“I bet,” Pan says. “Anyone interesting?”
Rae and Lauren look at each other. Giggle.
Because…yeah, I’m sure that the five of us are a welcome change from the truckers and night-shift nurses. Five biker boys sauntering in on a slow, dusty afternoon, all gleaming helmets and black leather. For a girl working for minimum wage in the outskirts of London Valley, that’s the stuff dreams are made of.
If I were in their shoes, I’d do the same thing.
“Sometimes,” Rae says at last. Flirtily.
“Okay.” Fox returns, interrupting, oblivious, a fifty in his hand. “We’re good.” He flashes them his big broad grin, which they clearly don’t mind too much either. Fox has a smile that could sell toothpaste and a body that could sell…I don’t know, protein powder, or something. Whatever makes you big and strong like that.
But even for all that, he’s not the big get here, and he knows it. Doesn’t mind it.
Everybody loves Pan.
Everybody.
My heartbeat quickens a little.
“Oh.” Rae jolts back to life, blinking. “You want a bag?”
As she busies herself stuffing can after can into the plastic, a single black-gloved hand slams a pack of jerky on the counter.
“This too.” Blue. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Threatening. Helmet still on, visor down. It’s at least partially an act, the grumpy asshole thing.
But only partially.
Lauren’s eyes drift from the helmet to the jacket to the glimpse of tattoos crawling out from under every edge of his T-shirt.
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
Blue just shrugs.
“I bet you do.” Pan grabs the edge of Blue’s shirt and yanks it up, flashing his abs for all to see. “Ring a bell?”
“Omigod.” Lauren goes white. Rae bugs her eyes out, questioning, and Lauren gives her a definiteI’ll tell you laterlook in response.
Pan doubles over, cracking up. Blue flips Pan off, but nods to the girls. “Keep the change.” He strides off.
“Hey!” Kit appears at my side, frowning. “That wasmyfifty he gave them,” he grumbles. But he takes the bag from Rae, and offers me my drink without my asking.
Kit’s easy that way. I like that.
“Ask him for a kickback,” I tell him, cracking my tallboy and slugging it. “You know, if they subscribe to him after this.”
Fox laughs. “Yeah, like a finder’s fee.”
“More like a pimp.” Kit makes a face. “No thanks.”
They start bickering back and forth, but I tune it out, because Pan’s leaning over the counter again, his gold feather earring dangling, head cocked as he asks the girls some other question.
But then he pauses. Feels my eyes on him.
Looks at me.
I hold his gaze. Not too long. Just long enough to send a message.
To do what I’m here to do.
