Wardrobe Malfunction Incoming
Griff
The bell jingled overhead as I stepped inside with zero expectations of finding anything unusual.
And then I saw him.
Devon.
He was standing at the counter, leaning in toward Maisie with that same smug look I recalled all too well. He was so focused on her, he didn't even glance my way as I moved toward him with the mail in one hand and a fist forming in the other.
But Maisie looked.
When our eyes met, she gave a little wince and a smallish wave. She looked harried and hassled, like she'd been dodging trouble all alone.
I felt my jaw clench. Not anymore.
I continued forward, calm on the outside, but coiled tight underneath. When I reached him, I said, "Look who's back."
Devon startled like a kid caught shoplifting. He whipped around so fast, it was a wonder he didn't fall. After a beat or two, he summoned up a smile so weak it barely passed. "Oh...hey."
I gave him a long, steady look, taking in his slick haircut, the designer duds, and the thin sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip. What a douche.
I didn't smile back. "Hey what?"
"I, uh...didn't realize you'd be back so soon."
So soon?
Huh.
So he'd been watching the door. Had he been counting the minutes, too? I tried to think. I'd been gone for how long? Maybe ten minutes?
Had Devon been here the whole time?
And what exactly had he been doing?
Judging from Maisie's expression, it couldn't be good.
When I didn't bother with a reply, Maisie spoke up. "Devon was just leaving."
I kept my eyes locked on Devon. "Is that so?"
He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah…" He glanced at Maisie. "Well…as soon as I get her answer."
What the fuck? I stepped forward. "To what question?"
He stepped back. "Well, I…uh…just stopped by to invite her to a thing."
"A thing," I repeated, deadpan.
"Yeah. It's um…a cottage party." He looked away before mumbling, "And, uh…you're invited, too."
Maisie sucked in a breath. "Wait…are you serious?"
Devon turned back to Maisie. "Uh, yeah…I mentioned that, right?"
She eyed him like he'd just tried to sell her the Mackinac Bridge. "No. You didn't."
He squinted. "Are you sure?"
She fixed him with a look that could've melted tires. "Positive."
"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. "Sorry. My bad."
What exactly was I missing? I was still trying to make sense of it when the door jingled with somebody new.
I turned and nearly did a double-take. It was Sierra, looking a lot happier than she'd looked the last time she'd caught Devon in the shop.
Her smile was radiant. Her hair was glossy. Her lips were very red.
She blew through the door like she was making a red-carpet entrance in a short, slinky dress and heels so high, it was a wonder she could walk at all.
Her gaze zoomed in on me, and her eyes lit with interest, like I was the answer to all of her naked prayers. Her smile was too bright, her lashes were too long, and her blood-red dress was risking one hell of a wardrobe malfunction.
I felt my eyebrows furrow in concern. One good shimmy, and things were gonna start popping out.
Still locked on me, she stopped and struck a pose, and her smile turned wolfish like she'd just spotted a little piggie standing all alone.
Shit.
Apparently, the oinker was me. What the hell was going on?
I was pretty sure I knew the answer, and I sure as fuck didn't like it.
And this was a massive understatement.