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ChapterOne
Devyn
“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING, JACKASS!”
Traffic in downtown Atlanta always sucks, but I swear these drivers took an extra shot of stupid this morning, because no one can drive. Gripping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles, I swerve around the red sedan that almost made me wreck and punch the gas, flipping him off as I pull ahead. He’s cussing me in my rearview mirror, brows pulled low over his eyes as he points a meaty finger at me, but I ignore him. If I don’t hurry up, I’m going to lose my customers to a taxi, and I can’t afford that. My half of the rent is due, and I only need ten more rides to cover it.
Ten more rides.
Easy.
I can totally—
Traffic comes to an abrupt stop again, and I cuss, throwing my head back against the headrest and staring at the roof of my ten-year-old Altima. Brown spots dot the material from where I slammed on my brakes last week and slung my coffee across the car and myself.
I chuckle to myself.
At the time, it wasn’t funny at all, but when I arrived to pick up customers drenched in caramel macchiato, it made for good conversation. They’d even left me a tip.
Tips.Six months ago, I didn’t have to worry about such an inconsistent way of paying my bills. Hell, I hardly had any bills to worry about considering my ex-fiancé took care of almost everything. Things had been much simpler, much easier back then. Now, my entire life depends on spare dollars given to me by strangers and how many rides I make.
It’s crazy how much things can change in a short amount of time.
I pull down the visor to check my reflection in the mirror while I wait on the cars ahead to get going again and note a few strands of blonde that are out of place. Running my fingers through my hair to fix them, I check the black liner around my blue eyes and the burgundy stain on my lips. Nothing amiss. Satisfied, I flip the visor back up and drum my fingers on the steering wheel until traffic moves a few seconds later.
After several minutes of stop-and-go traffic, I finally make it to an exit and veer off the interstate. I hightail it across town, my eyes darting to the GPS on my phone between red lights to double-check the directions, and I hardly notice my surroundings as they zip by in a blur. After what feels like much longer than the few minutes it takes to reach my destination, I screech to a stop in front of a ritzy bar and send a message through the Uber app to let the customers know I’m here.
A shaky breath passes my lips as I come off my adrenaline high. Speeding through downtown always spikes my pulse.
I’m not made for hectic city life.
Dipping my head to look through the passenger side window, I scour the sidewalk, searching for anyone who looks like they could be waiting on a ride. A few people walk by, passing me without a backward glance, and my chest flares with panic. I’d waited in a McDonald’s parking lot for half an hour before my phone pinged with this job notification, and without it, I wouldn’t be any closer to paying my rent.
I wait a few more tense minutes, my fingers tapping away nervously at the console, and my mind flashes with the dismal possibility of what could happen if I don’t make rent on time.
Our landlord was gracious last month when I lost my full-time job and it took me a few extra days to come up with the money, but I doubt he’ll be so understanding a second time. Apartments are nearly impossible to come by in the city, and he has a laundry list of potential renters waiting to swoop in if any properties become available.
Borrowing money from someone isn’t an option. I don’t have any family. I bounced around the foster system until I aged out and moved in with my ex. And my roommate, Cara, is a full-time student. She doesn’t have change to spare most days, so asking her if I can borrow money is out of the question. If we don’t make rent, I won’t be the only one getting evicted.
No. I definitely can’t be late again.
I’m about to give up and pull away from the curb, when two well-dressed gentlemen turn the corner and head straight for my car, making my heart thrum eagerly in my chest.
The first is tall and lean, with blond hair that swoops over a pair of dark blue eyes. He’s wearing gray dress pants and a freshly pressed white button-up, and a gold watch gleams on one of his wrists.
The second man is shorter and broader, with long brown hair that’s pulled into a short ponytail and eyes so dark they almost look black. His black button-up is pulled taut over bulging muscles, and a neatly trimmed beard defines his jawline.
Separately, they’re both breathtaking, but together, they look a little odd—like the CEO of a company and his burly security guard. Or a bank teller and a club bouncer.
They pause by my passenger door, and I frantically roll down the window, praying these are the customers I’ve been waiting on. The blond man bends to peer in the window and locks eyes with me before an attractive smirk pulls at his lips.
“Divine?” he asks, his voice a sexy rumble in his throat.
A nervous chuckle pushes past my lips. I’ve never heard that one before, but damn does it sound incredible when he says it.
“It’s Devyn,” I correct, finally finding my voice.
His eyes are unnaturally blue, like shards of sapphire—they have to be contacts—and my skin tingles with goose bumps before his smirk widens into a grin.
