Page 47 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

FOX

I work the register at Alana’s bookstore and hear the jingle of the bell above the door. I paste on my polite ‘ hello, old person, welcome to our establishment ’ smile, and consider removing the free cookie platter from above the pastry fridge—not, like, all the cookies.

Just most of them, to minimize loitering time.

But glancing across, I’m met with a face far friendlier than any of the others I was expecting.

Raya bounces through the door, sans-apron, and beams when our eyes meet. She wears a dozen neon butterfly clips in her hair, the kind the eighties and nineties babies rocked for a solid decade and a half, and shiny black boots with three-inch soles and silver buckles along the side.

She’s a statement wherever she goes. Fashionable and unapologetically her, even if those who surround her don’t share the same ideas.

“Well, hey there.” I close the register and settle in for a visit, resting my hip against the counter and folding my arms. “I was wondering if you’d ever come visit me.”

“I see you every second morning!”

“Yeah, but at the bakery.” I slow my words, teasing the girl who could probably out-brain me any day of the week. “I wasn’t even sure that you had hips before, since they’re always hidden behind an apron.”

Blushing, she brushes her hands over the front of her shirt and down to her belt. “Yeah. I’m surprised my parents even let me leave the house, to be honest. Showing an inch of my belly is totally uncool. ”

“You look great. Classy and badassy.”

“Chris came in and ordered that cake.”

“Oh. I know.” I snicker. “He told me so. In fact, he gave me the receipt to prove it. I think he was scared I’d hurt him if he didn’t. Are you coming to the party?”

“For sure.” She sets her hands on the counter, dozens of metal bangles jingling together. “I think the First Family is coming at this point. You’ve put the whole town on notice: turn up or die .”

“Fear can be a great motivational tool sometimes. Never underestimate the power of a woman with a little notebook and a borrowed pen.” From smiles to a frown, my mood sours. “I still can’t find mine. It’s sending me insane.”

“Can’t find your what? Your pen?”

“I swear it was in my bag on the plane. I don’t remember seeing it since then.”

“Er… okay. Was it a special pen? A gift or something?”

“No. It was just a regular pen.” I pick up the pen I’ve been using all day. “Exactly like this one. They come in twenty-packs. Five bucks a pack.”

“So just grab another from the pack,” she snickers. “It’s just a pen.”

I slam my hand back to the counter and faux-snarl. “Listen, girly. Don’t come to my place of work and judge me for my unhealthy obsession with a truly unremarkable pen. You don’t see me standing in line at the bakery calling you out on things.”

“You mean like how you asked—as in, shouted—yesterday morning, in front of a dozen other customers, if I’d pulled the Fashion Institute application forms off the school website yet?”

“What?” I fold one arm across my belly and draw the opposite hand up to my lip.

“I was just helping a girlfriend out, is all. That’s a good school, so you gotta be prepared.

Get ahead of the pack. The last thing you wanna do is become complacent and stay in a small town you don’t like, working a job you don’t want, simply because it’s easy.

Get out.” I gesture toward the door. “See the world.”

“See New York,” she snorts. “I won’t become complacent, I promise. Nothing will keep me here.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.” My stomach grumbles, the four o’clock sugar cravings hitting right on schedule, so I drop my hands and stride to the pastry fridge.

Snagging the plate of cookies, I bring them back and place them on the counter between us.

“What’s the goss, anyway? What’s happening over at Plainview High? ”

She selects a cookie and brings dancing eyes up to mine. “You sound like a regular local already.”

“Yeah, but the locals gossip about dumb things.”

“As opposed to… high school drama?”

“Exactly! Way more exciting. So who is dating who? Who’s pregnant? Prom’s coming up, right? Got a date yet?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not my prom. And none of the senior guys are likely to ask me. My friend Ericka has a new boyfriend, though.” Eyes alight, she leans closer to tell a secret. “He goes to school in the next town over, since anyone with class wouldn’t dare date a Plainview boy.”

“Obviously.” I flutter my lashes and nibble on the edge of my cookie. “Is he nice to her? Is he a decent person?”

“Yeah, I really think so. A lot of the girls my age are thirsting for the bad boy thing right now. You know, the guys who skip school and smoke and talk back to the teachers to feel tough?”

“I was never into those types. Rebellion for the sake of rebellion seems like a waste of effort.”

“Exactly! Fight for what you believe in and all that, but being a douchebag just to sound cool is dumb. This guy, though, Everett? He seems alright. He makes my friend happy.”

“And what about you?” The shop doorbell rings again, drawing my lazy attention. That is, until my eyes lock on to the devastatingly handsome Christian Watkins. Then my laziness dissipates, and in its place is an odd fluttering in my belly and my hand coming up and brushing my hair back.

Dammit. I want to feel pretty when he walks into a room.

“What about me? Am I dating someone?” Raya doesn’t notice our newcomer.

Or maybe she just doesn’t care. “Everett has a friend, Cal, and he’s pretty nice.

He comes to Plainview whenever Everett does, and since Everett’s busy making starry eyes at Ericka, that usually leaves time for me and Cal to hang out. He’s interested, I guess.”

Chris meanders toward the pastry fridge, his thick legs wrapped in jeans I swear were made just for him, his hands resting on his hips, and his broad chest showcased in a black shirt, the same shape and fit as basically every other shirt he owns.

He looks freshly showered with damp hair and a glinting smile, but when Raya selects another cookie, I drag my attention away from him and back to her.

“I’m not sure I wanna get into something with him, though, since he doesn’t live in Plainview, and maybe Ericka and Everett won’t work out.”

“You don’t think you can be with him, even if they’re not? ”

She shrugs. “Just not sure I want to invest in something I’m only meh about, since I’ll be heading to New York in a year and a bit, anyway. If we don’t work out, what was the point, ya know? And if we do, it’ll make leaving even harder.”

“I mean…” Damn. She poses an excellent question, so I take a bite of my cookie and ponder.

“The point was the experience, I suppose. Even if you don’t work out.

Being treated well by a nice guy is something you should know, even if it’s only short-term.

If you break up, you’ve got that under your belt, something to dissect and learn from as you grow older.

Once you hit New York, your world will get a hell of a lot bigger, which means the long list of viable male options will explode.

Dating this dude could be a safer, more controlled situation where you’re still at home, still surrounded by what you know, and since he’s that other guy’s friend, it kinda provides credibility.

Dating in New York won’t come with a lot of the safety nets you currently have in place. ”

“Well…” She stares over the top of her cookie, her lovely blue eyes glittering with amusement. “Maybe when I get there, I can look you up. We can hang out sometimes, and if I meet some dude, I can run him by you. You can be my safety net.”

“Oh, great!” I choke out a nervous laugh. “No pressure at all! That’s a helluva responsibility to lob on a woman who hasn’t even got her own life under control.”

“Ladies.” Unable to help himself, Chris sidles up on Raya’s left and smirks when her eyes grow wide and her heart skitters, visible in her throat. Okay, so maybe she does care that he’s here. Arrogant, he slides his eyes across and stops on me. “Ms. Tatum.”

I pick up the cookie plate and offer. “Christian. How’s it going?”

“It’s going.” He peruses his options—though every single cookie is the same—then pinching one between his fingers, he winks for the staring girl. “You make these, Raya?”

“Uh… um…” She swallows, nodding a little too doggy-on-the-dashboard style. “I-I did. I made them.”

He takes a bite and chews long enough to test each flavor on his tongue. It’s slow and drawn out, unintentionally torturous for the girl who has a crush on a full-grown man.

My full-grown man, dammit.

“Delicious.” He grins. “You did good.”

She drops her gaze, hiding her blazing cheeks, and folds her fingers together. Good lord, the poor girl is a mess. “Thank you.”

“I was actually coming to see you, Fox.” He’s oblivious to his teenage admirer.

Blind to her fiery blush and shallow breathing.

Instead, he searches my face with a long, caressing sweep of his eyes.

“Alana wanted us to discuss bookstore plans this afternoon.” Lie, lie, lie!

“She and Tommy and the kids are going out, but she wanted to make sure I didn’t forget about this. ”

“Yeah?” I toss the last of my cookie onto my tongue. “What kind of stuff, specifically ?”

From adoring to irritated, he grunts. “Just… stuff . You’re busy right now, but I’ll come back and?—”

“Oh, nah. I’m done.” Like her three-inch soles turn to springs, Raya bounces away from the counter. “I have homework anyway. But I’ll see you in the morning, okay, Fox? At the bakery.”

“Sure.” I finger-wave and watch her go. Then, I bring my attention back to Chris. “You’re terrible at on-the-spot lying.”

“Yeah, that makes me the bad guy,” he growls low on his breath. “How horrible of me not to be a fluent bullshit artist.” He leans closer, snarling, “Alana and Tommy actually do have plans. So I wanna come over and?—”

“ Bang ? Really? I have it on good authority Clifford Troopman intends to ask me out soon.” I glance down and study my nails. “Could you not even try to romance me? Is chivalry dead?”

“Come over and pick you up,” he continues, seething. “I was going to ask you over for dinner.”

“Oh?” I bring my eyes up again. “Dinner?”

“A date. At my house. I planned to cook for you, since we haven’t done that yet. But if you’d prefer to keep your schedule open for Cliff, then I suppose I’ll just back the fuck up and not bother.”

“You wanted to cook for me?” Good Lord. Why does my heart cartwheel? “Really?”

“Not if you have plans with Troopman. I’d hate to get in the way of true love and all that shit.”

I roll my eyes. “You get so freakin’ cranky. Geez. You were at that dinner with Alana. The Cliff joke is funny.”

His eyes flicker with something akin to desperation. Or perhaps, desire. For violence, that is. “It’s not funny to me. Can I pick you up? Leave your car here and not in my driveway. I’ll bring you back later, and no one will know we even hung out.”

“Dinner hidden away at your house. Where no one will see us.” Don’t even think about being weird about it, doofus! This is the deal we made. “That makes sense. It would be impossible for me to park in your driveway and not expect Alana to notice.”

“And the last thing we want is for Alana to notice.” He softens his expression, curling his lips into a gentle smile. “You close the shop at five. Can I pick you up at six? It feels like we’ve hardly hung out this week.”

“We haven’t.” I snag the pen—my inferior imposter pen—and rest the capped end between my teeth. “You’ve been at the gym a lot. And I’ve been with Alana and the kids. Party planning is taking up a lot of time.”

“But I’ve been in your bed most nights.” He licks his lips and studies my eyes. “I’ve made sure to stop by almost every single day.”

“Drive by pussy.” I lower the pen and try not to feel quite so… cheap . “Your hard work is appreciated, and your dedication is admirable.”

He smirks. “Six o’clock? I’ve got Cliff running my classes tonight, so I’m free from now until tomorrow morning.”

I narrow my eyes. “Tell me you didn’t roster that poor man on just to make him unavailable for our date.”

“Shouldn’t matter to you.” He takes a step back, his voice low and his fingers tightly wrapped around a cookie.

“You have no reason to be thinking about him or the things he does at night, Ms. Tatum. Your schedule is full, and I seem to recall you mentioning— demanding , even—that for as long as you’re in town, my focus remains exclusively yours.

” He takes a bite and grins. “Tit for tat, Fox. Tit for tat. Wear your hair up.”

I reach back and touch my hair, the long locks hanging loose and the ends dangling over my shoulder. “That’s an interesting request.”

“Catch you when I catch you.” He meanders past the sofa square of old women trying desperately to listen to a conversation they weren’t invited into.

But when he tips his chin in farewell, they scramble.

A henhouse filled with nine chickens and one hungry fox.

Whipping unread books open and sipping empty cups of tea, they fix their hair and pretend they’re not nosy old bitches begging for a scrap of gossip.

Imagine being so bored and brainless.

Kill me if I ever become like them.