Page 22 of Firecracker (Smoke)


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“Mine?” I asked.

“You like anything peanut butter and chocolate. Right?”

I nodded.

“The cake is for you.”

A shocked laugh bubbled out of me. “I can’t eat that whole cake.” But it was sweet.

Trev Hughes was trying to be sweet. He was also more than likely trying to get in my pants. Not that I was against that idea. I just knew better. We didn’t need to go down that road.

“Then, come to the house tonight. We can share it.”

“Your house?” I asked, my heart rate speeding up. This was a terrible suggestion.

“Certainly not Sax’s. I have the better pool,” he replied. “Sax can come too. We will make it a small party. But the cake is yours regardless.”

I looked past him to Saxon, who was watching us from the table. Why did it feel like if I agreed, he would be disappointed in me? He was Trev’s best friend. Besides, he would be there. It wouldn’t be just me and Trev. There would be other people. Girls. There would be other girls. Trev would have one or more hanging on him.

My stomach knotted up. “Uh, um … I don’t think I can tonight. I need to do laundry this evening, and I have work tomorrow morning.” It was lame, but I couldn’t go to his house and watch him with some bikini-wearing girls rubbing all over him.

“You turning me down for laundry, Lollipop?”

“No. I’m explaining why I can’t tonight.”

He wasn’t accustomed to being told no. It was obvious. He finally turned around with the tray and walked over to the table. The doorbell chimed, and I had never been more relieved to have a customer.

Over the next hour, I barely got a break. Trev had left after finishing his sandwich. I’d been busy, but he saluted me as he backed out of the door. Seeing him leave had made me sad. Which was another reason I had done the right thing by telling him no. The cake had been left with Saxon, and every time I glanced over at it, my chest squeezed.

Trev had come here to make amends in his own way. It wasn’t his fault he was so dang gorgeous. The one-hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar only made me feel worse. He was trying to be friends, and I hadn’t been very accommodating. I had let my fear of seeing him with other girls again stand in the way.

When three o’clock came around, I went to lock the door, then turned to Saxon. “It’s closing time. As much as I like seeing you, you can’t sleep here,” I teased.

He chuckled. “Damn. That was my plan.”

When he didn’t stand up to go, I walked back over to the register to begin balancing the drawer before cleaning up.

“He was being nice, and I was a jerk,” I said, frustrated.

“You were not even close to being a jerk,” Saxon replied. “You were being smart.”

I pulled out the money from the tip jar and sighed. “But why? He wants to be friends. Our parents are dating. I should stop pushing him away.”

Saxon stood up. “Do you really think he just wants to be friends?”

I held Saxon’s gaze a moment, then sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know. Trev is a player. I don’t think he can do anything but flirt.” I pointed to the cake. “He bought me a cake. A peanut butter and chocolate cake. I’ve always wanted to try it, but every time we have it, the thing sells out before my shift is over. And he bought me the entire cake. I shouldn’t have turned down his invitation.”

My cell phone dinged, and I pulled it out of my back pocket. It was from my mom.

I’m going to dinner with Garrett tonight, and he’s asked me to stay over at his house. Are you okay? How do you feel about that? I’m not sure I should leave you at the trailer alone until we know … it’s safe. What if you stay over at Garrett’s too? Would you do that?

I read over the text three times. It was as if fate was trying to right my wrong.

Lifting my gaze, I looked at Saxon. “My mom wants to stay at Garrett’s tonight but wants me to stay too. So she won’t worry about me being alone.”

Saxon chuckled. “You want to go, Gypsi? Then, go. I’ll take you home. Get your things. Then, we will head over to Trev’s.”

I would be going to his house after all. The buzz of excitement over seeing him again today was not a good sign.

Ten

Gypsi

Standing in the living area of the camper—also known as my bedroom—I clutched my bikini while staring in horror at the small plastic ring on my pillow. Gold and blue. Another replica. I backed away until my back hit the kitchen sink, gulping for air.

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