Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
There has been a werewolf attack.
A buttered muffin has priority over dress rehearsals.
It’s show your tits at work day.
“Nora?”
I heard the jingle of keys before I cracked an eye open. Blinking up at a ceiling that wasn’t my apartment but still very familiar.
“Nora, are you in? The door is unlocked.”
Something shifted next to me. Not something—someone. John’s brow furrowed. My gaze dropped down to our still-naked bodies, just as I caught sight of the bleach-blonde locks of my best friend from where I currently lay behind the counter.
“What happened to the sofa?” He bent out of sight. “What in the debauchery—?”
“Otis,” I said, straightening to stand and hiding my boobs behind my hands.
My best friend froze mid-scrutiny over the mostly empty whiskey bottle clutched in his hands. His steely eyes sharpened, and his mouth hung slack. Then he popped his hand on his hip. “I wasn’t aware it was show your tits at work day. I would’ve brought the body glitter.”
“I can explain.” My eyes shifted to the sofa, wincing. “I think.”
John took that moment to blink awake beneath me. “That’s a sight I could get used to.” He looked up at me, from where I stood, buck naked, all my good parts on full display.
Otis’s eyes became the size of flying saucers. He stood on his tiptoes to get a better look. “Oh, we’re having a visitor, are we? That explains the shreds of clothing strewn around the place. One would think there’d been a werewolf attack.” He lifted my panties from the floor with one finger.
I snatched them out of his hand just as John decided to give Otis an eyeful.
“Morning,” John said with a sheepish grin. Inky curls stood up in every direction. His chest was bare, save for a few red scratch marks. Something suspiciously looking like a hickey started to bruise on his collarbone. The rest was thankfully covered by the cash counter.
Otis ogled without shame, which made me feel oddly territorial. “I’m pleased to see Nora is taking her customer service a little more seriously.” He wiggled his brows. “Why don’t I get you beauties some coffee and let you cover up your naughty bits?”
“Excellent idea. Remind me to give you a pay raise.”
When the front door clicked closed and locked, John and I burst into laughter.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself smiling into my black coffee, as John tried to reassemble the sofa.
Otis smirked, unboxing a stack of books. “Fun night?”
I couldn’t have stopped the grin if I wanted to. “It was rather eventful.”
I would’ve thought John would run off first thing, busy with being famous and all, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Between glueing wood and screwing…things, he kept stealing lingering glances my way.
“Good lord, I’m trying to work here,” Otis said, but he was smiling when John left the shop to take a call outside. “How many times?” he added, wiggling his brows.
“Too many to count,” I said, not missing a beat.
He nodded. “Nice. You needed a good banging.”
I slapped him with a book.
He leaned against the counter, watching me.
“What?”
“How is your heart?” Otis was more serious than I’d ever seen him.
I pulled non-existent lint off my sweater. I didn’t know what to say that wasn’t an outrageous lie, and I knew he could tell right away.
So I changed the subject. “How’s your play?”
Otis straightened, but the usual gleam in his eyes that appeared whenever theater was mentioned was absent. “Great, fantastic. I’ll probably get an Oscar.”
“Not sure that’s how it works, but okay.”
“Well, you would know how outstanding I am, if you’d been at the dress rehearsal last night as promised.”
“Oh, shit.” I clasped my hands over my mouth. “I totally forgot. John brought me home and then he met Mom, and then we…” I waved my hand around the room. “I’m sorry, Otis. I was—”
“Busy getting your muffin buttered, I know,” he said, but stopped when a woman who had just entered the shop put her hands over her toddler’s ears. Otis ignored her outraged expression.
“It’s just a temporary thing. After this week, we’re going back to normal, just hopefully a lot richer.” I put clearance stickers on a stack of slightly damaged books.
Otis leaned on the counter, trying to catch my gaze. “And you’ll be fine? With him gone?” He nodded toward the shop window, where John was pacing, still on his phone. He saw me watch him and winked.
It did unfair things to me. “Yes, absolutely.”
I was sure even the toddler currently eating his own booger could tell I was lying.
I sighed inwardly. If I didn’t win this competition, I’d lose the store.
It would be the end of the road. There was no plan B because I’d never once allowed myself to think that Skye’s could actually close.
What a future without it would look like.
If Jeremy and May won this, it would hurt.
But if John won—even though right now the mere thought of hating him seemed a galaxy away—I didn’t know if I could stop myself.
The thought that he could take this away caused me physical pain. And for what? He had still not told me.
John stepped back into the shop. “I’m afraid I have to run. Didn’t think dropping you off would cause such a delay.” He smirked sheepishly. “Can I see you before the week is over?” His hand reached for mine.
I let him take it but couldn’t shake the question that had been nagging at me.
“Why, John?”
He tilted his head. “I can imagine a whole lot of things I’d like to do to you before—”
I shook my head. “Not what I meant. But good to know you have an itinerary at the ready.” I tried to push the thought away and got to the question that had been swimming in my brain ever since John stepped into the cabin. “Why this competition? What is it to you?”
John’s eyes shadowed.
Otis walked backward until he melted into the shadows of the bookshelf.
“Give me a truth,” I urged him. “What’s in this for you? It can’t be the money or the fame. Are you having a midlife crisis?” I tried to keep my voice light, but the hurt snuck through, hiding behind each syllable. I shrugged, hoping to push the question out. “Is it a stupid bet you’ve—”
He winced.
I pulled my hand from his, the room suddenly feeling unbearably quiet.
“Holy shit. It’s a bet, isn’t it?”
There, between a flickering light bulb and a stack of Percy Jackson books, I saw so many emotions flash across his face all at once that I wondered if his facial muscles would freeze in that contorted state.
His brow creased—frustration. His lip curled—anger.
He closed his eyes—shame. He let out a deep breath—regret.
“What do you get if you win this, John? A round of drinks from your colleagues and a pat on the back?”
My words came out venomous. “A date with a supermodel? What?” I knew I was being unreasonable. I knew I was being childish.
His voice came out dark when he finally spoke. “I should’ve never let it get this far.”
My alarm bells didn’t just ring—they screamed. I turned away from him, not wanting to hear what he stood to gain while I was about to lose the store. Instead, I busied my hands, angrily unpacking delivery boxes.
“Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” The fury inside me spread like wildfire, consuming all the fuzzy feelings I had waking up this morning. All the kisses, touches, and glimpses behind the curtain were suddenly reduced to ash. I couldn’t believe it. A fucking bet.
“It’s not easy to explain.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, John.” I said, suddenly way too focused on finding a sharpened pencil to stab him with. Or maybe myself. Hadn’t decided yet.
“Nora—”
“I thought you had to go?” I slammed the drawer shut, closing the conversation for good. When he caught my gaze, his expression shattered. I had told him I could never hate him. Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what he saw.
He nodded, looking at his boots, then back up at me. “You’re right. Let’s not make this more complicated.”
He nodded to Otis before heading for the door.
“I’ll see you at the announcement then.”