Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,71

the mood for any of it. Especially not since meeting up with Ricky a few days ago.

That conversation’s been practically all I can think about, wondering how to figure out my dad’s role in all this without calling attention to myself. Or anyone else for that matter. Shit got deep real fast and it feels like the world’s sitting on my shoulders. Which is why it’s been an even bigger strain than usual to get into the Christmas spirit.

Meanwhile, the two assholes I’m walking with are jolly as fuck.

I glance sideways and glare at Dane’s candy cane scarf, then over at Sterling’s lame-ass Santa hat. Needless to say, I want to punch them both in the dick.

They’re carrying bags from damn-near every store inside this place, loading up on gifts for family and friends, plus a ton for themselves, too. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve bought are three giant, soft pretzels I refused to share.

“We’ve still got three weeks to get this shit done,” I remind them. “Our focus should be on the championship, seeing as how we leave tomorrow. Or do you assholes not care about winning?”

Dane rolls his eyes, and I don’t really give a shit if I’m getting under his skin.

“Yes, West, we care,” he says with an annoyed huff. “Just a few more stores to hit, then we can go.”

Sterling turns toward me, and I scowl the second his lips move. No doubt he was about to call me Scrooge again, but I’m guessing he changed his mind. Probably because he knows I’ll make good on my promise to lay his ass out, right here in the mall. I’ve got zero fucks left to give today.

“Think Joss’ll like the stuff I got her?” Dane asks, drawing a frustrated sigh out of me.

“Idiot, you bought her a game system—the one thing her parents don’t want her to have,” I point out, likely reminding him of their many rants about those things being a distraction from schoolwork and shit.

“Didn’t ask if they’d like it,” he counters. “I asked if you think she’ll like it.”

Frustrated, I sigh before grumbling a response. “Fuck if I know. I guess.”

It almost seems like he wants her dad to hate him. The guy’s been looking for a reason to set Dane’s ass on fire since day one. My guess? This will be the thing that’ll send him right over the edge.

Okay, so maybe I do sound a little like Scrooge, but both my brothers are ignoring me, so it doesn’t really matter. Whatever the case, I don’t really give a shit. I just want to get the fuck out of this place.

“Here, hold these. I smell cookies,” Sterling says, shoving his bags into one of my hands, before Dane shoves his into the other.

I’m not even given a chance to protest before they start toward the pastry shop a few yards away. I’m left to stand here, like the ugly chick at the club who gets stuck watching all the purses.

Fuck-ing fantastic.

I scan this place. It’s crawling with people. Most of whom are smiling, all of whom are spending money they don’t really have to impress a bunch of people who won’t even appreciate it.

I hear my own thoughts, so I know I sound like the fucking Grinch. But I have my reasons for hating this time of year and, of course, Vin’s at the root of it. He turns the holiday into a make-up day, thinking his habit of overdoing it with gifts makes up for falling short the other three-hundred sixty-four days of the year. Hence the reason I’m thinking about bailing this Christmas. Grandpa Boone has an open-door policy with his grandkids and I’m thinking about taking him up on that soon.

Basically, I just need a damn break.

Above the usual mall sounds—chatter and damp boots squeaking across the tile, I hear loud voices coming from the other direction. I turn and spot someone I don’t expect to see. But there she is, her reddening face framed in pale-pink hair.

At first, I assume she’s just hanging out with a group of friends, but half a second later, I realize that’s wrong. First clue is when one of the little punks gets in her face, then another shoves her. She nearly loses her footing, coming within inches of landing in the fountain, but I’m already on my way, rushing through the crowd, pushing those aside who aren’t moving quickly enough.

The second I step up, the little shits’ eyes are wide, a blend