Chapter 2
TWO
KYRA
He’s been staring at me for what feels like a solid ten minutes.
“Can I help?” I prompt the guy to talk, reaching blindly for my chair while I hold his frozen gaze.
Janis said the job would be quiet; not many people need physical council services these days, since most of what they require can be accessed online. But if I’d had to place money on who’d walk through the timber front doors today, he would not have been on the list.
“Janis left me some shit to pick up for our property on East Levee Road.”
He speaks. “Some shit,” I echo with a hint of tease in my voice.
Lush lips thin with frustration. “Copies of permits and a signed inspection.”
“Thank you.” My mouth quirks up in a half smile as I lean right to retrieve the nondescript envelope. “How have you been?”
He pulls back, muscled arm sliding off the counter as he straightens to his full height.
Hell’s bells. I know they’re not the most sociable bunch, but you think conversation wouldn’t be such a sticking point for the guy.
“I’ve been fine,” I sass as I slide the envelope across the polished timber toward him. “Thanks for asking.”
His brow furrows. Delicate lines form in his tanned skin.
I’ve rattled the man, but what confuses me more is why. “Do you not remember me?” I tilt my head.
His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I mean…”
It’s been a few years, sure. But, “Marty’s daughter. Kyra.”
Acknowledgment registers briefly across his face, yet the relief I expected doesn’t come. If anything, he stiffens more.
I slide my chair out and tentatively drop onto it.
“I know we were a few years apart in school, but I thought perhaps you’d recognize me.
” I jerk the mouse back and forth to wake the computer screen, gaze fixated on the generic council emblem screensaver to save from making the situation any more awkward. “Sorry.”
His hair wasn’t quite as long then, and he spent as much time truant as he did in class, but I’d never forget those eyes. Light brown with flecks of gold like sunlight catching honey, they were the reason I never looked away when we passed in the halls.
“I just…” He stumbles over his words, hands pinching the edges of the envelope in intervals. “You’ve changed your hair since then.”
So he does remember. “You mean, I stopped dying and straightening it to within an inch of its life?” I steal glances at him as I type in my login details. “You’ve let yours grow out.”
He pushes a nervous hand through the sun-bleached lengths. “Yeah.”
My gaze drops to the badge stitched on his chest. “Vice President, huh?” Then the one above it. “Jinx. Is that what they call you now?”
He nods, lips rolling together.
“Take it you’re not the spokesperson for the club.” My joke falls flat, and confusion twists his brow again.
It’s almost cute. As is the slight twitch of his nose.
“You don’t say much,” I explain, swiveling my chair to face him. “Guess some things don’t change.”
“I’m sorry.” He backs up a step, leather creaking with his movement, and looks down at the envelope as he flicks the end open. “It’s just… hell,” he breathes. “You look so different.”
Different? Or like the real me? “Losing the braces and gaining weight will do that to a person,” I jest. My chest pangs with the truth of the matter. Maybe not different, just healthy.
“What brought you back?” He balloons the envelope and reaches inside to slide the contents out.
I shrug as I turn back to the computer. “Guess I’d achieved what I wanted by leaving.” My gaze fights to return to him as he flicks through the papers on the counter, yet I fixate on the empty screen, eyes burning.
“Kyra?”
I glance up and blink away the ache.
“These ain’t mine.” He spins the documents so they sit right-side up for me.
“What?” I jerk out of the chair to reach for the stapled report. “Oh my God.” They aren’t. They so aren’t.
Chest tight, I glance at the ‘Out’ tray and hope to find another envelope. Empty, faded grey plastic stares back at me.
“Shit. I must have mixed them up with Mariana’s.” My stomach sours. I’m going to have to call her. Explain.
She intimidated me badly enough when we were teenagers. The thought of outlining my ineptitude to her now has my palms sweating with trepidation. Some things definitely don’t change.
I swore that my lack of experience wouldn’t be an issue for Janis. I know she only hired me as a favor to my dad. Three days on the job, and I’ve proved why she would have been better off canceling her long weekend and sticking around to train me a little longer.
Nobody ever comes in, my ass. She swore I’d be okay, and here I am, fucking up the simplest task.
“It’s fine.” Jinx reaches inside his cut and tugs out his phone. “I’ll give her a call. Hopefully she’s not too far away.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s my first week.”
“Relax.” Ironically, he finally does. His tense shoulders drop as he brings up her number and hits Call. “They’re permits, not somebody’s tax records.”
But they could have been. They could have been any number of personal records.
I rub my clammy hands down the legs of my jeans and draw a deep breath.
The fucking irony. Put a screen between me and the world, and my confidence knows no bounds.
But stick me in a room with a living, breathing person, and all my insecurities line up for a turn at the front line.
“Hey,” Jinx greets as he turns side-on to me. “I need you to come back.” He pauses, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he listens. “You’ve got my paperwork, and I’ve got yours.” He turns to face me, phone still to his ear, and smiles when he rests his elbows on the counter.
My stomach flutters, and I’m not all that sure it’s just the nerves.
Phone to his chest, he whispers, “She doesn’t believe me, so she’s checking.” A noise comes from the device, and he places it back to his ear.
I’m lost tracing the lines of the man while he argues with Mariana that it’s as much her fault for not checking before she left as it is mine, my gaze running the slope of his shoulders, then the swell of his back as he turns away to mutter something low and terse at her.
I knew his father was part of the club when we were in school.
Hell, it was unavoidable to know in my household, what with my father new on the job in the local police force and my retired law enforcement grandfather never hesitant to share his discord with Jinx’s family over the dinner table.
History runs deep. The McGuires are the town rabble-rousers, riding around with a middle finger to the world.
And my family are the straight-and-narrow rule-followers, self-appointed to pull them into line.
We come from absolute opposite ends of the spectrum, which is why I stayed content with watching him from afar during high school.
A guilty pleasure. A teenage fantasy.
And here he now stands, leather slung over his back with a leering skull that reminds me why some things are meant to stay untouched.
“She’s on her way,” he announces in smooth tones, pocketing his phone. “Don’t let her give you any shit. It’s an honest mistake.”
“I should have checked.” I shrug, dropping my gaze to the desk before me.
“So should she,” he growls, pulling my focus back up.
I meet warm eyes beneath a furrowed brow, his honesty evident as he studies my face.
“Man,” Jinx breathes. “It’s only been, what, ten years? Yet you’ve changed so damn much.”
Yeah. That was the goal.