Chapter4
A Snowy Lost Girl
GOLDIE
“What an absolute ass,” I rage for the tenth time since my shift started, as I haul another rack of dishes to the washer. I’m flush with anger, but at least at work there is air conditioning. I spent the day dripping in sweat, as I took my first whack at cleaning up that monstrous house.
“Are you sure he saw you?” Red asks for the second time, where she is polishing a wine glass.
Cinder is busy pouring a craft beer for Lysander, her attractive male friend who sits at the bar. For the past month, we’ve let him hang out at the Poison Apple before we open as we all patiently wait for Cinder or Lysander to make a move on each other. The pale, slender University student impassively listens, the image of art nouveau cool in his skinny jeans, horn-rimmed glasses, and sporting a beanie despite the summer heat. They met in a painting course and bonded over their love of gothic art and hatred of their professor.
Cinder already heard me complain about my dick neighbor even as we cleaned up the house as best we could, before moving in my large trunk’s worth of clothes.
Red and Cinder are the absolute best friends in the whole freaking world, and I promised them they could have as many staycations as they wanted at my bed and breakfast.
If they were okay sharing the same air as my jerk next-door neighbor.
“He definitely saw me,” I confirm. “He looked right at me, so I called my name out to him. Then he stood up and walked back inside, like I was some kind of disease he was afraid of catching.”
Something sour churns in my stomach at the slight. He’s an absolute ass, andabsolutelymade me feel like trash. How dare he?
No one gets to make me feel bad for being friendly. Not anymore. Not since I moved halfway across the country to get away from that. No way I’m going to move in next door to someone who thinks ripping down others joy is acceptable.
More than that, I hate that I don’t know his name so I can curse him. Of our group, I’m known as the interrogator. So not getting a proper response gives me an itch I can’t scratch.
I blame my extra orneriness on the fact I must have sweat four bucketloads and ruined my cute outfit. At the moment, I can’t spend any money on air conditioning units if I stand a chance at turning around even a fraction of the Victorian mansion.
But how dare my neighbor tarnish the beauty of my new dream with his rudeness on day one? I donotneed this right now. My jerk-wad quota is all filled up from Lawrence. He’s already turned about face and is blowing up my phone with alternating texts of contrition and irritation that I haven’t fallen back at his feet. My tolerance for any more of that bullshit is nonexistent.
“I didn’t see him,” Red says, pausing her polishing. “Is he some old angry dude who moved out to the forest to keep kids from stepping on his lawn?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t get a good look at him other than he was big, with dark hair and a beard, young-ish? But he was far away, and it’s hard to tell with guys who cover up with facial hair. I do know he wore plaid, like a sinister brawny man. His sleeves were rolled up, like he was ready to chop up someone’s joy for the day.” And mine had been on the block for him to cleave.
My anger only made me sweat more profusely. Grabbing a napkin, I blot my forehead not wanting to mess up my makeup. Gah, now that’s turned on, I can’t turn it off. I may need to go hide in the walk-in fridge to cool off both literally and figuratively.
The Lost Girls—aka Red, Cinder, and I—have a reputation to uphold at the Poison Apple. It is one of drink-slinging badassery and glamour.
After moving, we went back to Red’s place where we showered, primped and curled before slapping on our respective outfits. Red’s taut stomach is exposed between the low-slung leather pants and a crop top. It accentuates her sleeve of tattoos and navel ring. I opted for a tight, pink halter dress that puts all the focus on my generous cleavage. It’s so much easier to feel good when you know you look good. Or in my case, like hot pink fire that could decimate any man who should look upon me.
I suddenly wish my neighbor would walk in so he could get a bit singed.
“New Englanders are not known for their overabundance of friendliness,” Lysander points out before sipping on his craft beer the color of dark chocolate.
I wave a hand dismissively. “That’s a myth. If you are nice to people anywhere, they are nice back. It’s just people in the Northeast areaggressivelynice,” I point a finger and shake it. “Like—hey, you look lost, you better let me give you directions before I rush off to my very important next appointment and you’re welcome.” My south Boston accent is abysmal, but I feel I made my point. “But this guy is something else.”
“Do you need me to kill him?” a growly voice asks from across the bar. Long silver hair falls into the sharp, predatory eyes of Brexley Moon, Red’s fiancé. He is also known in some circles as the Big Bad Wolf, a notorious assassin and werewolf. He gave it up for his bride to be, moving fully into private security, but I have zero doubt his offer is idle.
While Red locked down a werewolf who could understand and accept her half mage, half werewolf heritage, sudden rages, and lusty episodes, I got what felt like a big brother.
And a whole lot of envy for their explosively passionate love affair rolled into what seems like domestic bliss.
“Can I let you know?” I ask Brexley with a sigh.
“Murder is a fireable offense,” Rap, aka Rapunzel, our boss at the Poison Apple says evenly from her stool next to Brexley, without looking up from her laptop. With her banana blonde and rainbow mohawk, tattered designer clothes, and resting bitch face, most people find her intimidating.
She may be a hard ass but she’s fair. And she has a soft spot for us Lost Girls who need a place to find our grounding and make some good money while we’re in college. If it weren’t for her, I would have never made it in this city. She always makes sure we have time for our studies, and a safe place to work. But apparently, she draws the line at murder.
Rap did, however, bend the line of the Poison Apple being a humans-only bar, seeing as Red is a full-blown level five mage and Brexley is a fae creature.
