I grab the wheel and jerk it toward the right so we don’t hit the black sedan blaring its horn. My sunglasses go flying toward the dash, and I catch sight of Hunter Havalin on the sidewalk beside his truck.
And standing next to him, because I’m cursed, is Lincoln Riscoff.
4
Whitney
The past
Washingwindows was my least favorite of all the cleaning tasks on my to-do list. I would rather clean toilets from dawn till dusk if it meant I never had to wash another window. My arms ached from making sure the floor-to-ceiling panes of the boutique were spotless. Not to mention the other parts of me that ached from last night.
Lord Almighty. What the hell was I thinking going home with some stranger from a bar?
I should have known better. I shouldn’t have let my anger about Ricky’s no-good, cheating ass spur me on to do something stupid. Even if that led to the best night of my life.
That wasn’t the point. The point was that I’d wasted four years of my life because some dreamer with a guitar sold me a line of bullshit I should have been able to smell from a thousand miles away. But I was too naive and trusting.
“Wait for me, Whitney. I’ll move you down here as soon as I catch my big break.”
Yeah. Right.
Ricky’s voice was on every radio in the country while I was still in Gable, and apparently his dick was in every chick in LA.
My teenage dreams of being carried off into the sunset by my brother’s best friend were officially shattered.Ricky Rango, you can have your fame and your hos. What you will never have is Whitney Gable.
After we’d had it out and I told him I was done, I’d gone to my closet and yanked out the first outfit that wouldn’t make me feel like a cheated-on ex-girlfriend, and then went to the bar. I didn’t even know if I was looking for a rebound. I’d just needed to feelwanted.
It was just my luck that I did find a rebound and had the best sex of my life.And why did that rebound have to be Lincoln freaking Riscoff?
“You missed a spot, Whit,” Aunt Jackie called from behind me as she dusted the shelving units. “Top left corner. You know Rachelle will bitch if there’s a single mark on her glass, and I’m not going to let her cheap ass dock my fee again.”
As I reached up to get the spot Aunt Jackie pointed out, hazel eyes collided with mine through the window I was washing.
No. No. No.This wasn’t happening. My stomach flip-flopped as Aunt Jackie’s voice faded to static in my brain.
Only a single pane of glass with swirly silver letters separated me from Lincoln Riscoff. He stopped right in front of me, his eyebrows shooting up toward his dark brown hair.
Did he even recognize me? I looked nothing like I did last night. Now my long black hair was caught up in a red bandanna, and I was wearing cutoffs, old gym shoes, and a Bob Marley T-shirt.
When he lunged for the front door of the boutique, my stomach dropped. He yanked on the door handle, but it didn’t give.
Thank God it’s locked.
“Open it.” The glass wasn’t thick enough to muffle his words completely.
I jerked my chin over my shoulder, but Aunt Jackie was gone—probably to empty the trash outside in the dumpster because we were almost done.
Thank the Lord.It was Sunday, so that meant I was using up my collateral with the Almighty pretty damn fast because it had been a long time since I’d been to church.
I shook my head and pointed to my ears and said the first thing I could think of. “No hablo Español.”
His dark brows swooped together in a deepV, and I realized what just came out of my mouth.What the hell is wrong with you, Whitney?
His lips quirked as a smile spread over his face. “Open the door. I’m not done with you.”
“I can’t hear you.”
He moved his face closer to the glass and said two words, enunciating carefully. “Bull. Shit.”