Tru started to groan at the prospect of having to do work, but then the second half of my sentence registered. “He’s coming to the bakery? For what?”
“To help balance the books,” I said. “He’s a business student.”
“But you don’t want me there when he’s there.” A catlike smirk played on Tru’s lips.
“No, because you’re annoying, and will inevitably distract us from the actual work we’ll be doing,” I said, but Tru was clearly unconvinced.
“Excellent,” Tru said. “Love that for you. Private business date. Very romantic.”
“Shut up.”
Tru hopped off the couch and stretched his arms over his head. “Just because I’m nice, I’ll come feed the starters. Maybe even chop up the baking chocolate for you.”
“My hero,” I deadpanned.
Tru barked a laugh. I’d definitely have to get him out of Stella’s before Heath arrived—letting them spend too much time together would be a recipe for disaster.
But maybe he was right. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t come crashing down if I took a few minutes to think about what I wanted—and what Heath wanted—instead of what was best for the clubs. Maybe I could balance it…find a way to give into this thing with Heath, help him build some confidence, see where things could lead—but keep it casual. Don’t let so much of my heart get involved, so that I could mitigate the risks a bit…
The only problem was that I always felt pretty grounded when I was on my own—but when Heath was around, my common sense always seemed to fly out the window the second I laid eyes on him.
15
Heath
“Hey,” I said as I hurried down the stairs, pulling my jacket onto my shoulders. “I was just about to text you. I’m heading into Junee, need anything?”
I’d been distracted away from my text by my email. Another one of those weird spam emails had popped up—this time, it’d simply read TIME’S UP. For a second, I thought I should tell Blade about it—but then he wouldn’t let me leave.
And it was probably nothing anyway. Blade had enough on his plate, I didn’t want to add more if I wasn’t sure I needed to.
Blade looked up from the kitchen island where he was working through an enormous piece of apple pie. Logan had one, too, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, peering over a sprawl of documents that looked like a mix of tax records and land deeds. Jazz was sitting nearby, too, with Siren, reviewing a map of the territory and discussing the new enforcement patrols. Whatever they were working on, I wasn’t envious.
“Junee?” Blade raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing out there?”
All four pairs of eyes drilled into me. And they all looked a little amused.
“Dante asked me to stop by the bakery.” I shifted from foot to foot a little, a bit hesitant under their probing gazes. “Apparently he’s fucked up his books.”
“Apparently,” Logan echoed, grinning knowingly.
“And now he knows a business major,” Siren said, nodding. “Very convenient.”
“Convenient indeed,” Jazz agreed in a teasing tone.
“I’m just going to look at them and see if there’s anything I can help with,” I said. My cheeks burned, and I wasn’t quite sure why. “I thought it was a nice thing to do. But if you think I should cancel—”
“No, no,” Blade said, waving his hand dismissively. “More contact between the clubs is good, even if it’s not part of the agreed-upon reparations.”
Logan nodded in agreement, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion. Were they planning something? What was I missing? I wanted to linger and ask questions, but… Dante had told me not to be late.
“All right, well, I won’t be out there long,” I said, edging toward the door.
“Don’t rush on our account,” Siren said with a little smirk.
I said my goodbyes and hurried outside to where my bike was parked.
“Kid,” Jazz called from the porch. “Wait a second.”
I glanced at the time on my phone. There were no more emails, and I still had plenty of time—I’d definitely be early—but I couldn’t stop thinking about Dante telling me not to be late. I just—didn’t want to disappoint him. “What’s up?”
Jazz jogged across the lot to catch up with me. “Listen, I just wanted to check in with you—everything okay between you and Dante?”
I cringed internally a little. I really didn’t want to talk about it, especially when things were sort of nebulous between Dante and me—but I couldn’t blow Jazz off either. Not when his amber eyes were a little crinkled