Fallen Heirs (Windsor Academy 3)

“What did John have to say earlier?”

I give her a wry look. “Nice change in topic.”

Jazz raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“He basically said the FBI guy was happy with the audio I got from the party. My dad’s gone for the week, so John’s going to keep an eye on your dad, Madeline, and Peyton and see if they give him anything useful.”

“So, we’re back in a holding pattern?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome.”

This girl speaks sarcasm as fluently as I do.

“You feel like grabbing something to eat?”

“I could eat.” Jazz digs through her purse and pulls out her phone. “Maybe we should call Bentley and see what he’s up to? Boy’s been moody AF lately.”

“You can say that again.”

“What do you think his deal is?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “Maybe he’s just getting sick of pretending like he’s okay all the time.”

“Poor Bent.” She pouts. “We need to find him a girlfriend.”

I scoff. “Uh... no, we don’t. I’ve never played matchmaker a day in my life, and I have no intention of starting now. If Bentley wants a girlfriend, he’s perfectly capable of finding one on his own.”

“So, what you’re saying, is I should recruit Ainsley for this particular mission.”

I laugh. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JAZZ

“Two things you never want to forget, always make sure the bean hopper is topped off, and wipe off the steam wand immediately after each use.”

Misha, my new manager, runs a quick blast of steam and uses a rag to demonstrate the latter. “Any questions?”

I shake my head. “I think I got it. Now, if I can memorize the drinks, I’ll be set.”

He laughs. “It’s easier than you think. Most people stick to the basics. Although, this is Cali, so don’t be surprised if someone asks for a half-caff, sugar-free, grass-fed goat milk latte.”

“Well, of course. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to drink it?”

Misha makes a face. “That’s sure as hell not how I drink it. I’d much rather run five miles every morning so I can have my full-fat, extra-sugary lattes, thank you very much.”

“I hear ya.”

The bell dings above the doorway, indicating a new customer has arrived.

“You wanna try this one?” Misha nods his head to the man walking up to the counter. “I’ll take his order, and I’ll be right here if you need help with the drink.”

I freeze when I follow Misha’s gaze and see the man standing in front of the register.

“Jazz?” Misha prods. “You got this?”