry. The sixteen-year-old shrieks a protest, pounding on his suited back while Sammy turns to face Quinn.
“Don’t let Auggie’s stoicism scare you off.” He smirks my way, and I glare in response. “He’s dying to get laid.”
Marisol gasps, Quinn grins, and I grind my jaw so hard that my teeth protest.
My cousin and his struggling Squid cargo are almost out the door when he offers up one last comment. “I think he’d appreciate a little ass play once you dislodge the icicle that’s shoved up there!”
Then my outrageous buffer is gone, and my once-spacious shop suddenly feels as small as an ice-fishing shack.
With precise steps that remind me of a tiger stalking prey, Quinn approaches the counter. She spreads her palms flat on the surface and leans forward just enough that I catch a hint of cleavage down the neck of her dress.
“What does a woman have to do to get serviced around here?”