A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(16)

Sadly, alone with her musings was a dangerous place to be. Especially when she noticed that even though his coffee-colored hair had darkened, the stubble he’d worn since high school, the stubble that made him look charmingly disheveled, had grown a deeper, richer auburn. And though she couldn’t see his eyes, she’d dreamed about them almost daily. The rich, tawny color like whiskey in the sun. The long, dark lashes she would have given her left kidney for. The scythe-shaped brows that always lent him a look of mischief.

She walked closer to the plate-glass windows for a better view. He wasn’t a model, but he should have been. The world would have been all the richer for it.

Sun forced herself to snap out of it. She was back and Levi had never left, and the two were bound to see each other now and again. The only question was, how would she survive the stretches in between?

After another glance at the station, one that had Sun retreating back from the window, Levi walked toward the store to pay, and Sun realized just how lucky his jeans were to be able to hug such a perfect ass.

He disappeared inside the building and left her with no other choice but to finally take note of his truck. It had a custom wrap with his company’s logo on it, Dark River Shine, and pride swelled inside her.

He’d actually managed to take his family’s illegal business—and recipe—and turn it into an insanely successful career as a distiller. Now one of the country’s most prestigious makers of corn whiskey, a.k.a. moonshine, his products had been featured in newspapers and magazines all over the world, and he’d won numerous awards for the 100-proof spirits.

Awards. Just like Puff Daddy. Who knew such subcultures existed?

He stepped out of the Quick-Mart and headed back toward the pumps. Sadly, Sun missed most of his reemergence, because a Mercedes that had been barreling down Main, slipping and sliding on the icy road, jumped the curb and crashed head-on through the plate glass where Sunshine had been standing.

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would have seen it in plenty of time and jumped out of the way. Instead, a barrage of splintered glass sliced across her face and hands. And a split second before the car sideswiped her, she realized her deputies might have been right.

Maybe there really was something to the muffin thing, after all.


Auri stood in the hall, staring at a locker that had the word narc written on it in red spray paint. She looked from the principal to the security guard and back again.

“I didn’t do that,” she said, wondering why in the world they would think she did.

“We know,” the principal said. A man she thought handsome until about five minutes ago, Mr. Jacobs had smooth dark skin and kind eyes, and she’d noticed earlier everyone still called him Coach, a testament to his former position, she supposed.

And his head sat about two feet taller than Auri’s. The security guard’s a few inches taller than that. There was nothing quite as special as being stared down by two men of authority. And here Auri thought she couldn’t feel any more vulnerable than she had earlier.

Mr. Jacobs reached past her and opened the locker with a master key. Inside sat one solitary object: the wooden carving Lynelle had taken off his desk. And Auri suddenly understood.

She took a hit off her inhaler, then asked, “I take it this is my locker?” She had yet to visit it, but it was nice of everyone to make her feel so welcome.

They both nodded.

“Don’t tell me,” the security guard said. “You have no idea how this got there.”

She took a closer look. It was a lion, the Del Sol High mascot. Appropriate since lions were intertwined with the sun through the zodiac sign of Leo, which was also the name the DSHS mascot.

When she shook her head, the security guard lost it. He huffed out a breath and did an about-face, raking a hand through his hair before turning back to her.

“Do you have any idea how many decades Leo has been passed down from principal to principal? He is a symbol of pride for this school, Miss Vicram. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

While Auri backed away slowly, wondering about the guard’s mental stability—clearly he took his job way too seriously—she noticed the principal fighting a grin behind a closed fist.

“Okay, Gary,” he said, patting the guard on his shoulder, “how about we let her talk?”

Disgusted, the guard turned away from her and jammed his fists onto his hips, the gesture both dramatic and unnecessary. Auri’s opinion of him couldn’t plummet any lower.

The principal scrubbed his face with his hands, again fighting a grin, then settled an understanding stare on her.

“Do you know who put this in your locker?”

She shook her head.

He raised a warning brow. “I’m willing to bet you do.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Even if I were to call your mother? Still nothing?”

Auri stopped breathing and decided to give her shoes a good once-over when she felt a familiar sting in the backs of her eyes. “It’s my mom’s first day on the job. She doesn’t need me messing up her entire day. Again.”

“I’m well aware. I used to teach that little firecracker you call Mom. And I think you’re right. How about we let this slide?” He leaned closer, his expression soft with understanding. “But if you ever want to talk about all of this”—he gestured toward the locker—“you know where my office is. Especially since I’m fairly certain you saw who took this off my desk.”