Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(33)

As my client is leaving, the door opens, and I look up to see Lo’s little brother. He pops the tail of his skateboard up with his foot and tucks it under his arm as he breaks his neck to check out the girl’s ass as she walks out.

“Hang on,” Lo says, holding a finger up, then runs toward back of the shop.

“Hey, man,” I greet him. He looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion before placing me.

“Oh shit, you look different without all the…” He trails off, gesturing to his face. Right. It was Halloween when we met.

When Lo comes back, she’s dangling a set of keys in her hand. “Did you go to detention?” she asks, snatching the keys out of his reach when he goes for them.

“Yes,” he says with an eye roll. He reaches for the keys once more, only for her to pull back again.

“Pick me up at eleven. You go buy your equipment, then go straight home until I call.”

“This is stupid. I should’ve just taken the suspension. Do you even know how much this shit costs?”

Lo looks at me from the corner of her eye, and I busy myself with disassembling and sanitizing my machine, pretending not to eavesdrop.

“It’s fine,” she says, her voice barely loud enough to make out over the music coming from the speakers. “This is a good opportunity. Just get your mouth guard, shoes, and singlet now. We’ll worry about the fees and all the other shit later.” She reaches into her bra and pulls out a wad of cash before tucking it into his palm. “Here’s some extra from my shift today.”

Her brother shakes his head, his hand still outstretched as if he doesn’t want to take the money, but Lo lifts an eyebrow, and reluctantly he shoves it down into his jeans pocket. I’ve been in foster care and too many foster families to count, and I’ve never once seen a brother and sister this dynamic. Lo mothers him, which isn’t unheard of for the oldest sibling, but he seems to listen to her as if she’s in charge. There’s a closeness between them that sends a little jolt of jealousy through me. Not jealous of him—I’m not that crazy—but jealous of their relationship. Asher is my brother, but he’s not my blood, and he has his own life now.

There was a time when I thought I might have that with one of my foster families, but of course, I managed to fuck that up like everything else. And no one in this town has looked at me the same since. River’s Edge is split into three types of people for me: the people who blame me for what happened, the people who don’t, and the people who don’t know anything about it. For the record, I fall into the first group.

“Straight home,” she reiterates. He nods, and this time she gives him the keys when he reaches for them. He pulls her in for a hug, her head not even coming up to his chin. He leaves, and Lo heads toward my station to wipe down my chair.

“I can do it,” I tell her. “My client canceled, remember?” She’s the one who informed me of the cancellation.

“It’s okay. I got it.”

“You good?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask. She pauses mid-bend as she reaches for the wadded-up paper towels full of ink and the rinse cup, her big hazel eyes locking onto mine. I can see a hint of her black bra peeking from underneath her shirt from this angle, and memories of her perfect fucking tits as she arches into my touch pop into my mind, unbidden.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice too chipper for me to believe her. I can’t figure it out, but she seems off.

“Have you eaten? I think I’m going to order from next door.” I’m starving, and after overhearing Lo’s conversation with her brother, I wonder if money’s so much a problem that she’s not eating enough. She’s petite, her waist tiny, but that ass tells me she’s getting enough to eat.

“I didn’t get a chance to eat earlier,” she admits. “Blackbear got busy.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m not picky.” She shrugs.

“I’ll take a burger!” Matty shouts from his station on the other side of the room.

“And some wings,” Cordell chimes in.

“Anything else?” I say sarcastically, earning another smile from Lo. This time it’s genuine.

Jake drops off the food thirty minutes later, and I motion for Lo to follow me.

“What if someone comes in?” she asks, hooking a thumb toward the door.

“They’ll get it,” I assure her. I lead her to the bigger waiting area. It’s completely empty of clients. I walk over to the table and drop the food down, motioning for her to take a seat on the bench seat. I grab two beers and a water bottle. Gotta have options. When I turn back for the table, Lo is sitting there, chin propped on her fist, full lips in a pout, staring at the table.

Don’t ask her if she’s okay. Don’t ask her if she’s okay.

“You okay?” Smooth. She doesn’t answer, or even seem to hear me. “Lo.” Still nothing. “Logan,” I say, louder this time, and her head snaps up. “What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’, because I can tell something is bothering you. Unless you suddenly fell in love with pizza and that’s a wistful look on your face and not a troubled one.”

She gives a sad smile and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?” I hedge. “Is that guy still bothering you?”