Chapter 11
STEVIE
The following day found me in a haze of anger.
Who knew you could bag a muffin so hard it would shoot straight through the bag and onto the floor?
And apparently there was such a thing as frothing a cappuccino too frothily.
But it wasn’t until I’d told the elderly Hobie librarian to suck it up and take his coffee black like a man that Nico stepped in.
“Mr. Schneider, Stevie here has been having a rough day. Please excuse him. It’s obvious his skinny jeans shrank in the dryer and are causing him to—”
“Oh no you didn’t,” I snapped. “I would never put designer denim in the dryer. You take that back.”
Nico reached across me for the jug of cream and a handful of sugar packets. “Here you go,” he continued sweetly to the customer. “And let me grab you one of Stevie’s pecan bars on the house. I’m sure you’ll appreciate biting into his nuts with abandon once you get your hands on them.”
I clenched my teeth against the chuckle that wanted to bubble up. No way was I giving that fucker the satisfaction.
When Mr. Schneider finally waddled out of Sugar Britches, Nico sighed. “You know, there’s a difference between colorful and bitchy. Colorful Stevie brings in business like gangbusters. Bitchy Stevie is going to get me killed one of these days.”
“Pfft. That man is five feet zero and weighs a thousand pounds. All you have to do is be faster than him.”
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “He carries a Glock 42 in an ankle holster.”
I felt my bladder clench. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, no shit. Texans, am I right?”
We shared a shudder before going back to our work noticeably more subdued.
I wondered if Evan carried a weapon. Despite being anti-gun, I had to admit the thought of Evan carrying a weapon was sexy as hell.
My dick spent the rest of the afternoon hard as diamonds even though my brain was pissed at the man for treating me like a virgin dweeb.
Never mind the fact I was a virgin dweeb.
When we finally closed the shop late that afternoon, I’d ramped myself up into a frenzy to the point that when Sassy stopped me in the parking lot to dish some more about that hobag Carrie-Ann and the jackass who owned the hardware store, I snapped at her.
“Nobody gives a shit about the Clapper-Fuckles, Sassy!”
She clicked her teeth closed before muttering, “Clapper-Fickle. And what the hell’s your problem?”
“I’ve been cockblocked by my own virginity,” I hissed. “That’s my problem. A classic cold case of blue balls.”
She whipped her head around and gawped at me, her high ponytail flying around in a dark arc. “What? I thought for sure you and the chief…”
“You’d be wrong.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m not experienced enough for him. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe he’s believed all the rumors and thinks I’m a slutty, disease-ridden—”
“Dude, seriously? Calm your shit down. You’re about to ignite.”
The word conjured up raging infernos with Evan Paige in the center, losing the battle against the blaze. I deflated.
“I’m not good enough for him,” I admitted in a small voice. “He’s a big strong hero type, and I’m just… a coffee boy.”
“Bullshit,” Sassy barked, scaring me so badly I jumped.
“You are the most amazing person in the world, Stevie Devore. You’re adorable and snarky and fun and brave.
You’re sweet and loving and kind and protective.
Who makes sure Willow has milk for her cereal every morning?
Who started opening the bakery after Rox moved away just so Nico can have more time with West and Pippa in the mornings?
Who saved me the night Terry Jackman got drunk and tried to make out with me? ”
I growled under my breath. That guy was a royal skank.
“Right,” Sassy said. “You did. Not one of my six brothers or three badass sisters, but little Stevie Devore with his shaved head and Doc Martens.”
I remembered that night. It had been at a town bonfire, and I’d been desperately flirting with Nico at the time.
After he and West had left in a dense fog of sexual tension, I’d realized Sassy hadn’t come back from her trip to the bushes for a pee break.
When I’d found Terry grabbing her by a wrist, I’d kicked him in the balls, grabbed my bestie, and raced us both back to the safety of the bonfire.
“That was during my bad-boy phase. I can’t believe you let me wear Doc Martens,” I whined. “What kind of friend are you?”
“Don’t change the subject. Why you no sex up big hunky chief?”
“He doesn’t want me.”
“Once again, I call bullshit. What’s the real reason?”
“I think he’s scared of my V card,” I admitted. “He wants to talk first.”
“Why is that a problem? I think it’s sweet.”
I hated her. “Listen, high pony, while you sit around swooning over sweetness, I’d like to get laid. I’ve fucking waited a long fucking time for the fucking, and I fucking plan on fucking, motherfucker.”
She blinked at me. “You don’t like the ponytail?”
I held a hand up to her face. “I can’t even with this. I gotta go.”
As I walked swiftly to my car, I heard her call out, “I heard Evan’s back in town. You going over there tonight?”
Instead of answering, I shot her the bird. Hell no, I wasn’t going over there tonight. If I did, I’d only make a giant fool of myself by begging and throwing myself at him. Or worse, blurting out my increasing anxiety about the Feathers job, which would undoubtably piss him off even more.
No. No going to Chief Sexy Dick’s house. A girl’s gotta have more dignity than that.
Right?
On my way home, I called Darius at the club.
“Any way you need me to work tonight? I don’t care what you have for me. I’ll do anything.”