Page 68 of Guilty Minds
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“What will you be doing about Caroline?”
Freya is one of the very few people who know about her and the money I’ve been sending to her.
“The same.” I shrug. “Keep the paychecks steady. She can find me anywhere. Besides that, I can’t take the money from Maddie.”
"I still think this whole thing sounds shady." Her forehead wrinkles with concern. She's been giving me grief about sending money to them, but there isn't much I can do about it.
“You think?” My chuckle is dark.
She throws a cookie at me, and I’m surprised I catch it. “Smartass.”
The topic of Caroline is always a mood downer for me, and Freya catches on quickly. We move to the living room with a large bowl of popcorn andMagic Mikeon the big screen Alex proudly displays over the fireplace. What a man.
The rest of the evening goes just how I need it to: the healing company of a good friend.
ChapterTwenty
KAYLA
The next day comes and goes way too fast. I’m currently busy cleaning this damn coffee machine. Again. It doesn’t make a good espresso anymore, and I religiously descale it every week. I did everything. I YouTubed instructions on how to fix it and nothing; the machine still doesn't yield enough espresso.
I wipe the sweat from my temple.
The last video I watched recommended I open the machine's frame and clean it manually. I produce a screwdriver from the pantry (because, yes, I stocked up on more useful tools just in case—even though Freya promised that she only hadoneevil ex). I unscrew the cover from the machine that somehow stopped working after only a couple months of use and put it aside.
I sent Marina home an hour ago. She’ll be here earlier than roosters wake up and will be exhausted by the time we need to close the diner. I’m alone (with a locked door, mind you, because this woman has learned her lesson), so I can blast my rock music as loud as I want. There are no residential units in this building, and all the businesses are closed at this hour.
Humming “nothing else matters” along with James Hetfield, I proceed to take apart the inside of this boujee coffee. YouTube suggested I remove the brewing system and clean it thoroughly under the water. So, I do as instructed: I remove the system and carefully move it to the sink when a knock on the door startles me, and I drop the system on the floor.
“Fuck!” I yelp. Marina will kill me! The next knock sounds louder, and I finally look up.
Justin’s standing behind the door, watching me with a small smile on his face. When I see him, I expect my heart to start pounding as it usually does, but it doesn’t. In fact, it’s calm. I’m calm. Turns out, an evening with Freya to talk through my problems put my mind in the right place. I lift the system up and check if it’s broken—it’s not, thank God—and go to the door.
I open it but don’t move to let him in. I wait to see what will happen.
“Need some help?” His tone is hesitant.
I look back at the sink where the system might be living its last day, which may also be my last day if it’s broken, and Marina kills me. I nod and step aside. He comes in, bringing a scent of masculinity with him, and I try not to breathe so his crazy ass pheromones won’t drive me insane.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His smile is sheepish. He isneversheepish with me.
I shrug, not trusting my voice. I'm not as affected by him as I was before, but I’m also not unaffected. His brows knit together but then relax just as fast. Justin walks to the sink and lifts the brewing system into his hands. “Stopped brewing enough?”
I nod. He must have expected my silent treatment because he looks at me when I respond. He takes a screwdriver from the table and unscrews the mechanism more. It’s not like I know how to fix it, and he looks like somebody who knows his ways around tools. I sit back and just watch his large hands move the mechanism around. A few minutes later, he puts it all together, rinses it, and installs it back into the machine. He then continues to professionally grind the beans, starting the machine. He gets the perfect amount of liquid with the most beautiful-looking crema I’ve ever seen. Right, I forgot that Justin’s a coffee snob.
He lifts the cup to his nose and takes a deep breath before taking a sip. He licks his lips, and my eyes are glued to his throat while he takes a lazy gulp. The corner of his lip quirks up, and I know I’ve been caught. I look up and see a twinkle in his eyes. He stretches his arm out and offers me the rest of the coffee. The only thing I manage to do is to shake my hands and swallow the massive lump in my own throat, causing Justin to smile wider.
I cough nervously and murmur a barely audible "Thanks” before walking to the kitchen.
He follows me. “Do you need help with anything else?”
I stop suddenly and turn to him with my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here, Justin?”
“Trying to see how I can help.” He looks around, but all the work is done. The diner is in perfect condition after our renovation. Besides the coffee machine, of course. But now, even that problem is fixed.
“We’re good.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here, Justin? And don’t bullshit me with your ‘help’ story.”
