Page 3 of The Brave and the Reckless (Bravetown #1)

CAREERS – STAFF HOUSING

The shortest commute possible: Bravetown is excited to offer its staff members modern housing on-premises. Employees can benefit from low rent prices on private studio apartments.

Just joining the workforce? Young people and junior employees may even qualify for a room in our free house-share program.

Rules and regulations apply.

N OAH

The rules were right there. Black on white.

Laminated. Taped to both the backsplash of the shared kitchen and the refrigerator.

You’d think that would be impossible to ignore, but you’d be wrong.

Clearly, labeling my bread and peanut butter and putting them on the cupboard shelf with my name on it wasn’t enough.

And while I didn’t mind sharing, the peanut butter sandwich thief had the nerve to leave the counter covered in crumbs and abandon their plate with the bread crust still on it.

What self-respecting adult cut the crust off their bread ?

Lucas sauntered into the kitchen in one of his sheriff costumes, white hat still on.

He got a kick out of riding through town like that.

Any tourists that made their way out here had come for the theme park.

Even if they stayed at the one motel we had or Berta’s B&B, they’d flock to Bravetown eventually.

Which made Lucas, also known as Sheriff Kit Holliday, a local celebrity.

Technically, we weren’t supposed to be in costume outside the park, but Lucas put on the white knight act to get girls, and Renee turned a blind eye because it helped draw undecided people into the park and steer excited fans there earlier.

I didn’t care so much about the costume as I did about the crumbs on his vest.

Were those peanut butter sandwich crumbs?

“Don’t glare at me like that. I stocked up this morning.” Lucas lifted his hands in mock surrender before he pulled a bag of Doritos from his designated shelf.

Fair enough. Lucas had been working here almost as long as I had. He wasn’t exactly a stickler for rules, but anyone who’d spent more than one summer at the park understood the bare minimum of keeping the peace in the staff housing complex.

“Fucking seasonals,” I muttered and screwed the lid back on to my peanut butter jar.

“Absolutely planning on it,” Lucas replied with a grin. “I mean, did you see that redhead waitress she hired for the saloon?” When I rolled my eyes at him, the idiot winked at me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist over some bread, Noah.” He chuckled and strolled out the door.

“It’s not about the bread. It’s about the principle.” And now I was talking to myself while wiping off counters. Great .

I was getting too old for this place. Most people who worked here all year came from town, had their own homes and families to get back to at the end of the day. I hadn’t meant to make this my permanent residence, but I’d moved in at twenty-four, and five years later, I was still here.

Two more years. I’d done the math. Two more years and I could move back home.

I slammed the cupboard shut harder than needed, earning myself a puzzled look from Austin, who sat at the huge dinner table with his chunky headphones on and his phone propped up in front of him.

I booked it upstairs before I’d start ranting about shared living etiquette to him. Even considering how to word it made me feel too petty for a Tuesday night. I was going to hit the shower and just eat at the staff gathering later.

We were two weeks away from summer season officially starting.

Which equaled opening earlier and closing later, live shows, busloads of tourists rolling in daily, and right now a shit-ton of work to get the park prepped.

I’d spent the entire day in the stables, and if I showed up to the saloon like this, the whole place would smell like horse shit by the time Renee had finished her big welcome speech– which was the same each year, but the new seasonals didn’t know that.

Staff House B was three floors, the upper two allocated to bedrooms and bathrooms. Each floor held six bedrooms, two bathrooms. Sharing the bathroom with two other people usually wasn’t a big deal. I twisted the handle, found it locked, and would have just come back in five.

This time, however, an unfamiliar chipper voice inside yelled, “One second! ”

“It’s fine,” I replied. My mood had soured, but I wasn’t so much of a dick that I’d rush some new employee off the toilet.

“Don’t worry,” the door swung open and a cloud of steam evaporated into the hallway– someone had probably used up all the hot water– “the bathroom’s all yours.”

I glanced down at the short woman in front of me.

Soft. Everything about her seemed soft, and it wasn’t just the fluffy towel wrapped around her chest, or the billows of steam behind her.

Her big brown eyes took up so much of her heart-shaped face, she almost looked like a doll.

Dark waves grazed at her delicately sloped shoulders, and her damp skin glistened like copper.

Even her brows were smoothly curved black arches. Not a jagged line on her.

And despite all of that, my eyes latched on to the fluffy fabric that covered her from chest to knee. “That’s not your towel.”

“Huh?” She glanced down, water dripping from her wet hair, then grinned back up at me, a deep dimple in her right cheek. She tapped her finger against my embroidered initials on her midriff. “Yes, it is. Look: N.Y. New York. That’s where I’m from.”

“That might be, but it’s still not your towel.”

“Who are you? The towel police?”

“No, I’m N.Y. Noah Young.”

“Oh, you’re Noah. ” She said it as if the name meant something to her.

“Yes,” I huffed, not giving a fuck if it did, because I was already so over people taking my shit.

She slapped a hand against her gleaming collar bone. “Esra. ”

Right. I’d forgotten she was meant to come today.

Sanny hadn’t shut up about it for two weeks straight.

Once you got over the fact that this girl was wet and almost naked and in the middle of stealing my towel, she actually looked a little like her brother.

Beyond the dark hair and light brown skin, they shared the same downward slant to their eyes. “Okay.”

“Sinan’s sister,” she clarified.

“Yes, I understand. That’s still my towel.”

“I’ll bring it back later.”

Somehow, I doubted that. “Did you take my peanut butter?”

“Towel and toast police?”

“Is that a confession?”

“You’re not much fun, huh?”

“Not when I’m being stolen from.”

“Well, I can’t give back the sandwich, but god . Here.” She untucked the top of the towel. I realized what was happening just in time to drag my gaze to the ceiling before the fabric rustled distinctively. “Take it.”

“What on earth are you doing?” I gritted the words out through clenched teeth.

This was beyond ridiculous. Knowing who she was, I could have excused her taking my food.

She’d come in from out of town and she’d been hungry, and Sinan had clearly talked about me enough for her to recognize my name in the kitchen.

She’d felt safe enough to take that food.

That made sense. This towel bit was beyond irrational.

“What do you think I’m doing? Giving your towel back. Take it already.”

“Jesus. Put it back on before someone sees you. This isn’t that kind of community housing. ”

“Take your damn towel, N.Y., Noah Young.” When I didn’t reach out to take it from her, she groaned. “Fine. Be difficult.”

The towel rustled again but this time it dropped to the floor, the edge of it hitting my boots.

“I’ll tell Sanny that you got me naked on my first day here,” she chirped from a few steps away.

“I did no such—” Her words caught me off-guard enough for my gaze to swing down, just to find her disappearing into one of the bedrooms, catching the last perfect curve of her ass before the door slammed shut.

My first thought was that her brother might just kill me for even a split second of staring at her ass.

He had never talked much about Esra beyond childhood stories, but I’d always gotten the sense that the silence was more protective than secretive.

She had her own life, and it wasn’t his to broadcast to strangers.

My second thought was that this girl radiated trouble. And she’d just moved into the room next to mine.