Best Served Cold Read online

  Rae huffed. “I’m putting an ad out for a new best friend.”

  “Make sure they have the patience of a saint. They’re gonna need it.”

  Rae flipped her the bird, but Sophie just grinned.

  “What am I supposed to do while you two do the paper?” Rae asked, wincing as she adjusted and moved the ice on her foot. “Sit here and do nothing?”

  “Basically,” I said, walking around the other side of the counter to join Sophie. “There’s not much else you can do, is there?”

  She muttered something under her breath and looked out of the window.

  Sophie gave me the kind of look that said, ‘You’re not going to get on her good side like that,’ but I ignored it and got to peeling off the paper.

  I knew Rae.

  And I was getting under her skin just by being here.

  Although being the reason she probably had a broken toe wasn’t necessarily my best move.

  ***

  One hour and thirty minutes later, we were done.

  Just as well, because the pain was finally getting too much for Rae. She’d definitely broken it given the rainbow of blues and purples that were now forming on her second toe.

  “I hate you,” she said, leaning on the window as I locked up. She hadn’t even put her other shoe on because it hurt too much, but she didn’t want anyone to see me carrying her down the street, so she had decided to hop down to her car.

  I handed her back her keys. “Just let me carry you. Get on my back. You can’t hop all the way down the street to the parking lot.”

  “I can do whatever I like,” she muttered.

  “Except get your shoe back on.”

  She smacked me. “Fine. I’ll get on your back, but I don’t have to like it.”

  How did I know she was going to say that?

  I bent down for her to climb up. It took a couple of attempts, but I finally was able to grab hold of her thighs and pull her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and as her breath tickled across the back of my neck, I couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d been on my back.

  We’d been at the beach, and she wanted to go deeper into the water, but she was deathly afraid of jellyfish. I mean three-year-old-afraid-of-the-dark afraid. I’d never known anyone to be so scared of them before. She’d never gone higher than mid-calf in all the time I’d known her. It didn’t matter that I’d reminded her that jellyfish didn’t live on the sea floor, and if there was a jellyfish in the water, it was going to get her whether she was on my back or not.

  That day, as she’d giggled into my shoulder, I’d taken it as she just wanted to be on my back.

  Today, she wanted to be anywhere but.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I stopped next to her car. “Nobody saw us. Your reputation is intact.”

  She snorted. “Let me down.”

  Carefully, I lowered her to the ground where she leaned against the side of the car. It beeped when she hit the button on her key fob, and she let me help her get in the passenger side without causing too much of a fuss.

  I went to the other side and got in. I’d driven this car a hundred times, and it was still as impossibly neat and tidy as it’d always been. “Let me guess—your papers are still in an envelope in the glove box, there’s still a tub of gum in the center console, and a pair of spare flip-flops behind the passenger seat.”

  Her eyes lit up. “The flip-flops! I can walk in those!”

  I sighed and reached back. Sure enough, my fingers closed around something that felt like foam, and I pulled out a pair of barely-worn flip-flops.

  “Yesssss.” She threw them on the floor and gingerly put her bad foot into one of them. “Freedom.”

  “Freedom from what? Being carried around?”

  “Yes. I’m not a Disney princess. I don’t need to be hauled about because of an injury you caused. Besides, you’re no Flynn Rider.” Her eyes sparkled and, holy shit, her lips curved into a tiny smile.

  I raised my eyebrows, and she dropped it, then cleared her throat. I bit back my laughter at her slip—she was so fucking desperate to hate me it was funny.

  I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, turning toward her grandmother’s house. It was an easy ten-minute drive, but I didn’t want it to be in silence.

  “How’s your toe?” I asked.

  “Feels like I want to punch you.” She shot me a look.

  “Fair enough. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  “Apparently, visiting a doctor, icing my toe, and binging a TV show on Netflix.”

  “You won’t do that. I know you.”

  “You knew me.”

  All right. That stung. “You haven’t changed much.”

  She turned and looked at me. I felt her gaze as it traced my profile. “How do you know that?”

  “Papers in the glovebox, gum in the center, flip-flops under the seat.”

  “People can change their personalities without changing their habits. That’s usually how serial killers get away with it for so long.”

  “And you’re apparently still obsessed with serial killers.”

  She shrugged. “I picked up a few tricks. Carry on annoying me, and I’ll demonstrate them.”

  I rolled my eyes and took a right. “All right. Since you’re being awkward, what were your plans for tomorrow?”

  “Painting the base coat. If I tape my toes and use a long roller, I can probably get most of it done. I can rest my foot on the steps.”

  Fuck, she was ridiculous. “Why don’t you let me help you?”

  “Why would you help me?”

  “I’m the reason you broke your toe. Think of it as my apology. I can help you stay on track until you can walk again.”

  “What about your store?”

  “Marnie can do it. It’s not like she’s doing it for free. She’s already out for the summer before she goes to college. She can get some real-life experience in. It won’t kill her.” I shrugged a shoulder. “She knows what she’s doing. I can go in in the evenings and do whatever work I need to do. Toes heal pretty fast.”

  She side-eyed me. “It’s a broken bone, Chase.”

  “Potentially. You’ll be fine in a week. You’re stubborn.” I pulled into the drive behind her grandfather’s truck. “Let me help you inside.”

  “I can walk. I’m fine.” She grabbed her purse and pushed open the door, getting out and putting her weight on her good foot. The second she put weight on her right foot, she hissed out a curse and gripped the top of the door, immediately hovering on one foot.

  “How ya doin’ over there, Miss Independent?” I slammed my door shut and pushed the key back into the fob. “You’ve gone far.”

  She took a deep breath and looked at me. “Can you please help me?”

  “Did you just ask for my help and say please in the same sentence?”

  “You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”

  I handed her the keys and wrapped my arm around her waist. “Yeah, but you are, too. Here.” I guided her back so I could close the door. “Put your arm around me, and I’ll help you up.” I switched to her right side so she could lean on me.

  She hesitated, but she put her arm around my waist and used me to help her up the path to the door.

  Which swung open before we had a chance to open it.

  “What the hell did you do?” her grandma asked. “And since when did your ex-boyfriend bring you home? Since when did you talk to him?” Her eyes glittered with the questions as she focused on me.

  “Good to see you, too, Nora.” I grinned.

  “What’d she do?”

  “Broke my toe,” Rae ground out. “Can someone please let me inside so I can sit down?”

  Nora stepped to the side, eyes still sparkling as she moved deliberately out of Rae’s reach, so I had to bring her in.

  I shook my head. She might have been old, but she didn’t miss a trick, that woman.

  I guided Rae into the living room. The buz
zing of a drill or a saw came from somewhere to the left, and I knew that was her grandfather in his workshop—AKA the garage.

  Slowly, I steadied Rae as she sat down and lifted her leg onto the coffee table. Letting her go sent a chill across my skin, especially when her fingers drifted over my forearm, but I masked it.

  “What happened?” Nora said, shuffling to the other side of her and looking at her foot. “Hooey,” she continued, removing her flip-flop. “That’s broken all right. I’ve seen black eyes whiter than your toe.” Leaning right in, she examined it. “Not a bad one. I’ll get the medical kit and tape it. Did you ice it?”

  “Right after.” I nodded.

  Rae sighed and leaned right back. “I hate you so much. So, so, much.”

  “I know.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “You’ve got an even longer list of reasons now.”

  She glared at me. But still, there was something akin to amusement in her expression. She was definitely hiding how ridiculous this entire situation was. It was almost as if she was resigning herself to the idea that I would be the one to paint the store tomorrow.

  “Here we go.” Nora came back in with a first aid box, a bottle of water, a small bottle of Tylenol. “Take two of those and drink that. Chase, explain.”

  “It might be my fault,” I said slowly. “She was scraping the paper off the walls while Sophie steamed, and I didn’t exactly announce that I was there.”

  “What he’s trying to say,” Rae said, pills in the palm of her hand. “Was that he butted in mid-sentence, scared the ever-loving crap out of me, and made me drop the scraper.”

  “And it just happened to land on her foot.” I shrugged a little sheepishly. “That was an accident.”

  Nora sighed as she taped Rae’s second and third toes together. “You know she’s skittish. Like a squirrel.”

  Rae choked. “I’m not skittish! He scared me!”

  “You are kind of skittish,” I agreed.

  “You.” She pointed at me. “You’re so far up my shit list you are the shit list, so watch your mouth.”

  Nora swatted her on the thigh. “You watch your mouth, young lady.” She tore the tape off and gently patted the end down. “There you go. Keep it elevated. I’ll bring you some ice soon.”

  I watched as she left then looked down at Rae. She was pinching the bridge of her nose, clutching her water bottle so tight her knuckles were white.

  “So. Tomorrow? Is it a yes or a no?”

  She sighed, dropping her hand and looking at me with her big, brown eyes. “Fine. It’s your punishment and apology for doing this to me. Also, I don’t like painting walls.”

  I laughed, a shiver making the hair on the back of my neck stand up when she fought another smile. “I’ll come to pick you up in the morning. What time do you usually go in?”

  “Eight.” She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I want to.” I smiled, and the urge to step forward and kiss the top of her head was overwhelming.

  It was how I’d always said goodbye to her.

  But that was then.

  Rae drew in a breath, her eyes flitting down to my feet for a second.

  Instead, I stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rae.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “See you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN – RAELYNN

  For a second there, I thought he was going to kiss me.

  I thought he was going to walk over, cup my chin, and kiss the top of my head the way he always had before.

  And, for a second, I wanted to feel his damn lips flit across my head.

  This was why I’d ignored him before. Despite how I felt emotionally about it, despite how much I hated him for what he’d done, history was a hard thing to let go of.

  I blew out a long breath and rested my head back over the cushion. My toe still throbbed, and more than that, I was frustrated. As much as I’d blamed Chase for it, it was an accident. Sure, he’d shocked me, but he couldn’t have known what would happen.

  It was a fluke. An accident. And annoyingly timed one, but one all the same.

  And maybe I’d been a little cruel when I’d made a half-assed insinuation that he’d done it deliberately.

  In fact, after what Marnie hadn’t been allowed to say, I wasn’t entirely sure he’d done anything deliberately.

  That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though. And that didn’t mean I’d stop hating him anytime soon.

  “So. Chase.” Grandma came back into the room with a mug of steaming tea and sat in the armchair.

  “What about him?”

  “He brought you home. He’s in your store. And a little birdie told me you had lunch together yesterday.”

  I held up a hand. “We did not have lunch together. He took it upon himself to join me for lunch, then we fought, and I left. So he followed me, and we fought some more.”

  “And today?”

  “He saw me failing to use the steamer and offered his help. I took it, which was my first mistake.” I sipped my water. “The second was leaving the door open when Soph and I were steaming so he could scare the hell out of me. As my toe can attest to.”

  Grandma chuckled. “So, you’re talking? And he’s painting the store tomorrow?”

  “He says it’s an apology. I call it a punishment.”

  “Not everyone hates painting, sugar.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not having him do it by choice. If I show up and try to do it myself, there’s no doubt he’ll barge in, sit me down, and take over.”

  Like he had earlier when I refused to sit down, and he’d thrown me over his shoulder like I weighed absolutely nothing.

  I was mad about that, too.

  And the piggyback.

  Just about everything.

  Even the way my skin tingled when he touched me. That was the thing I hated most.

  Plus, my poor freaking toe.

  “Did I hear him say he was going to pick you up tomorrow?”

  “Stop it,” I told her. “Stop picking it apart. He’s making an apology by helping me out since I can’t do it because he scared me.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Don’t hmm at me. It’s true.”

  “I never said it wasn’t. I was merely thinking about the implications of your decision to have him in the store.”

  “Which are what?”

  “He’s your ex. He’s the only boy you’ve ever loved, Raelynn.”

  I ignored that last bit. Mostly. “He’s not a boy. He’s twenty-seven.”

  “Exactly.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “He’s a boy to me.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked away. “Whatever. He’s just helping out one time. It’s not going to result in anything other than that. Take your head out of the clouds.”

  Grandma laughed and stood back up. “Here’s the remote control, hopalong. Shout for me if you need anything.”

  I huffed and took the controller, but I shot her a smile as she left.

  I didn’t know what to think about today, so I wasn’t going to think about it. I was going to sit here, find something to watch on TV, and pretend I wasn’t almost helpless in terms of even getting myself to the bathroom until these pills kicked in.

  Yep.

  That was what I was going to do.

  ***

  I was waiting on the front step by the time Chase showed up. It was already in the eighties despite it being barely eight in the morning. I was this close to sweating when he finally pulled up in his car and got out.

  “How’s your toe?” was the first thing he said to me.

  “Judging by the way it looked this morning, not good.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Not as bad as yesterday, but it hurts to walk.” I tried to get up using my heel, but I couldn’t quite do it.

  Chase chuckled and held out his hands.

  I had no choice. I wasn’t getting up by myself. I r
eally hadn’t thought this through.

  I put my hands in his, and he gently pulled me up. “Thank you,” I said, releasing his hands.

  “You’re welcome. You didn’t think that through, did you?”

  I dipped my head because that was exactly what I’d just thought. “Not really.”

  He smirked. “Can you limp to the car?”

  “I think so.” I took a couple steps. “Yep. I’m good. The drugs help.”

  His laughter followed me to the car. He did, however, beat me to it. Which wasn’t entirely surprising given that I was about as fast as a turtle. Limping in flip-flops wasn’t easy, for the record.

  Chase grabbed the handle and opened the door for me, ushering me in with an extravagant wave of his hand. Shaking my head, I got into the car and set my purse on the floor between my feet.

  “What’s with the dungarees?” he asked when he joined me inside.

  “This is my, ‘I look like I’m painting, but I’m supervising,’ outfit,” I replied. “What’s with the stool on the back seat?”

  He glanced back, then peered over at me. “That’s my, ‘I know Rae won’t sit and let me do it all,’ stool. There’s another in the trunk for your other foot, as well as an extra-long roller for when you get antsy.”

  “I don’t know whether or not I should say thank you for the stool or argue about me getting antsy.”

  “Here’s an idea, just say thank you.” He pulled out of the drive. “If it’s not too much hassle for your inner asshole.”

  “I was going to say it until you said that.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. I’m not. Not even a little bit.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked out of the window. He was insufferably irritating. He knew where all my buttons were and how to push all of them.

  Was that why I was afraid? Because if he could push my angry buttons, he could push the rest of them?

  No. That wouldn’t happen. I had self-control. Sure, my eyes wandered every now and then, but I was human. I was a red-blooded woman whose hormones occasionally took control over my regular brain.

  It happened to men all the time, and nobody judged them for poor choices. I was allowed a few every now and then.