Page 13 of The Devil's Waltz

You better tell me if you’re bringing her here.

You also better bring me one of those chocolate croissants.

Get me a croissant.

Are you getting my messages, X?

Please confirm you have my croissant.

Something between an annoyed sigh and a growl passes my lips, and I pocket my phone without responding. Something tells me the bastard takes pride in annoying me.

I get behind the wheel and start the engine just before a call comes through on the bluetooth. “I didn’t get you a fucking croissant, jackass.”

“I certainly hope you didn’t speak to the hunters’ daughter like that.” Lucia’s voice fills my car.

I grit my teeth as my stomach plummets. I close my eyes and drop my head back against the headrest, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles go white.

Swallowing a curse, I force a level tone. “Hello, Mother.”

FIVECAMILLE

I can’t stop thinking about Xander. I can’t get the feel of his lips on my cheek out of my head. Will he kiss me for real next time? A shiver skates up my spine at the thought, filling my stomach with a warmth that travels lower as I get lost in the idea of his hands on me.

It’s good the café is quiet tonight, because my thoughts are elsewhere—mainly, wondering when I’ll get to see him again. I’ve only been on a handful of first dates, but that one was easily the best. Despite the mess of nerves in my chest from overthinking if it evenwasa date, I enjoyed myself. Being with him is exciting.

“Helloooooo?”

I blink quickly, snapping back to reality as my cheeks flush hotly. “Sorry!” Relief floods through me when I recognize the next customer. “Hey, Pheebs.”

“You were totally daydreaming.” She grins, her eyes twinkling orbs of green. “Sorry to interrupt.”

I exhale a laugh as my pulse returns to normal, then look past her to Grayson and Adrianna. “What can I get you guys?”

He steps forward, dropping his arm around Phoebe’s shoulders, and smiles. He dresses as if he’s a trust fund kid whose family owns a country club—neither of which is true—and he’d give anyone the clothes off his back. Today, his pale blue polo brings out his eyes, which, on any given day, look either gray or blue. He and Phoebe met at a party in freshman year and have been dating ever since. “I’ll take a cappuccino with extra foam. Thanks, Cami.”

Adrianna purses her dark red lips as she studies the menu above my head. “Give me the largest size of your strongest blend. Harper and I have this stupid project due tomorrow, so I’ll be pulling an all-nighter to finish my part.”

I wince. “That’s rough.” I punch their drinks into the system at the register. “Do you want a snack to go with your bucket of coffee?”

“Hmm, yeah. Good call.” She pulls her wallet from the pocket of her navy U Wash hoodie before checking out the display case of desserts. Adrianna fits the typical college student persona, wearing a sweater and yoga pants with a pair of slip-on sandals and socks. Her black hair is twisted into a messy bun, but behind her glasses, her eyes are fully done with eyeliner and lash extensions. I guess she looks more like a model for a college admissions pamphlet. “How about a blueberry muffin and a chocolate chip cookie?”

“You got it,” I say before turning to Phoebe. “Anything for you?”

“I’m good, thanks. These two were desperate for caffeine. I just tagged along for the visit.”

“Well, sit anywhere.” I gesture around the empty café.

“Where is everyone?” Grayson asks, raking his fingers through his mop of brownish copper curls and looking around.

I shrug. “A Starbucks opened a few blocks down last week. Their prices are probably lower.”

Phoebe shrugs off her jean jacket, draping it over the back of a chair before dropping into it. “Yeah, but Starbucks doesn’t haveyou.”

I send a grin her way while the others sit around the table. I make their drinks, bring them over with Adrianna’s snacks, then lean against the counter so I can sneak back quickly if anyone comes in.

“I’m hosting a getaway at my parents’ lake house in a few weeks,” Adrianna says. “I’m telling you now so you can make sure you’re not working then.”

“Sounds fun. I’ll let the owner know I need that weekend off.” I can’t see it being a problem, considering they’ve been cutting my shifts for the last couple of weeks. It’s almost bad enough that I’ll have to look for another job to pay next semester’s tuition. Instead of dwelling on that right now, I ask, “Is Harper coming?”

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