who I want.
Valerie.
And the truth is, I want some breakfast backup. I don’t really trust myself going alone to Hot Spot. Valerie is a waitress there… and it’s hard not to think about all the ways I want to make her mine. Heart. Mind. Soul.
But she’s my little sister Georgina’s best friend and that complicates things.
Still, it doesn’t diminish the truth. I want Valerie. Badly.
She is petite, with curvy hips, perfect tits, and a smile that makes me melt. Her laugh is soft, yet infectious. She is generous with her time and endlessly patient with my sister. She works hard, has fought for the life she’s got. After I got shot, she’d bring me lunch every day from the diner, my favorite matzo ball soup mostly, telling me I needed something to warm my bones. Even though it wasn’t my bones that were broken — it was the spot right beside my heart.
It was the best part of the day, her bringing me lunch. She’d never stay long — always had a reason to leave. To feed her cat. To do laundry. Another shift.
But God, how I wanted her to stay. Move in. Be my goddamn wife.
Still, I never made a move. But it’s been months now, and my feelings have only grown.
Maybe it’s time I man up and tell the girl how I feel.
After the workout is finished — and I get my name on the board for the best time of the day — I clean up quickly, putting on my uniform. My stomach growls and I’d be lying if I said my cock wasn’t hungry too.
Damn. Just thinking about seeing Val gets me all worked up. That girl has never once given me reason to believe she’d be interested in me. But she’s still the girl I want.
I cut through the alley on the way to the diner — and what I see stops me in my tracks.
Valerie
I’m good at pretending. At acting like I have my shit together… my life all sorted… but truthfully? I’m hanging on by a thread.
Rent is due, my cell phone is turned off for late payments, and my best friend is acting distant, leaving me alone with my thoughts… which isn’t a good thing.
I spent years in foster care, mostly a group home, which meant I had to fend for myself. But after the costs for a visit to the emergency room this winter when I came down with pneumonia, and two weeks out of work as I recovered, I haven’t seemed to catch up.
And I’m tired of facing the world alone.
I’m lost in my thoughts, my purse on my shoulder, my earbuds in. It’s only nine in the morning. Too early to already feel so defeated. But when I tried to check my texts this morning and realized that my phone was turned off, I admit that I had a good long cry. Georgie was still gone from the night before — and I was alone in our apartment. So I allowed myself the luxury of an old-fashioned shower-sob.
I turn the corner toward Hot Spot, where I’ve been serving coffee and pie for a few years, and take deep breaths, wanting to show up to work as if nothing is wrong. Because that is the kind of girl I am. Put on a brave face, smile, and pretend everything is okay.
But when someone shoves me against the brick wall of the alley in a mask, with a gun, grabbing my bag, I freeze.
Panic.
What is happening?
“Don’t scream,” the masked man hisses sharply. “Just give me your money.”
“I don’t have much,” I tell him, his forearm pressed against my throat. “Let me go,” I beg. I kick at him, trying to knee him, but he is bigger than me, stronger too, and the gun makes me second-guess that tactic. Tears stream down my face as he empties my pockets — not that there’s anything to take — and he pulls my wallet from my purse.
I think he is gonna get away, just like that — but then I hear someone shouting, telling him to raise his hands. “I’m a police officer and you are under arrest.”
I turn, eyes wide, cheeks streaked with tears.
Vance.
Chapter Two
Vance
I call for backup and soon enough, the masked man is handcuffed and carted away in a police cruiser. I call the station and let them know that I’m going to file the report when I get in.
Right now, I have something else to worry about.
Valerie.
She’s wrapped her arms