Also, it was conveniently located three blocks from the third dimension of hell—also known as Devin Harris’s office—so that meant she could sneak in for the regular chat and still report to her fake job on time.
A bell trilled as she pushed through the coffee shop’s front doors. It only took a second to spot her best friends already lounging on the Burberry plaid loveseat facing the kitchen. Those who lived and died by their daily dose of caffeine filled every other available seat, and more than a few of them were shooting dirty looks toward the duo on the couch.
“How did you manage to get such prime seats?” Ryder sat down in the red leather chair next to the loveseat.
“Shhh, doll baby,” Drea whispered, her gaze fixed solidly over Ryder’s left shoulder. “He’s doing something to the dough that I wish he was doing to me.”
The loveseat had become prime real estate ever since the world’s hottest pastry chef started working at Coffee Grounds. The couch faced the glass wall dividing the front of the house from the kitchen, giving patrons a look into the inner workings of the coffee shop. Right now that meant watching the dark-haired delight in the white chef’s jacket roll and knead the lightly floured dough in front of him. For a full minute, Drea didn’t blink her eyes, which were done up in a thick cat’s eye with white, shimmery powder that contrasted perfectly with her dark brown skin. As a makeup artist to Harbor City’s elite fashionable set, Drea didn’t do au naturele.
Ryder shook her head and giggled. “You are such a perv.”
“Nah, I just know what I like and I’m not afraid to go get it.” She slid her dark-eyed glance Ryder’s way. “Unlike some people I know who seem to think they have some sort of dude curse.”
Her chest tightened with a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and chagrin. She loved her best friends, but she’d made her decision of a commitment-free year to retrain her guy-dar so she’d stop falling for the same brand of shithead as she had in the past and she was sticking to it.
“Don’t you start in, too, Drea.” She took a sip of the double mocha latte already waiting for her on the table. Nothing settled her nerves as much as knowing she had good friends who knew her well enough to get her emergency order without even asking. “Sylvie is already riding me about my year of no relationships. I’ve been practicing serial monogamy with one loser after another since I was eighteen. You can’t deny I’m an asshole magnet. Anyway, I can’t go through what happened with Heath again.”
Anxiety formed a lump in her throat. Just the idea of falling hard for the wrong guy again had her stomach doing the rhumba. Had she gone overboard? Maybe. But she wasn’t about to admit it.
Sylvie leaned forward and snagged a chocolate crumpet. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.” Her smile softened her words. “We’ve all had our hearts broken by jerks, and Heath was in a class of his own, but that was more than a year ago. Don’t you think it’s time to get back out there?”
“You say that like I’m not dating. I am.” Okay, that might be a stretch. It was more like an experiment in keeping it all physical without any of the emotional stuff.
“Just not the same guy twice. Or anyone you’re really interested in.” Sylvie retorted.
“Do I need to go down the ex hall of shame again? It’s a long fucking list, capped off by Heath, the guy wh
o lied about everything and tried to beat the shit out of me when I confronted him about it.”
Drea said, “The chances of you getting duped by a catfish scheme twice in one lifetime by an abusive dickwad are pretty fucking low.” She dragged her focus away from the pastry chef. “Heath, or whatever the hell his name really is, lied to you online, pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and went so far as to share fake pics of his dog with his dying mom to convince you he was legit. It’s how scum like him operates. They build trust. You did your due diligence—”
“And yet I still ended up in the emergency room with a broken wrist and a black eye.” Ryder squirmed in her seat, wishing more than anything she could take out her own shortcomings on a kick bag. After she’d gotten the cast off her wrist, she’d returned to Paulie’s Gym and rediscovered herself. Each punch and every kick made her stronger, safer, and more in control. That’s where she’d come up with her one-date-only policy. It was like a hard reboot of her system that she hoped would reset her sense of attraction.
Sylvie squeezed her hand. “You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. Heath is to blame. Not you. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you’re doing now is shutting yourself off to life’s possibilities.”
“I have my reasons.” Grabbing hold of her mile-wide stubborn streak like a life preserver on open waters, she forced her fidgeting body to still. “No one else in the world but you two knows exactly what they are, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Drea’s full lips settled into a thin line. “What I know is that you’re using that fucked up situation with that asshole to tread water. Life is always moving forward, and you have to move with it. Holding onto all that dead weight does nothing for you but give you bags under your eyes that my makeup brush can’t hide.”
“I thought there was nothing you couldn’t fix.”
“Don’t try to butter me up, doll baby. I am un-butter-up-able.” Drea sipped her chai tea. “But you’re right. I’m damn good.”
Ryder couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up inside as she glanced down at her watch. “Shit, I’m going to have to blaze soon.”
“Big case?” Sylvie asked.
“Sort of.” Ryder popped a chocolate pastry bite into her mouth, and pleasure rippled from her tongue throughout her body. Damn, that chef was good to look at and made the most divine goodies. She might just throw down with Drea for him. “I’m going undercover as a personal assistant for a few days.”
“And you thought assistants dressed like that chick from The Matrix?” Sylvie asked.
Ryder smoothed her hand against her black pencil skirt and made sure all the buttons on her black button down were fastened. “She wasn’t wearing a skirt.”
Sylvie shook her head. “Ryder.”
“Come on. Besides, Mom got me this skirt.”
“For a funeral, no doubt.” Drea bumped fists with Sylvie. “Doll baby, there is nothing wrong with adding a little color to your all-black wardrobe. Come on, get crazy.”