Starlee's Home (The Wayward Sons 3)

“Yeah, catcher.”

I make a face. “I don’t really know what that means.”

“It means I work my ass off and my knees hurt all the time.” He says it with a good-natured smile. We pass a pick-up parked in the driveway with thick mud caked in the tires and he opens the door of the coffee shop, holding it open for me to walk in.

I haven’t been in the shop for a few weeks but I figure coming in with another person makes it legit. Sierra can’t actually ban me from spending money here. The mural on the wall is untouched—George isn’t here to make any changes--and there’s a few people in line. Saturdays are busy and Sierra mans the counter and I see movement in the kitchen. Probably both Jake and Dex are back there. I feel weird being here, and shove my hands in my pockets.

“So I guess you come here all the time?” Jasper says. “You know, since it’s next door.”

“Right. Yeah, we come a lot. My grandmother is addicted to their coffee and pastries.”

I don’t mention that although I like the sweets, I’m mostly addicted to the boy that makes them all.

Jasper’s eyes skim the board and now that we’re up close I notice they’re a nice gray-blue. “Any suggestions? I don’t think I understand the menu.”

I smile. “Everything’s based off the TV show Supernatural. So, like the coffee is named after Sam, one of the main characters, and his nickname is Moose so there’s a muffin called that, too. Then there’s Dean’s doughnuts and Crowley’s crepes and Lucifer’s lemon tart…”

“Gotcha.”

“Have you ever watched it?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I think it’s kind of a chick thing, right?”

Oh boy, he’d get a lecture if Sierra heard him say that. “I don’t know. I think guys like it, too.”

He smiles down at me. “If you think it’s good, maybe I should check it out.”

The people in front of us move up a little and I glance at the counter. Dexter stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed in my direction. I realize he’s not looking at me, but at Jasper.

I give him a small smile and he raises his eyebrows in return.

“Dude, I need a box of Crossroads buns for Charlie,” George says, appearing in the kitchen doorway. He notices Dexter looking my way and rests his hand on the doorframe. A small smile crosses his lips until Dex glances at him and elbows him in the side. “Ouch.”

The last two customers complete their order and move to the side, waiting for Sierra to serve it to them.

“George, I’m glad you stopped by, but you really need to get out from behind the counter,” she tells him. “You’re messing up my flow.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, eyes focused on me. He swings around the counter and moves to the back of the shop, near his mural. The number of eyes watching me grows.

Dexter walks over to his sister and whispers something in her ear. His sharp jaw clenches tight. I’m not sure but I think I hear him say, “And this is why you can’t fuck around with people’s lives.”

Jasper steps forward, ready to order, oblivious to the quiet dramatics going on around us. Dexter storms back in the kitchen, followed by a loud clang of pots and pans. Jake walks out with two plates, a deep scowl on his handsome face, no doubt directed at Dex. Delicious-smelling Crowley’s crepes sit on the plates and he hands them to Sierra, realizing I’m in the shop. His frown lifts into something lazy, knowing, eyes darting to my mouth. My cheeks heat (again) thinking about last night, and Sierra finally turns around holding two fresh coffee cups and recognition crosses her face.

“Sorry for all the chaos,” she tells the couple waiting. She thanks them and then shifts her attention to me and Jasper. “Starlee, I didn’t see you come in.”

“Jasper wanted to drop in and grab something—we’ve got a service project thing today.”

“Oh really?” She brushes her hair out of her face. Both Jake and Dex stand in the door, making no effort to hide the fact they’re listening. “What kind of project?”

“We’re getting a tree for the school.” I look at the boys, including George, who is sprawled out on a chair behind us, licking sugar off his fingers. My lips part, watching his leisurely clean-up.

“For what, again?”

I snap my face back to the counter. “The, uh, mitten tree. We’re collecting gloves and mittens and things like that.”

“That’s really nice.” She glances at her brother. “You should take some in.”

Dexter crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll get right on that.”