Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
SLOANE
Mandy leans against the counter beside me, talking nonstop about her birthday party this weekend while I top off the coffeepot, wearing the new manager tag on my shirt.
She continues to tell me all about how we’re going to have the best time, and I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t plan on going.
I’ll just pretend I’m sick like all the other times she’s invited me out with her friends. There’s no way I can go. For starters, I have nothing to wear to a club. Second, I don’t even like clubs. I don’t drink, and I barely know how to dance without looking foolish.
She has other friends. She’ll be fine.
Sometimes I wish I had her life. Good parents, a house to call home, going to beauty school and making something out of herself. But that’s never going to happen for me. I’ve never even had dreams to begin with.
“I can grab us an Uber and we can go together,” she says while I try to figure out how to disappoint her. She nudges me with her hip. “I swear if you pretend you’re sick again, I will show up at your house and drag you out.”
Ugh, crap. That can’t happen. Also, how in the world did she know I was making it up?
My face falls. I hate lying, but telling her the truth is humiliating. So I go with a half-truth.
“Look, you know I love you, but money is super tight right now and I just can’t afford it. And I don’t even have anything cute to wear.”
She scoffs. “That’s it?”
“What?” Confusion settles over me.
“That’s why you never wanna come out?”
Well, that and the fact that I’m homeless…
But I nod instead.
Her palms settle on my shoulders as she stares at me with gentle kindness. “You don’t have to worry about money. I’ll cover whatever you need when we’re out, and you can borrow a dress from my closet. We are basically the same size.”
My throat tightens. “It’s your birthday. I’m supposed to be paying for you.”
She flings a hand up like I’m being ridiculous. “Girl, please. I just want my bestie there.”
I let out a sigh. Of course she would never let me feel bad about anything. That’s what makes her so special.
“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you, Mandy.”
“Don’t mention it. You can come to my place to get ready, and we’ll leave together.”
“Alright.” I grab the coffeepot and start back toward my section.
“Oh, by the way,” she calls, and I glance over my shoulder. “I found out the ranch is looking for a few people for the weekend shifts. I can ask them about Fridays if you want. Just say the word.”
Hope springs to life. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Do you think they’d hire me?”
“Ugh, duh! What kind of question is that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what they’re looking for.”
What I don’t tell her is how nervous it makes me to be that close to people I don’t know. What if they start digging and find out who I am? What happens to Milo then?
And as much as I love what the Whitlocks do for horses, there’s something about that family that’s always made me pause, like my intuition is screaming at me. Every time I see one of them around, my skin prickles.
But I really don’t have the time to be picky. Not like other jobs are knocking at my door.
“What’s wrong?” Mandy studies me. “Your face is doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” I lift a brow.
“The one that says you’re already talking yourself out of the very job you wanted to begin with.”
It’s scary how well she knows me.
“It’s just…I don’t know.” I rub my thumb along the edge of the counter. “They kind of…intimidate me.”
Mandy laughs. “Everyone intimidates you.”
“That’s not true.” But it kind of is.
“It is,” she says, still laughing. “But the Whitlocks are good people. And Jace is up here this week, so I’ll talk to him for you. He loves me.” Her grin turns sly. “Greer, not so much.”
Greer. Just hearing her name makes me tense. She’s Jace’s sister and the one who runs the Jersey ranch. Every time I see her around town, she scares the hell out of me. I swear she has a gun or five on her at all times, just waiting for someone to give her a reason.
I snort despite myself. “You and I must know very different versions of Jace Whitlock.”
Every time I see him, he always looks so serious.
She winks. “Trust me, the man is obsessed with me, in that brooding ‘you can’t have me, Mandy’ kind of way. It’s part of his Southern charm.”
“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.”
She smiles like it’s already been decided.
The bell over the door chimes just as Jace Whitlock strides in.
Speak of the devil…
Mandy’s face turns crimson beside me, her back straightening as he walks up to the counter, blue eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
She can’t help staring at the way his black T-shirt clings to all that muscle and the way a simple pair of jeans somehow looks unfairly good on him.
Her gaze drifts over his bare arms, over the veins and the terrifying tattoos of skulls, gravestones, and snakes that wrap from the tops of his hands up his arms before disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.
“My God, he’s so hot…” she whispers to me, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.
He heads straight toward us, and the girl two seats down doesn’t even try to hide the way she stares.
One thing’s for sure: the Whitlocks were blessed with the good-looking gene. I heard their mother was some kind of beauty queen back in Texas.
“I’ve got this,” Mandy says brightly, putting on all the charm as soon as he comes near. “Hi, Jace. How are you today? What can I get you?”
He doesn’t smile. I don’t think he knows how. Maybe he broke that muscle falling off a horse or something. I’m sure that’s a thing…
“Mandy.” He tips his head. “Coffee. Black.” His fingers drag over the scruff of his goatee. “Please.”
“Coming right up,” she says, already pouring, like her body can’t sit still when he’s this close.
I think the whole diner is attracted to him. The other waitresses have conveniently found reasons to pause and gawk a little too long or whisper to each other. Jace doesn’t notice, or he does and doesn’t care. He has bigger things to worry about, like his sweet baby girl, Rue.
He doesn’t bring his six-year-old daughter around much. She’s usually back home, but every once in a while, she’s with him, especially when he’s staying in New Jersey for a stretch.
It’s a tragedy what happened to his wife all those years ago.
She got hit by a car on her way to pick up diapers when Rue was barely more than a baby, and I swear it has to eat at him.
Last I heard, they only got married because she got pregnant, but still.
Maybe that’s why he’s the way he is. Or maybe that’s just his peachy personality.
With her back to him, Mandy sneaks a glance at me and makes this dramatic face like she’s about to faint. I have to look away before I actually laugh out loud.
Then she turns back to Jace and slides a to-go cup across the counter, and when he hands her cash, she clears her throat like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“So, Jace. You guys still looking for help on Fridays?”
“Yep. Why?” That Texas drawl sneaks out around the edges.
“So, funny thing.” She tilts her head toward me. “My friend Sloane here is looking for a job.”
My head snaps toward her, eyes going wide, but Mandy keeps going.
“She’s great with people. They just promoted her to manager.”
Jace’s gaze lowers to me then, assessing me like I’m some prized cattle at an auction or something. The silence hangs there long enough for my pulse to start thudding in my ears.
“We’ve got a spot,” he finally says. “Can you come by on Sunday?”
“I can come early or late morning before my shift, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. I’ll let my sister, Greer, know to expect you. She handles applications.”
Oh, great. Greer…
I force a smile, then shoot Mandy an I’m-going-to-kill-you look, but she ignores it, way too pleased with herself.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He nods once and lifts his coffee, then turns slightly as his phone chimes. He sets the cup back down to type, completely unbothered by the way half the diner is watching him.
Mandy leans in, whispering, “See? I told you he loves me.”
Love. She’s delusional, but in the cutest way. The only thing Jace Whitlock loves is his daughter, and everyone knows it.
Jace takes a slow sip of his coffee, thumb tapping once over his phone before he shoves it back into his pocket.
The bell over the door chimes again, and when I look up, I find Kirill towering in with Lev tucked at his side, one big hand settled on his son’s shoulder, the other loose at his thigh.
I wonder why they’re here today. They only ever come on Mondays.
I give Kirill a small smile, but he doesn’t return it. He doesn’t even glance my way. His gaze is trained on Jace’s back like it’s personally offended him.
Confusion flickers through me right as Kirill reaches the counter and Jace turns. The second their eyes meet, something ugly sparks to life between them. The dislike is so palpable, it rattles through my bones.
Kirill’s jaw shifts, a muscle jumping in his neck. “Whitlock.”
The way he says that, it’s as though the man’s name insulted him.
Kirill’s gaze narrows. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here. What brings you by?”
“I must’ve missed you.” Jace doesn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.
Kirill’s mouth curls into something that isn’t a smile. “Say hello to your father. It’s been too long since we’ve seen him too.”
A scoff is Jace’s answer. “I’ll send my regards.”
“You do that.” Kirill holds his stare, refusing to cut away at the growing tension. “I’ll see you around.”
Jace pivots away like he’s done, but Kirill calls after him before he can take another step.
“Remind your father that respect is a two-way street.”
“Be careful.” Jace turns back, closing the distance. “I might take that as a threat.”
“Good.” Kirill’s grin widens, like he’s enjoying every second of whatever this is.
My skin grows cold. I’ve never seen him this way.
Jace’s mouth tightens, and his expression turns lethal.
What in the world is happening? Why do they hate each other so much? It’s as though I’m standing too close to a bomb one of them is about to detonate.
Mandy leans in, whispering, “I don’t know what’s going on with those two, but I, for one, would pay to see them fight. Shirtless.”
“Mandy,” I hiss, elbowing her.
Lev’s attention flicks between the men, his brows pulling inward. He knows something is wrong, and the last thing I want is for this sweet baby to be upset.
“Hey.” I step forward, putting myself in front of Kirill before this gets any worse. “Come on. Let’s get you boys to your booth.”
Kirill doesn’t pay me any mind at first, and when Lev shifts and grows more tense, I slip my hand to Kirill’s.
His reaction is immediate. Those intense eyes drop to where my fingers brush his skin, then lift to my face, sharp and searching. Heat warms my cheeks, and the way he looks at me—like I’m all he sees—pulls something tight inside me.
We stay that way, ignoring the chime of the door, the people whispering. It’s just him and me, lost in this bubble. My throat dries, lips parting. Then my brain catches up and starts screaming.
What am I doing? Why does it feel like I want to keep doing it? And what if I’ve crossed a line I can’t uncross?
I try to slip my hand away, like I can pretend it never happened. But the second I do, he holds me tighter, refusing to let go, and I don’t want him to. I want him to hold me forever because I like the way it feels. The way he feels.
When Lev tugs on his shirt, Kirill looks down at him, but his hand still remains firmly in mine. And no matter how much I scold myself for jumping headfirst into this fantasy of us, I can’t seem to stop imagining it.
“Okay,” Kirill tells his son. “We will go eat.”
Swiveling away from Jace like he doesn’t exist, he guides Lev and me toward their usual booth, squeezing my hand.
When I glance over, his eyes are watching me intensely, and everything in me wakes up like it’s been dead before this man came into my life. My skin hums, every nerve alive. Every part of me burns for more. Of this. Of him. His touch. His body.
God, I’ve never felt anything like this before.
As we keep moving, I feel it: Lev’s small hand slides into my free one. When I gaze down, he’s staring right at me like he’s been watching me this whole time, his attention briefly snapping to his father’s fingers in mine.
I go still. Lev has never held my hand before, and the fact that he’s choosing me right now cracks something open in me.
Kirill notices, and his features tense. His grip on my hand doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, his thumb moving slowly over my knuckles.
For a second, I’m not in a diner. I’m standing in the middle of something I’ve never let myself want because wanting it hurt too much.
This is as close to a family as I ever imagined getting. If only Milo was here too.