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“Do you have any side gigs in mind?” Scarlett asked.

“Not really.” Tutoring, pet sitting, barista-ing (was that a word?)—I’d done it all. Some gigs were more enjoyable than others, but no matter what it was, something always happened that left me out of a job. Once, the family I was pet-sitting for became late-in-life hippies and packed up their house to join a commune.

Seriously.

“Maybe I can look for another barista job,” I mused. “The latte art was fun, and⁠—”

“No!” Scarlett and Brooklyn shouted at the same time.

I startled.

“I mean, uh, there are better options out there,” Scarlett said. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

I gave her a grateful smile.

Scarlett and I had been friends for years. She’d been an up-and-coming prima ballerina until a car accident derailed her professional dance career. She was now a teacher at the Royal Ballet Academy, which was where we’d met and bonded over our mutual love for puzzles and trashy reality shows.

Brooklyn was originally from California, but she’d moved to London a few years ago to intern with Blackcastle’s nutrition team. She and Scarlett met outside a nightclub, before either of them knew the other’s connection to the team. Scarlett saved her from an attempted mugging, they became friends, we became friends, and the rest was history.

They’d been my rock throughout this entire journey. I couldn’t hold down a second job to save my life, but at least I had a great support system.

“What’s with the long faces?” Vincent asked, walking over with fresh drinks in hand. He slid into the seat next to Brooklyn while I stood so Asher could squeeze in between me and Scarlett. “What’d we miss? I thought we were supposed to be celebrating! We beat fucking Chelsea!”

“We are, but…” Brooklyn filled the guys in on my short, sad saga.

“Oh, shit.” Asher gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Carina. That’s awful.”

“It’s okay. These things happen.”

It wasn’t really okay, but complaining about it wouldn’t help. I allowed myself twenty-four hours to wallow in self-pity over any given situation. After that, I needed to get my ass into gear and move on.

“Do you need a second job?” Vincent asked. “You’re close to your goal, right? Can your salary from RAB take care of the rest?”

I shook my head. “Most of that goes toward rent, food, and transportation. If I relied on just one salary, I’d have to wait at least another year before I hit my goal. And that’s if I stop going out and subsist solely on instant ramen for the next twelve months.”

Of all the childhood dreams to have, I’d chosen the most absurdly expensive one: visiting Antarctica so I could see its penguins in person. I’d been obsessed with Antarctic penguins since I watched a documentary about them as a kid.

Unfortunately, living in London was equally expensive, which was why I’d had to supplement my income with a second job. RAB paid for my life; my side gigs paid for my dream.

A thoughtful expression crossed Asher’s face. “I have an idea. But you have to be open-minded.”

Okay. Intriguing.

Before I could ask what it was, Vincent looked past me with a giant grin. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Are my eyes deceiving me? Has the great keeper himself deigned to grace us with his presence?”

“Funny.” The deep, rumbly voice behind me rolled over my skin and down my spine. “Don’t make me regret coming out.”

The voice was now next to me.

My arms pebbled with goose bumps as a shadow fell over the table. Broad shoulders, chiseled lines.

Unmistakable even in shadow form.

I took another sip of my terrible piña colada while my friends greeted him. Soon, I was the only person left who hadn’t acknowledged his presence, so I finally steeled myself, set my drink aside, and looked up, straight into the implacable green eyes of Noah Wilson.

CHAPTER 3

NOAH