Page 38 of Feverburn

She opened the back driver’s side door, arranging stuff on the seat.“I’m just in the way. Your precious store is fine. Okay? And I will never breathe a word of what we did to Kaylee or Harley. They never have to know we had a thing, that we kissed. Forget it. It’s ourdirtylittlesecret.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Oh, yes, it is!”she hissed, scowlingat me.

I pointed at my store behind me.“Was this somerevengeplot? For hurting you?”

“How dare you accuse me of that! Oh my god! You’reunbelievable!”She grumbled as she fought to put on a leather jacket.

“You’reunbelievable, woman! You've tortured me since you came to this godforsaken place.”I flung my arms out.“If I’m some miserable prick, leave me alone. Leave my store alone, and if you can’t manage to do that, then fucking move!”

Her nostrils flared as she sat in the driver’s seat.“You’re not my landlord!”

“You’re not my problem anymore!”

“I was never yours. I was never youranything.You made that abundantly clear.”And with that, she slammed the door and drove off.

Chapter Seventeen

Frankie cleared me of smoke inhalation at the clinic, and I bunked at Azalea’s apothecary since Stonebriar Inn was booked with tourists. Her kooky great-aunt Eugenia owned the inn, and Azalea was set to inherit it someday. In the meantime, she helped out when she could. She used the old groundskeeper’s quarters as an apothecary. There was a bathroom and enough room for me to put a cot, but no kitchen. It was better than bunking with Kaylee or someone else. I didn’t want to be in the way.

The nights I stayed at the apothecary were more disorienting than usual. I would lay in bed, looking up at the vines on the ceiling, thinking of Carson. I missed andhated him.

After almost a week, Frankie told me I could move back into the loft. I arranged to replace some things, like my mattress, because of the smoke stench. But I was shocked to find a small dresser with roses carved into each drawer already in my loft. She must’ve scored it at an estate sale. God damn, those Kouris kids were so thoughtful.

The brick was lighter from the restoration, and the floor was unscathed. Most of my clothes were in the laundry when the fire happened, so I didn’t lose much except swimsuits, workout clothes, and underwear. More than anything, I wasgratefulit didn’t ruin the hardware store.

The next day, I worked the closing shift with Poe and Kaylee. It was a Sunday night, so it was calmer than usual. Kaylee entered the café, opening her burnout velvet kimono to reveal a Smokey the Bear T-shirt. I studied her in confusion while she chuckled and stuck out her tongue.“Watch this. Harley has alove-haterelationship with Smokey because of the ranger gig.”

Likeclockwork, he entered the shop with his new work dog, a German shepherd named Storm. His eyes ripped to Kaylee with an amused smile while she continued holding her kimono open, dancing like a flasher. He pulled her up in a hug, her feet momentarily dangling while he whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

I looked away, busying myself alongside Poe.

“I get why she’d move here to be with a lumbersnack like that,”she murmured while wiping the counter down.

“A what?”I asked.

“A hot lumberjack. A tasty piece of ass. A lumbersnaaaack,”Poe whispered withextraemphasis, making us both giggle.

Kaylee looked over,oblivious.“Have fun on your date,”I offered, knowing she was leaving early tonight. Seeing Harley open the door for her, I had to look away again.

Sensing we were about to close, the customers cleared out. I told Poe she could leave early. She didn’t argue. I continued prepping everything for tomorrow when the door opened. Carson’s gorgeous eyes made my stomach flip before I could fight it.

“Hey,”was hisstunningopening line.

My body hummed, hearing his deep voice.Don’t betray me now, girl!I pleaded with myself. Squaring my shoulders, I asked,“What can I help you with?”

“I came over to say I’m sorry. I said you weren’t my problem—”

The door opened again with a woman walking in. Carson side-stepped away from the counter, hunkering at a nearby table. As the woman approached, I could tell she was around my age and, on some level, pretty. But her hair hung in a boring bob with a flat black color, like bad box dye. Her skin was chalky white and stretched over her bony clavicles. She looked boring as fuck, like a walking Banana Republic ad.

“I need a large hot latte,”she said without a hello or eye contact. Or please or thank you. Even by New England standards, that was fuckingrude.

“Okay, anything else?”

“No.”

“What’s your name for the order?”I had a theory that some names were bitchier than others.

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