Page 20 of Tracking Snow

Rap clears her throat. "You must be Ryder."

Finally finding her bearings, she pushes to her feet and stretches out a hand. Except the stool is right there behind her and he hasn't backed up, so she comes up with inches to spare, chin tipped, close enough to count his eyelashes.

Her cheeks flush as if she realizes she’s made a mistake. The man looks down at her with intent focus.

"Yes, ma’am, here for the interview," he says, extending his hand. As soon as they touch, the intended quick handshake slows until they are just holding each other’s hands, looking into each other’s eyes, fingers slightly shifting in each other’s grasp.

I find myself holding my breath as the chemistry is so intense it crowds out everything around it.

Then they break.

"Follow me to the office, and we’ll see if you are a good fit for our security." Rap is back to her usual no-nonsense tone and attitude, but what just happened wasn’t a crack. It was a godsdamned crater.

"Whoa," I say as soon as they’re gone.

"Whoa is right," Ariel says, watching after them too.

"That was...new," Isabelle adds.

"What’s new?" Goldie asks as she sashays behind the bar. In a pair of black leather pants that encase her generous figure, her corset sports her signature color, pink, which matches her lipstick.

The bubbly blonde bombshell only works the occasional shift since she went viral online and blew up as an influencer, basically gaining a new full-time job overnight. But I’m always ecstatic to see her since she’s the reason I work here at all.

Goldie plucked me off the streets when I was in between shit jobs, morale and self-confidence low as hell, and resorting to stealing honey packets from a coffee shop for sustenance.

"Rap’s tongue just rolled out of her head," I provide.

"Over a guy," Ariel clarifies.

Goldie’s laugh practically sparkles. "Haha, yeah right." Then she double-takes when we all remain dead serious, including Isabelle, who is no jokester.

Goldie’s smile fades as her eyes round. "Oh, holy shit."

"She’s interviewing him to be extra security." I waggle my brows.

"Oh good." Goldie presses a hand to her chest. "Ted has been really worried about all the disappearances lately. He gets so overprotective. I have to remind him I’ll teleport if I get spooked or feel unsafe. But he’ll feel better if he knows we got extra backup here."

"Don’t worry," I say, throwing an arm around Goldie’s waist and giving her a squeeze. “I’ll make sure no one touches you."

"She’d cut a bitch," Ariel chimes in as she builds our customary shift shot, Bad Apples. Vodka, raspberry liqueur, lime, and grenadine hit the shaker in quick, jewel-bright splashes. "Or whip out a flamethrower to defend you."

"Hell yeah, I would."

Ariel shakes the tin hard enough her copper hair bounces, then strains the Bad Apples into three shot glasses, each one glowing a wicked candy red.

We all raise a shot with a loud shout of glee and throw them back, in preparation for another busy banging night.

Chapter 7

Sniffing Snow

ONE

"Hello, my little stalker," I say without turning around.

"How do you do that?" The whine in Snow's voice hits me with a big slap of cute again.

No. Not cute. Not attractive, endearing, or even mildly amusing.