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Authors: K. A. Tucker
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excuse to send me to Miami.
To scare me.
I’ve thought about just running. Packing my bags and disappearing into the night. But Sam’s earlier words hang over me like an ominous cloud. You can’t run from me . As long as Sam has a name, I’m afraid that he’ll find me.
And when he does . . .
What’s left? The plan. It’s a good plan.
I’ve created an entirely new person, complete with big, bold curls and brown eyes and layers of makeup, with equal parts perfection and flaw. A real person in the eyes of the unsuspecting.
Just not really me.
I’ll stay until I make enough money and arrange for a new identity. One that Sam doesn’t know about. And then I’ll run. I’ll fly to the farthest corner of the world.
I’ll disappear.
For real.
chapter five
■ ■ ■
CAIN
“We’re fully stocked again, thanks to moi !” Ginger’s husky voice hollers as I stroll past, on my way toward my office. The sound of clattering beer bottles stops and I drag my feet back to the walk-in fridge, where I find Ginger ass-up in her shorts, leaning over a keg, trying in vain to move it. The girl may be well toned, but she has no hope in hell of moving a 160-pound keg.
Without hesitation, I dive in and grab the other side. “You know Nate or one of the other guys will move all of these around, right?”
With a phssst sound, she smirks and mutters, “You know I don’t need a man for anything .”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Yes, Ginger. You’ve made that very clear.” Taking visual inventory of all the beer as I run a hand through the back of my hair, I mutter, “How did this happen?”
Ginger’s grin is nothing short of triumphant as she folds her arms over her ample chest and leans against the cooler wall. Streaks of blue that weren’t there yesterday run through her hair. “We really need to work on your charm with customer service, Cain.”
I wait for her to elaborate, knowing full well that it would take more than charm to get our fridges and shelves restocked that quickly, given the supposed shortage. Finally, Ginger confesses. “A small truck came by last night with sweet fuck-all. So . . .” The way she draws that word out, her pretty eyes averting to the ground, I know I’m not going to like what I hear. “Hannah and I gave the delivery guy a short demonstration of the private show he’d get if our supply room was somehow miraculously filled by tonight.”
“Jesus Christ, Ginger,” I groan as my forehead hits the door frame. I have a good idea of the kind of “show” those two could provide, given that they’ve been linked as an item in the past and are, at the very least, close friends. “You know I won’t let anyone prostit—”
“Hey!” She snaps her manicured fingers inches from my nose. She’s one of the few people who has the nerve to do that. “Don’t you dare use that word with me. We offered no such thing . But, if letting the fucktard get off in his pants while Hannah and I round second base means we don’t have to deal with angry customers all weekend, then I don’t give a rat’s ass who watches. I’ll do her full-on, right up on the stage!”
Ginger rarely gets snippy with me and she’s fairly private when it comes to her relationships, which means that the supply issues have started to wear on her. Unhappy customers generally mean shitty tips, and shitty tips means pissy staff. They work hard for their money.
I hold up my hands in surrender. Now that she’s negotiated this deal, backing out would guarantee an irate deliveryman and even worse service for who knows how long. “Okay, fine. But don’t ever offer anything like this again. And warn me so I can turn the cameras off, will you?” I don’t want any evidence of . . . anything. “And make sure you’ve got Ben or Nate outside that door, for safety.”
She winks. “You’re welcome.”
Shutting the cooler door on our way out, I add, “You know, I could use a full-time manager. You sure
To scare me.
I’ve thought about just running. Packing my bags and disappearing into the night. But Sam’s earlier words hang over me like an ominous cloud. You can’t run from me . As long as Sam has a name, I’m afraid that he’ll find me.
And when he does . . .
What’s left? The plan. It’s a good plan.
I’ve created an entirely new person, complete with big, bold curls and brown eyes and layers of makeup, with equal parts perfection and flaw. A real person in the eyes of the unsuspecting.
Just not really me.
I’ll stay until I make enough money and arrange for a new identity. One that Sam doesn’t know about. And then I’ll run. I’ll fly to the farthest corner of the world.
I’ll disappear.
For real.
chapter five
■ ■ ■
CAIN
“We’re fully stocked again, thanks to moi !” Ginger’s husky voice hollers as I stroll past, on my way toward my office. The sound of clattering beer bottles stops and I drag my feet back to the walk-in fridge, where I find Ginger ass-up in her shorts, leaning over a keg, trying in vain to move it. The girl may be well toned, but she has no hope in hell of moving a 160-pound keg.
Without hesitation, I dive in and grab the other side. “You know Nate or one of the other guys will move all of these around, right?”
With a phssst sound, she smirks and mutters, “You know I don’t need a man for anything .”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Yes, Ginger. You’ve made that very clear.” Taking visual inventory of all the beer as I run a hand through the back of my hair, I mutter, “How did this happen?”
Ginger’s grin is nothing short of triumphant as she folds her arms over her ample chest and leans against the cooler wall. Streaks of blue that weren’t there yesterday run through her hair. “We really need to work on your charm with customer service, Cain.”
I wait for her to elaborate, knowing full well that it would take more than charm to get our fridges and shelves restocked that quickly, given the supposed shortage. Finally, Ginger confesses. “A small truck came by last night with sweet fuck-all. So . . .” The way she draws that word out, her pretty eyes averting to the ground, I know I’m not going to like what I hear. “Hannah and I gave the delivery guy a short demonstration of the private show he’d get if our supply room was somehow miraculously filled by tonight.”
“Jesus Christ, Ginger,” I groan as my forehead hits the door frame. I have a good idea of the kind of “show” those two could provide, given that they’ve been linked as an item in the past and are, at the very least, close friends. “You know I won’t let anyone prostit—”
“Hey!” She snaps her manicured fingers inches from my nose. She’s one of the few people who has the nerve to do that. “Don’t you dare use that word with me. We offered no such thing . But, if letting the fucktard get off in his pants while Hannah and I round second base means we don’t have to deal with angry customers all weekend, then I don’t give a rat’s ass who watches. I’ll do her full-on, right up on the stage!”
Ginger rarely gets snippy with me and she’s fairly private when it comes to her relationships, which means that the supply issues have started to wear on her. Unhappy customers generally mean shitty tips, and shitty tips means pissy staff. They work hard for their money.
I hold up my hands in surrender. Now that she’s negotiated this deal, backing out would guarantee an irate deliveryman and even worse service for who knows how long. “Okay, fine. But don’t ever offer anything like this again. And warn me so I can turn the cameras off, will you?” I don’t want any evidence of . . . anything. “And make sure you’ve got Ben or Nate outside that door, for safety.”
She winks. “You’re welcome.”
Shutting the cooler door on our way out, I add, “You know, I could use a full-time manager. You sure
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