No Limos Allowed

Nobodys Prize

Maisie

Two days. That's how long I'd been keeping Griff's secret – that he was only here because he lost a bet.

Not exactly scandalous, right? But still, I hadn't breathed a word – not even to Tessa, the one person who might've helped me make sense of it.

The whole thing was incredibly frustrating, even more so because Griff hadn't told me anything remotely useful. This, of course, made me wonder if the whole story was just a well-rehearsed pile of bunk.

On the upside, my conscience felt at least a little lighter, knowing that I had tried to do the right thing in terms of paying him. On the downside, I'd come up with a decent theory to fill in the blanks, and it wasn't exactly flattering to the guy in question.

He was a trust fund baby.

He had to be.

Unless he was some sort of fugitive, it was the only thing that made sense. I mentally ran through the checklist.

No job.

Pricy clothes – at least when traveling.

And dipshit friends who made outrageous bets.

His friend Ryder was a prime example. True, I had never met the guy. But Tessa had painted a pretty clear picture. Obviously, the guy had money to burn, tipping with hundred dollar bills and sending raisin pastries that nobody planned on eating.

The way it sounded, the whole lot of them were bored trust-fund types who had never set foot in the real world, Griff included.

Mulling it over, I couldn't help but recall the first time I'd ever laid eyes on him. In my mind's eye, I could still see him, standing on the ferry dock looking like a million bucks.

Forget Wall Street. He was from Easy Street – of the silver spoon variety.

I almost sighed. It must be nice.

Still, I had to give him credit. For a guy who'd grown up on the right side of the tracks, he was a surprisingly hard worker – and not only when it was sunny.

Today it was raining cats and dogs. Even so, Griff had volunteered – no, insisted – on heading to the post office to track down a missing shipment of tire tubes.

As for myself, I was manning the front counter – an easy task considering that the rain had turned Main Street into a ghost town. In the twenty minutes since Griff had ventured out, not a single soul had ventured in, which wasn't terrific for the bottom line – or my sanity.

I'd spent far too many of those minutes thinking of Griff. This wasn't healthy. Or productive. He and I were from two totally different worlds, and I'd be a fool to think we could bridge the gap.

And let's say we did. Probably his mom would call me Marsha or something equally wrong while sneering at me for using a dessert fork to eat my salad.

And that would be that.

The sound of the rain did nothing to drown out these thoughts as the minutes dragged like molasses in January.

But then, the bell on the door gave a promising jingle.

Finally. With a smile, I looked up, only to feel my stomach drop so fast I nearly lost my lunch.

In the open doorway stood Devon, wearing white chinos and a navy hooded rain jacket.

Under the hood, he looked slightly shifty – like a teenager trying to buy booze. As I openly stared, he shoved back the hood and said with a sheepish smile, "Hey."

Hey?

Seriously?

It's not like we were neighbors bumping into each other in the produce aisle. I responded with the kind of look that should've sent him running.

No such luck. He stepped into the shop and let the door swing shut behind him. "You alone?"

The question didn't improve my demeanor. "Why?"

"I just thought we could talk." He sauntered forward and claimed a spot on the opposite side of the front counter. "Don't worry, Sierra's at the spa."

What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I replied with only a shrug, the kind that wasn't meant to encourage conversation.

Yet he kept talking, anyway. "She's getting a massage. Something with hot stones? Honestly, I stopped listening." He lowered his voice. "But anyway, I've got at least an hour."

What the hell? I literally recoiled. "An hour for what?"

He winced, like I'd hurt his feelings. "To talk, what else?"

Devon had never been big on talking, especially the other day, when he'd just stood there, letting Sierra give me a hard time.

Into my stony silence, he continued. "I just thought…after the other day, I should explain. Our visit…it wasn't supposed to go like that."

Well, that was rich. I didn't bother hiding my annoyance. "So how was it supposed to go?"

He gave a lazy wave of his hand. "We were just gonna say hi. But then she got nervous. You know how she gets."

I made a scoffing sound. "Do I?" Until their recent visit to my shop, I'd met Sierra exactly one time – at that college frat party, where we'd talked for two forgettable minutes.

Here and now, Devon was still explaining. "She was worried you'd be upset…you know, because of the engagement."

It was a funny claim, considering that coming in to waggle the ring wasn't exactly subtle – or necessary. Devon was a liar and a cheater. He was nobody's prize, and I had no interest in filling Sierra's shoes – not even those cute heels she'd been wearing the other day.

By now, I'd had just about enough . "Look, I'm really busy, so if we're done…" I glanced toward the door, hoping he'd take the hint.

Instead, he took a long look around, eyeing the empty shop. "How can you be busy? There's nobody here."

" You're here," I said. "That's more than enough."

He stiffened. "I didn't come here to argue."

"Then why did you come?"

He looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. "You already asked that."

"Yeah? And your answer sucked, because there's nothing we have to talk about."

His chin lifted. "Not even if I'm here to apologize?" He said it like he was offering me a diamond tiara and a ring to match.

And yet, I was stupidly curious. "For what?"

"Everything." He gave me a crooked smile. "So…are we good?"

I did the only thing I could do. I laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh, but it made me feel better just the same.

Devon frowned. "What's so funny?"

I gave a derisive snort. "That had to be the worst apology ever."

"What was wrong with it?"

"You didn't even say what you were sorry for."

He bristled. "I did, too."

"Oh, you mean…" I made little air quotes. "For everything?"

"Uh…yeah."

"So what does that include exactly? The lying? The cheating? The little visit from the other day?"

He pouted like a scolded child. "Jeez, you don't have to be so mean about it."

It took everything I had not to lunge across the counter. "Is that some kind of joke?"

He blinked stupidly, as if I'd just asked him to recite the alphabet backwards. But then, bouncing back more quickly than a dodgeball to the face, he leaned forward to say in a husky whisper, "I've been thinking about you."

Un-freaking-believable. "What exactly are you getting at?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just thought you should know."

I was glaring now. "Why?"

Undaunted, he smiled. "Back in college, you'd still let me kiss you when you were mad." His smile turned sly. "Remember that?"

I remembered a lot of things, especially near the end. By now, I was quivering with righteous indignation. "Yeah, and I used to let you bum my Chinese takeout, too. But now?" My voice rose as my composure shattered. "I wouldn't toss you an eggroll if you were starving in the gutter!"

Woah. Even I was a little shocked. That might've been the cruelest thing I'd ever said. Probably it wasn't even true. I mean, if he were truly starving, he could have the eggroll and the soy sauce, too – and sure, some fried rice if I had any.

Damn it.

Me and my stupid conscience.

As my words echoed out between us, I caught my breath and braced for his reaction.

It wasn't what I'd expected.

Instead of flying off the handle, he gave a soft chuckle, like we were sharing a secret joke. Resting an elbow on the counter, he asked, "So…are you still seeing that guy?"

Oh, for God's sake. "You mean the one from four days ago?"

"Five," he corrected.

I didn't bother stopping to count. Whether it was four days or five, the point remained. During that unholy visit, Griff had hinted that he wanted to marry me. This made us almost engaged as far as Devon was concerned.

What an idiot. Nobody went from nearly engaged to looking-for-love in just a few days – well, except for Devon, I guess. After all, that's exactly what he'd done to me.

The realization wasn't comforting. Even so, there was a small part of me that was actually glad to see him – but not for the reason he seemed to think.

I leveled him with a look that cut through the nonsense. "Listen, I've got a question."

He perked up. "Yeah?"

"Where did you see Delaney?"

He smirked. "Delaney who?"

"Oh, please. As if you don't know." My voice hardened. "Delaney Sinclair. From college."

Delaney had been haunting my thoughts for days, ever since I'd learned that I wasn't the only person she'd ghosted.

After Tessa had dropped that surprise bombshell, I'd asked her a bunch of questions, only to learn nearly nothing – except that Delaney had broken things off with her family around the same time she'd broken things off with me.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

Was she in some sort of trouble?

Or off on a wild adventure?

I had no idea.

But right here in front of me was someone who had seen Delaney just a couple of weeks ago, assuming of course that Sierra had been telling the truth.

Unfortunately, here and now, Devon's mouth remained firmly shut.

I sighed. "Surely you remember? She was my roommate for God's sake."

"Oh, I remember," he said. "I just don't like your attitude."

My jaw dropped. " My attitude? Are you freaking serious?"

His tone grew snotty. "I don't know. Are you ?"

I threw up my hands. "What does that even mean?"

"It means," he said, "that if you want information, maybe you should ask a little nicer." He gave a wounded little sniff. "I mean…you weren't this way in college."

Asshole. Yeah, I was nicer – until the cheating and dumping. And hey, I was still nice, just not to him, because the jerkwad didn't deserve it.

Still, I sucked in a deep breath and willed some calm into my voice. "Fine. I'm sorry, okay?" I almost choked on the words. But worry for Delaney overpowered my pride. "Now, will you please tell me where you saw her?"

He grinned. "See? Was that so hard?"

It was, actually. Even now, my stupid apology was stuck in my craw – whatever that was – making it hard for me to keep my composure. But I managed to do it and even hold my tongue – until Devon added, "But you need to answer my question first."

I glared across the counter. "You've got some nerve. You know that?"

Oblivious, he continued. "You and that guy – are you still together or what?"

I wasn't having it. "No. Me first." I spoke slowly and clearly. " Where did you see Delaney?"

"Fine," he muttered. "Chicago. There. You happy?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. Chicago? Delaney was from lower Michigan. As far as I knew, she had no connection to Chicago at all. Then again, the city wasn't that far away. It was what? Six hours? Maybe eight?

Devon gave me an expectant look. "So you and that guy?..." He let the words trail off as if expecting me to finish the thought.

But I wasn't done with Delaney. "When you saw her, did she look okay?"

He shifted like he couldn't believe I was still on this. With a long-suffering sigh, he said, "She looked fine. And before you ask, that's all I know. We ran into her downtown. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, well it is to me ."

"Why?" he scoffed. "The way I hear it, you're not even friends anymore."

The reminder stung. "And you know this how?"

"Delaney told me. She seemed pretty happy about it, too." He chuckled. "If you want the truth, we all had a good laugh."

His words hit like a freight train, and I gave him a scathing look. "You need to leave."

He stayed put. "But you never answered my question – about you and that guy."

"Yeah, because it's none of your business."

He leaned forward. "So you broke up?"

"No." This was technically true, because you'd have to be together to break up. Griff and I had never been a thing, but Devon didn't need to know that.

He was quiet for a long, sullen moment. "Well he doesn't own you, does he?"

Nice try, asswipe. I stared him down. "What does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, if you're worried that he'll catch us talking, you should chill out. A guy like that isn't worth it."

Talk about nerve. I gritted out, "A guy like what?"

"You know…the jealous type." He straightened. "If I were you, I wouldn't put up with it."

What a tool.

Had he always been this way? I didn't think so. But then again, even back in college, I obviously didn't know him nearly as well as I'd thought.

Whatever this was, it was long past time to end it. I plastered on a sudden smile and pointed toward the window. "Look, it's Sierra."

Devon practically jumped out of his skin. He whirled to look, and his voice became a raw squeak as he demanded, "Where?"

What a coward. And don't get me started on the hypocrisy. Still, I couldn't help but smile – for real this time. "Oops."

He was still staring at the window. "What do you mean 'oops'?"

"Oh, I'm sorry ," I said with blatant sarcasm. "It must've been somebody else."

His shoulders eased, and he turned once again to face me. "You were messing with me, weren't you?"

Like it wasn't obvious . With a shrug, I replied, "I guess you'll never know." I glanced past him toward the window in question, only to give a little jump of my own. More to myself than to Devon, I said, "And there's Griff."

Devon snorted. "Nice try. But I'm not falling for that again."

When the door jingled, he didn't even turn to look. Instead, he leaned over the counter and said in a surprisingly smarmy voice, "So…you wanna grab a coffee sometime?"

I don't know why he bothered. I wasn't even looking at him. I was too busy staring at the figure standing just inside the open doorway.

The new arrival was tall and muscular with thick hair that was dripping wet. His black T-shirt was utterly soaked, outlining every hard inch of his chest and torso. His eyes – steely blue with a hint of danger – surveyed the scene like a predator sizing up a kill.

He was hauling a battered box under his arm – a shipment that should have arrived days ago.

Yup. It was Griff.

Devon's question about coffee lingered like a bad stench. Absently, I replied, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Devon gave me a roguish grin. "Oh, come on. You know you want to."

But this time, it was Griff who answered. "No. She doesn't."