Mad Boys (Blue Ivy Prep, #2)(40)

I still did not know what he wanted. Well, besides mind-blowing kisses that should not be fucking hot when delivered by douchebags.

They were all douchebags. Well, maybe Jonas wasn’t so much anymore. But they were douchebags. Lachlan was such an ass. Such. An. Ass.

His ninja kisses were also addictive as hell. As I came around the bend toward the pond, I slowed my pace. A figure waited by the pond. He had a blanket spread out on the ground, and a… was that an actual picnic basket?

The sun was in my eyes so I could only make out his outline. Slowing to a walk, I shaded my eyes and then blinked.

RJ?

“Hey, Blue,” he said as he faced me, his grin open and almost as bright as the sun. “Long time no see.”

Before I could ask what he was doing there, a figure streaked past me and slammed into him, landing both of them in the pond.

“You son of a bitch,” Lachlan said as they emerged from the water, before he shoved him back under.





Seventeen





JONAS


Three things happened the day KC returned to running. One, I didn’t understand. The second, I wasn’t sure how to process. And the third? Oh, the third pissed me off.

The third thing? I was pretty sure that wasn’t her fault. No, if I had to blame anyone, it would be my fucking brother. It started when she asked me a strange question about a riddle. I’d never been a fan of mind games. Nor puzzles. But suddenly, I wished I was.

The second thing that happened, she grinned at me… really grinned at me. The power of that smile knocked all the breath out of my lungs. It had the power of every ballad I’d ever tried to compose. Memorizing that look, the notes it burst into life, occupied me for more than an hour.

The third thing, however? The third thing was a soaking wet Lachlan stalking her to my door and trying to get inside. She didn’t spare him a second look as she slammed the door of her bedroom. He had a bloody nose and a busted lip. His black eye had almost healed.

I renewed the subscription. Dumbass didn’t even see me coming. When I tossed him out on his ass, Payton appeared. Gross.

Let her kiss it better. Whatever.

As long as he stayed away from KC.

I split three of the knuckles on my right hand delivering that punch. When KC emerged from her room, she glanced around with a worried frown. “He’s gone.”

The relief in her exhale wasn’t manufactured. She glanced at the door then at me. I’d been working on music, but I didn’t hide the sheets. Her eyes narrowed on my hand.

And it wasn’t as hard as his skull.

“I’m going to make coffee,” she said. “Then I have some work to do…want some?”

“Work?” I frowned. “Or coffee?”

The corners of her mouth curved upward again. It wasn’t quite the grin of earlier, but it was definitely fun to see. “I’ll save the work for joint assignments if we end up with any.”

All of a sudden, I wished we had.

“Coffee, though, is good anytime,” she said as she walked into the kitchenette. The coffee maker was like something from a professional coffee shop or stand. She worked it like a pro. There was something soothing about the grinding noise, even if it was loud. Even more was the hum and slurp of the milk. “Jonas?”

The abrupt end of the foaming and her question dragged me back to the present. “Oh. Yeah,” I said. “Coffee.” Right, she might need more words. “Coffee would be good.”

“Coming right up.” She didn’t ask me what I wanted specifically, but I didn’t drink a lot of fancy coffee. So maybe it was easy to figure out what I drank. Or maybe we just drank the same thing. Curiosity niggled at me while she fixed it.

When she crossed to where I was sitting and handed me the tumbler. I stared at the side. It had the Torched logo on it. I hadn’t realized that they had that before. Then, the one she’d made me the other time had been in a disposable cup.

“We can use these in the suite because we’re not going anywhere,” she explained, wrapping her hands around the tumbler like she was cold. Was she cold? Her toenails were a pale shade of blue, paler than her hair or her eyes. Did she pick it out on purpose like that? “The disposable cups are easier.”

For her nails? Wait, no for the coffee. “Makes sense.” I took a cautious sniff of the coffee before a drink. It smelled almost sweeter than last time. It tasted sweeter. Another sip and I frowned.

The corners of her mouth curved again. “It’s the raw sugar, I added it to the top. Just…needed a pick me up.”

“Oh.” I took another swallow. Definitely sweeter, but it also seemed to make the coffee richer.

“Right, I’m gonna let you work, and I’m going to my room—”

“You can work out here,” I offered. “It won’t bother me.”

“I was gonna listen to some videos while I did research…” But she hesitated. “Mind if I do headphones?”

“No.”

Ten minutes later, she was curled up in a corner of the sofa with her laptop, a stack of books on the table, her headphones on and her foot was the only thing about her that moved, keeping time with some beat she could hear.

It was…nice.

We spent most of the weekend the same way. Sharing the sitting room and working, but not really talking. Studio time waited, but I was comfortable here. I grabbed food for her one day. She made coffee a couple of times. We ordered a pizza on Sunday. She paid, and I went down to get it.