Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,46
give him more than a piece of your mind,” I call out.
The shop is freezing again, and Jeff is banging away at something in the basement. He refuses to pay for an actual electrician, the cheap bastard. My hands are numb, and I debate pouring hot water over them to thaw them out. Clicking through some research on Charlotte’s laptop for class so I don’t fall behind is the only thing taking my mind off the fact I’m freezing to death slowly but surely. I read the same article a couple of times over while my brain begins shutting down. A long-term study of over ten thousand adopted children in Denmark strongly indicates a predisposition to chronic criminal components may be inherited.
“That yummy neighbor guy is in again.” Charlotte winks over at table eight before looking at the screen of her laptop and snorting. “That’s grim.”
“It’s research. I have a paper due.”
We came in together today. Detective Barnett wasn’t outside when we came down. Must have had more important things to worry about than little old me going on a killing spree.
“He hasn’t stopped looking over here at you,” she teases, wiping an already dry glass.
My body is acutely aware he’s here. “You asked me if I think it’s weird, he showed up when the killings began, do you?” I find myself asking, a nagging throbbing in the back of my head.
“No way. No one that good looking has issues with women.” She sighs, scooping the whipped cream from a hot chocolate she made herself while looking over at him.
“You know that’s crazy, right?” I scoff. “Ted Bundy was good looking.”
“He fucked corpses.” She snorts. “And they say he was good looking, but have you seen the pictures?” Gesturing with her thumb down, she shakes her head.
“Lizzy, I pay you to work, not play on the internet. Go fill his cup before he scares off the other customers just staring at you like a fucking creep,” Jeff orders from behind me. He’s holding a wrench and stinks of vile body odor.
“For fuck’s sake, Jeff. Ever heard of a shower?” Charlotte gags. His eyes narrow on her, and she faces off with him, hand on her hip, shoulders back, tits pushed forward.
“Ever heard of a filter for that mouth of yours?”
Rolling her eyes, she goes back to placing the glass on the shelf. “Did you fix the heat?” she asks over her shoulder.
“No,” he grumbles. “Need a plumber.” You and us both, pal.
“It’s freezing in here, Jeff. My nipples are going to cut through my shirt.”
“You could always take it off.” Her gasp is animated. I’m already sick of their sparring.
“Are you looking for a sexual harassment complaint?” Before he can reply, his cell phone begins singing some eighties track that makes Charlotte snort-laugh.
The coffee finishes brewing, giving me a reason to go over to him. I catch him assessing me as I approach. My heart stampedes inside my chest. I have no idea why this man evokes such a response from me, but he does. It’s the first time in my life anyone has made me jittery just by looking at me. I make it to his table, each step triggering a stammer of my heartbeat. The pot of coffee shakes mildly in my hand. I top off his empty cup, feeling his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face.
“Anything else?” I ask as the bell dings. Stephan walks in, seeking me out.
“You could join me,” he says, smiling.
“I’m on shift.” I cringe.
He looks around me at the deserted tables. An excited pulse flutters through my blood, leaving a heady feeling in its wake. “I better…” I gesture to Stephan behind me with a jerk of my hand, “get back to work.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I find myself looking back at him over my shoulder, sighing internally when his eyes stay on me. It’s oddly comforting.
“Who’s that?” Stephan asks, frowning back at Green Eyes.
“I’m not sure,” I tell him, because it’s the truth. Who is he?
Stroking a hand through his hair, he adds, “Well, he’s looking at you like you’re on the menu.” It shouldn’t make me feel warm in places, but it does.
“What are you doing here?” Glancing at the clock, I turn to face him.
“I thought I’d give you a ride to class.” He puts an arm around my shoulder, almost possessively.
“I’m not going in today,” I murmur, slipping from beneath his hold.
“Liz, you can’t avoid the place.” He follows me as I wipe