Page 36 of Freaks Of Nature

Christopher’s voice answers from inside. “Let him in.”

The same guy unlatches the door and opens it wide, jerking his head in a motion for me to enter.

“Thanks fellas,” I chirp on a light note as I brush past.

Christopher, Mr. DeMarco’s personal assistant, sits at the massive mahogany desk, flipping through paperwork. His slim frame is dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, reminding me of a department store mannequin. He’s a few years younger than me, and from what I’ve heard, eager to handle all of the boss’s needs.

I watch his manicured hands make annotations next to the printed text in front of him before flipping another page.

He’s efficient, alright.

My eyes shift to the large padded envelope on the desk. A smaller, fat one with my name on it lies on top.

“214 Arlington Drive.” He barely looks up as he pushes the stack toward me.

The address is one of the more frequent ones, which makes the drop-off easy. They know my brother and me.

Pocketing my payment, I swipe the package off the desk. I don’t know what it contains; it’s not my business. All I know is where to take it, and I don’t ask questions.

I swerve the Hayabusa through the late rush hour traffic and make the drop all the way across town before checking the time.

It’s 8:30.

I know Emily is at the diner by now. I need to talk to her and do some damage control. We exchanged numbers that morning after Mace and I pulled the switch, but this is something I need to do in person.

I park my bike in the alley. Helmet in hand, I swing the backpack over my shoulder and walk around to the entrance of the diner.

A chime above me goes off as I push through, causing several glances to drift my way. It’s busy.

I scan the dining room for one familiar face and freeze when I see her. She’s gorgeous. Her cheeks have a rosy flush that sings of excitement and exertion in equal measure. A look I’ve seen on her before.

A heatwave hits me. Blood rushes to my groin at the vision, and I feel my dick throb behind my fly.

I watch her address an elderly woman at the table she’s clearing. Her mouth curls into a smile.

Those full lips…

As if suddenly sensing my stare, her view lifts and slides my way. Her expression changes.

Oh no.

The moment her sight locks on to me over the crowd, she flinches back a step, probably thinking I’m Mason.

The plates balanced on her forearms slide off, and a shatter of dishes explodes in my ears.

Fuck.

I close my eyes and groan before rushing to her side to help her pick up the shards. It’s my fault she dropped them, after all. Well, technically my twin’s fault.

She’s kneeling in front of the mess, and I squat down, dropping my helmet to free my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter low when she doesn’t look up at me. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just wanted to apologize for Mason’s behavior.”

I don’t know the specific details, but judging by her reaction and her trembling hands lifting the ceramic pieces, I figure they’re pretty bad.

Her lashes flick up, her eyes finding mine at last. “Ash!” my name leaves her lips like a revelation.

I only manage half a nod of affirmation before a boy comes up behind me with a broom and a small tub, practically shooing me away.