Bad Intentions (Bad Love 2)

“I’m not sure where Sutton lives,” Dare says, breaking the silence. “Briar mentioned the area once, but I don’t know exactly where.”

I search my brain, trying to remember an address or even a street name, but I can’t focus. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I still have the remnants from his face paint smeared along the insides of my thighs, or the fact that I can still feel his teeth marks there.

“She lives off Lakewood,” I say when it finally clicks into place. Dare turns onto Lakewood, and once he sees my dad’s Toyota, he pulls up next to it.

“Thanks,” I say dumbly, not knowing what else to say, especially with my kid brother in the car, pushing the seat forward so he can slip out first. I’m jostled around from the movement, my palm slapping against the dash. My dress has ridden up, and my tights are ripped almost all the way down to my knees. I clamp them shut, feeling exposed from the cold air that hits my damp thighs. Dare eyes me up and down like he’s getting one last look before I leave. His right hand is on the steering wheel, and he lifts four fingers in a wave with a slight dip of his head.

“Later, Sally.”

“So, you and Dare, huh?” Sutton asks as she pulls an upside-down chair off the table as we prepare to open.

“What do you mean?” I ask, playing dumb. I like Sutton. I like her more than anyone I’ve met here, so that basically makes her my best friend by default. She just doesn’t know it yet. But that doesn’t mean I want to fess up to what happened with Dare. It won’t happen again anyway, so there’s no point.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Sutton says, pointing a finger at me and lifting one perfectly plucked brow. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Especially people he doesn’t know.” Is that why everyone seemed surprised when he jumped to my aid?

“You hooked up with Dare?” Jake chimes in from behind the bar. I shoot a look at Sutton, and she mouths sorry with a sheepish shrug.

“I barely know the guy,” I hedge, avoiding a straight answer. It’s none of his business anyway.

“Just…be careful,” Jake finally says, then he and Sutton share a look I can’t decode.

“What?” I ask, waving my hand in the space between them. “What was that about?”

“He’s…dangerous. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I sco

ff. Hurt? I don’t even know the guy. I’m not sure whether he means hurt in the physical or emotional sense, but either way, I can take care of myself.

“I appreciate the concern, but I think I’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that, Jake. I think he’s a good guy.” Sutton has a bite in her tone that I haven’t heard from her before. It surprises me.

“Say that to his foster family,” Jake says, shaking his head. Sutton turns her attention back to me.

“He’s misunderstood. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Jake makes a disapproving sound before disappearing to the back room.

I go back to cutting up the oranges, lemons, and limes for the garnish tray. I’m dying to ask about Dare, but I don’t want to give Sutton more of a reason to believe there’s something going on there. So, I stay silent. And, annoyingly, she doesn’t offer anything else.

After adding some maraschino cherries to the garnish tray, I check the time on the big wooden clock with a black bear on it that reads On Mountain Time. It’s two minutes until eleven, so I flip the sign from Closed to Open.

The rest of the day goes by fast, and my pockets are already fat with tips and I still have two hours to go, so I’m feeling pretty good about life in general. Jake has been weird since earlier, not his usual flirty self, but I don’t let it put a damper on my mood.

I walk toward the break room with a little extra pep in my step. But when I hear Jake’s irritated voice coming from the small office in the back, I stop in the doorway, the smile melting from my lips.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, throwing his phone onto his desk. I tap my knuckles against the doorframe.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What’s up?” When he meets my eyes, his expression is sympathetic, as if my cat just died and he doesn’t know how to break it to me.

“I have to cut your hours.”

“What?” My fingers dig into the doorframe. “Why?”