“Fine.” I give him a quick hug and walk to the door.
“Adrian says you picked up shifts at the bar.”
“Yeah.” I idle by the door. “I used the money you gave me for the deposit, but that’ll only cover a month, so I told Uncle Adrian I’d help out at the bar a few days a week.”
“As long as it doesn’t compromise your GPA.” Dad raises an eyebrow.
“It won’t.”
“Good.” He gives one final nod before I leave his office.
It takes me a good hour before I actually leave the practice behind and head to my uncle’s bar on the other side of town. When I get there, I park in the employee parking in the back, walk in through the back door, which is always unlocked, and head to the kitchen.
“Josephine Canó,” Donovan, the head chef says. “I heard you were going to start working here but I could not believe it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not coming for your job.”
“You bet your ass you’re not, unless you’re going to attend the best culinary school in the country and go train in France.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, no. I can barely cook chicken.” I smile. “I’ll be manning the bar.”
“The bar.” Donovan gives me an appreciative nod. “Where the tips are.”
“Exactly.” I laugh.
“I heard about that little accident you got into. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. That’s the problem.”
“You totaled it then? A freaking Maserati?”
“That’s what they’re accusing me of.”
“What you driving now? Your daddy give you your old car back?”
“Hardly.” I scoff. “But a car is a car, right?”
“What kind of car is it?” The gleam in his eyes tells me he probably already knows, but I play along anyway because Donovan is like an uncle to me and all my uncles are full of jokes and leg pulling.
“Celica. It’s like a ninety-two or something with a non-existing heater and a messed-up radio.”
“Daaaaaamn.” He laughs loudly. “The fall from grace was bad, huh?” He laughs again. “What color is it?”
“Gold.” I scowl, but I’m trying really hard not to laugh along with him even though he’s being a total asshole.
“Gold.” He laughs louder. “Shit. My brother had that car in high school.” He stops laughing. “Did your dad buy it from him?”
I shrug. “Probably. Who else has junk cars lying around?”
“Damn, Jo. Have you ever even driven a used car?”
“I have now.”
“I want to feel sorry for you, but I always did say you and your sister were too spoiled for your own good.” He shakes his head.
“I know.” I sigh. “We are.”
“I bet Misty is being extra careful with her Benz these days.”
I nod, hoping my expression tells him I want this conversation to be over already. Of course, Donovan knows I didn’t want to have this conversation to begin with, but here we are.
“See you later, Don.” I start walking toward the door that leads to the bar.
“Later, Jojo.”
“I thought I saw that junk car of yours in the cameras,” Uncle Adrian says with a wide smile when I reach the bar.
“Hilarious. You’re all a bunch of grade A comedians here,” I deadpan.
“Aw, come on, Jo. We’re just messing with you.” He pulls me into a quick hug. “You ready to work?”
“Work? I came here to drink. I told you I’d start in two days.”
“Yeah, well, Marissa called out and it’s college night, so I kinda need extra hands.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath.
How bad can it be to serve a bunch of college kids half-priced drinks and ninety-nine cent beers?
Chapter 2
Jo
It’s bad.
They’re rowdy and demanding and keeping up with the orders is proving to be a pain in the ass. There’s a loud slap of hands on the bar in front of me and I glance up to see a guy on the other side. I have to do a double take and in my overwhelmed state it takes me a full minute to realize who he is, and when it hits me, I stop wiping the glass in my now shaky hands and look up at him again. He’s tall, with a natural golden tan, defined muscles, a chiseled jaw, voluminous dark hair, and unforgettable piercing toffee-colored eyes. Memories flood me quickly, and I chase them away twice as fast.
“We asked for a round of tequila shots well over ten minutes ago,” he says, his deep voice hitting me right in the chest.
“I’ll be right over,” I say, glancing around for Patrick, who’s probably the one working their table. “We’re extremely understaffed today.”
“I’ve seen Marissa man this bar by herself, so I wouldn’t say having two people working is being understaffed.” He raises an eyebrow.
I grip the side of the bar and lean in so that I don’t have to yell over the loud music. “I know it’s difficult for a hot shot, spoiled brat like you to sit and wait for a couple of minutes while other patrons who were actually here before you are served, but I’m not Marissa and I’m not going to drop everything I’m doing and fall all over myself just so you and your brothers can get a shot of tequila.” My eyes narrow on his. “Wait your turn.”
“This is bullshit,” he grits out.
“Take it up with management.”
“Right, because management is going to do something about it when you’re their little fucking princess.” He scoffs.
“Go back to your table, Jagger. I’ll have someone out there with your shots momentarily.” I stare at him.
He stares back with just as much annoyance in his eyes before turning around and stomping back over to his table. I take nice long breaths to calm down and go right back to what I was doing. When I look down, I laugh. His ticket was next. If he’d just waited at his table, he would have drunk his stupid shot by now. The ticket doesn’t specify what kind of tequila he wants, so I serve him our most expensive one and take out a tray of six glasses to his table. The Cruz brothers are gorgeous, drop-dead gorgeous, if you’re into hyperboles, except their gorgeousness isn’t an exaggeration.
They truly are the epitome of sexy, with their tanned complexions that has nothing to do with self-tanners or the sun, and everything to do with their dark-skinned father, who happens to be my father’s good friend. One of them got green eyes from his mother, while the other two have brown eyes, but only Jagger’s smoldering toffee-colored eyes can make anyone’s heart flip. Or maybe it’s just that Maverick, the youngest, hasn’t figured out what to do with all that swagger he was blessed with. Despite our parents being friends and us seeing one another a lot growing up, I haven’t seen them in years, with them living in New York and all. I set the tray down on the table, doing my best to ignore Jagger’s glare, because I don’t have to look at him to know he’s definitely glaring. He always is. At me, anyway. He’s perfectly cordial and charming to everyone else.
“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here, Jo,” Maverick says, picking up two shot glasses. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“First day here.” I smile. “You’ve grown up.”
“I have.” He grins and it hits me just how grown up he is.
“Hey, Jo,” Mitchell says, smiling at me. “Is Misty working here too?”
“Nope.”
“I heard about the car accident. I’m glad you’re okay,” Mav adds.
“Thanks.” I give him a tight smile. Leave it to my mother to gossip about her own daughter’s car accident, no doubt she told Mildred Cruz everything.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Mav says. “How long has it been? A year? Two?”
“A long time.”
“Where you been? You still dating the quarterback for Duke?” Mitch asks, his mouth pulling with disgust.
“Lawrence,” Mav supplies.
“Oh shit. Right.” Mitch glances over at Jagger momentarily.
“Nope. We’re done.”
“How’s your sister?” Mitch asks.
“She’s doing really well.” I smile. “I’ll tell her you say hi.”
“Please do.” He smiles.
Misty had been heartbroken for nearly a year when Mitch broke off their summer fling and told her he didn’t do long distance. I didn’t understand her hang up since they weren’t even together that long, but then I did the stupidest thing when I ran into Jagger freshman year and hooked up with him. A stupid, drunken, rookie mistake and I fully grasped why she’d been so heartbroken. I only had one night with Jagger and felt like I could have easily spiraled down the rabbit hole he would’ve no doubt led me to. My sister spent three months with Mitch. If they were anything alike, providing their undivided attention to a woman and making them feel special, I knew a breakup had to be awful. There aren’t many things I regret, but that one-night stand was something I could say for certain I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Ever since then, I’ve done everything in my power to stay away from him and vowed to take that little secret rendezvous to the grave. Not even Misty knows about that and my sister is my best friend.
“I would ask if you’re going to the barbecue on Sunday but I heard you always skip those,” Mav says.
“Hm. I usually do, but I might just go this time.” I usually skip the barbecues my parents throw because they coincide with the one Lawrence used to take me to for his own college, but now that we’re done, I might as well drop by for this one.
“I’ll have another shot.” Jagger sets down both shot glasses in front of him with a clink. “Two more rounds for all of us. Maybe you’ll bring them in the next hour this time.”
“It was good to catch up.” I smile at Mav and Mitch as I grab all six glasses and put them on my tray and walk away, seething.
It’s one thing for him to berate me privately, but in front of his brothers? Fuck him.
Chapter 3
Jo
I rush over to the door and pull it open. I made sure to get here fifteen minutes early so that I can pick where I want to sit—all the way in the back row of the classroom. It’s a big one, too. Finite Math isn’t normally for upperclassmen, certainly not for seniors like me, but Mom said it was the easiest math course and I just really needed to pass, so here I am. I’m a straight A student in everything else. My parents have never understood how a girl who has had math tutors her entire life just can’t get a handle on the subject, and honestly, I don’t understand it either. I slide into the furthest chair from the professor’s desk, which also happens to be the furthest chair from the side door. I’m about to move closer to it when it opens and a slew of students step inside. Keeping my head down, I take out a pen and notebook. On the syllabus, there are clear instructions about having no computers in class.
The professor walks in and smiles, saying hello to the class before taking a seat behind the desk and opening her bag. She starts taking out papers and stacking them on her desk. She seems nice. According to Mom, who works here as well and gets the dirt on everyone, the professor recently came back from maternity leave, which makes sense. She’s absolutely glowing. The side door opens again and I don’t look, but instantly know who just walked in, judging by the chatter that started. I slide lower in my seat, hoping to avoid him at all costs. When I went down the list of names of the people in the class and saw his, I instantly dropped it, but after picking it back up, I told myself he’d probably never show up anyway. After all, he’s also a senior, he’s a jock, and he shouldn’t need to sit in for this.
Heavy footsteps ring out beside me, and even though I’m trying to do everything in my power not to look up, I find that I can’t ignore him. I glance up and meet his eyes, instantly regretting it.
“You’re in my seat.”
“There are no assigned seats.” I blink, shooting him the dirtiest look I can muster. He seems to find this amusing, his eyes gleaming as he stares at me.
“All right.” He shrugs a shoulder and sits in the chair beside me. A chair that’s ridiculously close to mine. I set the tip of my sneaker on the side of it and he meets my gaze again. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to push you away.”
“Wouldn’t you say you succeeded in pushing me away?” He raises an eyebrow, eyes boring into mine. Heat pricks my skin.
“I mean . . . you don’t have to sit so close to me.”
“You’re in my seat. This is the next best thing.”
“There’s only been one class so far. How is this your seat?”
“Because I always sit in the back left of the class. You’d know that if you paid attention to your surroundings more often.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown. “I’ve never had a class with you.”
“Never?”
“Not since freshman year.” I swallow.
“And you dropped it, didn’t you?” He tilts his head slightly, examining my expression.
“I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” I lower my foot, straighten in my chair, and look at the front of the room.
“Why are you in this class, anyway?”
“Because I have no choice. Why are you here?”
“Same reason. Your mom told me this is the easiest A, so here I am.”
“Hm.” I scowl. My mother is a traitor.
“You still studying, what was it, nursing?”
“Public health.”
“Public health?” His brows raise. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I can do different things, but I’m looking into becoming a PA.”
“PA?” Jagger nods slowly. “I would’ve bet money on your becoming a doctor.”
“Because of my dad?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He chuckles, stretching his legs. I inhale sharply, moving mine quickly so his don’t touch mine. “I’m still political science. Thinking about law school.”
“Law school?” I raise my eyebrows. “Don’t you have like every scout in the country looking at you?”
“Yeah.” His lips flatten and I can tell I hit a sore subject, though I can’t imagine why. He’s destined to play in the NFL. At least, that’s what I’ve always assumed.
“Hm,” is the only comment I make.
“You still playing volleyball?”
“Nope.” I cross my arms. Now it’s my turn to avoid the subject.
“Hm,” he says back and doesn’t comment further, just that grunt of acknowledgement, and I focus on class, rather than him and his long legs, giant frame, and obnoxiously sexy voice.
* * *
I pick up my pace as I near the house and furthermore when I see people walking on the sidewalk. I knew this house was coveted, but I didn’t realize by how many until I got the alert that I was next in line for it on a list of 80. It’s a cute little cottage, the kind people dream of settling down in, with an evergreen exterior and white picket fence surrounding it. Settling down is a far cry from what happens here though, and everyone knows it. In the past, it’s been housed by fraternities and sororities alike. Now that Greek life has its own row of houses a block away from here, it’s housed by upperclassmen and women. People like me, who are tired of small beds and noisy hallways and want to live off campus. People like me, with connections to owners of houses like this one. Or rather, my parents are the ones with the connections and I’m the one who reaps the benefits of that. I take the steps two at a time, ignoring everyone in my wake and surroundings.
If I know one thing is not to make eye contact with people you’re passing—in line, in life. It’s the reason I stay to myself mostly. It’s the reason I never joined a sorority, like my best friends did. I do reap the benefits of those connections as well though, and go to the important parties here and there. At least I did, before Lawrence told me it made him jealous and I stopped altogether. Jealous my ass. My throat burns as I think about my cheating ex-boyfriend Lawrence and my ex-friend Crystal. I force myself to shove the emotion away before I start crying. As it is, I’m overdue
for a good cry. I’ve been holding all of these emotions in, waiting for the right moment to let them loose, but I’ve been too busy to have a legitimate emotional breakdown.
I reach for the door just as someone else places their hand over mine. The touch makes me jolt and bounce back. I glance up quickly, meeting toffee eyes. His gaze burns into mine, his lips forming a hard line. I swallow, shaking my head because there’s no way, there’s no way, except it would be just my luck.
“What are—” My question is cut off by the door opening beside us. Neither of us look away from each other, unable to break this godforsaken spell that seems to always take hold when we’re near each other.
“Miss Canó? Did I say that correctly?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I blink away first, looking at the woman holding the door open.
“Mr. Cruz?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My pulse quickens. That voice, Jesus Christ, so deep and rich and punchable.
“Come in, please.” She steps aside and I walk inside first. “I’m Lauren. My siblings and I own this house, but I’m the closest, so I’ll be the one dropping in to check on it occasionally. We didn’t used to do this, but after the incident, well, let’s just say not checking in would be catastrophic.”
“What incident?” I ask, frowning as we walk past the small living room with the fireplace and toward the kitchen.
Lauren’s version of a tour, apparently, is walking swiftly past the rooms. We stop at the threshold of the kitchen. It’s small, but has definitely been remodeled, with stainless-steel appliances.
“The fire,” Jagger says, again, making my pulse quicken and heart drop into my stomach.
“I didn’t hear about a fire.”
“You must have been busy, probably with your asshole boyfriend.” He says the words so casually, Lauren laughs. They continue walking and I stand there, stunned for a second, before picking up my pace and following behind them. The mere mention of my asshole boyfriend makes my insides burn, but the last thing I want is to tell Jagger he was right about Lawrence.
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