Foolproof (3 page)

“I can’t get this stupid thing to work.” She was almost in tears as she pushed her device across the counter. “All I want is to video chat with my grandson and show his pictures to my friends.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I opened up her tablet and
holy shit
the whole interface was in disarray. Tons of overdue updates, her email wouldn’t refresh. Normally, Dad would just do the bare minimum and click on a few updates, but this lady needed a complete overhaul. For Christ sake, this was so outdated, I was surprised any of her apps were working.

I furrowed my brows, still staring at the screen. “Er—why don’t you come back in a couple hours, ma’am.”

“Thank you so much, dear. And please, call me Helen.”

“My pleasure, Helen.” I knew Dad wouldn’t like me spending this much time working on her iPad, but hell if I was going to deprive this lady of seeing her grandson. She reminded me of my grandma, and that woman was my Achilles heel. She was a goddess in my book, always making me homemade doughnuts and brownies for soccer trips. When I stayed the night at her house as a kid, she’d let me stay up late, and we’d watch horror movies and eat greasy popcorn that Mom would never keep in the house. God, I loved that woman.

An hour and a half later, I had her device up and running, her email updated, and even put a picture of her grandson as her background.

Helen came back into the store, and I handed her the tablet. I’d written down the instructions for how to update applications and which buttons to press in order to video chat and how to save her pictures from her email.

“Oh, I can’t wait to chat with Grayson on the video thing. Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

“No problem. Come back if you have any more problems, or you can call the store. I can probably talk you through it over the phone.”

She nodded and hugged the device to her chest. After she exited the store, I went back to stocking paper on the display shelf. Jules strode over a few minutes later, more reams of paper tucked under her arm.

She arranged the paper and said, “Good to know you can be nice to someone.”

“Don’t tell anyone—it might ruin my image.”

“Don’t worry. You’re still an asshole in my book.”

“Nice to know my reputation stands.”

What kind of dipshit response was that? Talking to this girl turned me into an idiot. I knew it’d be smart to stay away from her, but something about Peach drove me a little crazy.

Maybe it was the stiletto heels. Could also be the fact she could shell out sarcastic comments without batting those heavily lined eyes. Or her full lips that I’d kill to know if they tasted as good as they looked. She seemed like someone who would make me work for it. Someone who would be the perfect hookup for the summer, no commitment needed. I’d give it a week, two tops, before I had this girl in my bed.

Chapter Five

Jules

I scrambled back into Office Jax and beelined it for the break room where I’d left my purse. I’d been in such a hurry to leave after my shift with that crap bag Ryan. Seriously, could anyone be a bigger jerk? I highly doubted it. Sure, he was nice to old grannies, but the general population got Eeyore’s evil twin.

Right before I pushed through the door of the break room, I heard Ryan’s voice. “Are those the red panties? The ones with the lace on the edges?”

Gross. Was he having phone sex? At work? This dude was ballsy. I slumped against the wall, listening in like a total perv. Something about his low voice talking about naughty bits sent a jolt of heat straight to the space between my legs, which was totally unfortunate, because this guy was a Grade A prick—something my body didn’t give two figs about.

“You know what you can do with those panties?”

Yes, go on. Please tell me what to do with those panties.
I mentally side-eyed myself. This was sick. Why was I listening? And yet, here I was, leaning in toward the door, waiting to hear what he’d say next. I didn’t know what this said about me but, at this point, I didn’t really care.

“You can go shove them up Dwayne’s ass.”

Something slammed against a solid surface, most likely his phone.

Yikes. I didn’t know what this Dwayne dude did, but panties up the butt didn’t sound like BFF status. This guy had a lot of inner Hulk rage going on, something my therapist, Dr. Ahrendt, told me I should stay away from. Smart woman. I almost turned around and walked out, but realized I still had to get my purse, which happened to be in my locker in the break room. Right by Ryan. Great.

I shook my head. There was no need to be freaked out. He didn’t know that I’d heard part of his conversation. How his smooth voice rolled over the word
panties
and ignited a liquid heat in my core. Ugh, I was way worse off than I thought if I was letting this guy get under my skin.
Just get in there, get your purse, and leave.
No big deal. I took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

Ryan had his head down on the table when I entered. He looked so vulnerable and pained just sitting there, I almost felt sorry for him. Obviously, whoever he was talking to on the phone had done a number on him. I cleared my throat, and he sat up quickly, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Taking another break, princess?”

I sucked in my cheeks and pushed back my need to tell him to eff off. “Go ahead, call me that one more time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your name was Gem Stones, right?”

Should I even give him the satisfaction of saying my name again, even though he already knew it? Nope. “You are so mature. I bet red-panty girl ate that shit right up.”

Before he could answer, I grabbed my purse from my locker and booked it out of the break room. For someone so hot, he was such a jerk. Wait till Payton heard about this.

I was still fuming when I got home, so I decided to change the oil in my car. And detail the interior. By the time I’d finished, my dash came pretty close to showing my reflection, and my annoyance had moved from wanting to cut someone to insanely peeved.

Storming into the apartment, I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, grumbling under my breath.

“Should I even ask how your day went?” Payton plucked a chocolate-covered coffee bean from a plastic bag on the living room table and plopped it in her mouth.

I dried my hands, slammed the towel on the kitchen counter with an ungratifying
thud
, and stomped into the living room. “Don’t even get me started. This guy—he’s a dick. He called me a princess! Gem Stones! Then he proceeded to tell me I wasn’t attractive enough to be a stripper.”

Payton’s brows furrowed. “He what?” She shook her head and said, “Prick.”

“I know, right? He was lucky I didn’t stick my stiletto heel up his ass.”

She giggled and tossed me the bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans.

“Here. I think you need these more than me.”

I popped one in my mouth and slumped back into the sofa. “I don’t know what was worse—being told I don’t have the calling for the pole or using those stupid store slogans that are chock-f of innuendos.” I moved off the couch to grab my package of Oreos from the cupboard. This day called for two types of chocolate. “I mean, seriously, ‘
I hope I fulfilled your every office supply need
?’ What next?
Let me unjam your stapler
?”

Payton snorted. “Or how about
: Can you punch my hole
?”

“
Do you need your paper reamed?
”

She raised a conspiratorial brow. “I bet some of your customers might ask for that.”

I chucked a coffee bean at her. “Perv.”

I was about to say another corny line when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I rolled my eyes when I read the number on the screen. “I have to take it. Parental unit check-in.”

She nodded and went back to studying a running mag that came in the mail yesterday. I hit the accept call button and locked myself in my room, ready for the daily mental probing.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Juliette. How are you today?” Since I’d gotten out of rehab, Mom and I had this awkward dance, always skirting around the real reason for her call. Instead, she’d ask me about my day or about school. It wouldn’t bother me if there wasn’t a personal agenda behind it.

Really I just wanted to say,
Come on, Mom. Ask me what you really want to know.

Even if I’d get some short-term satisfaction out of saying a smart remark like that, I knew that snark wasn’t the way to go. If I wanted them to start treating me like an adult, the way I deserved, I needed to show them that I could act like one, at least when I talked to them. I didn’t know how people over eighteen were considered adults, because at twenty-two, I had no clue what the heck I was doing, like I was playing a game of house, one where I didn’t quite fit any role.

“I’m good. Worked. The usual.”

“That’s nice, honey.” Mom’s code for
I don’t give a crap.
After a long pause, she said, “Have you been studying for your classes next semester?”

“Mom. Classes don’t start for two months, I’m on break, so, no.”

“Isn’t Payton studying?”

“Yes, but she’s insane.” The girl didn’t know how to
not
study. She had two modes—reading or groping her boyfriend.

“Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.”

Maybe I could. She was dead set on being a doctor, no hesitation whatsoever, whereas I second-guessed my decisions every time I signed up for classes at the beginning of each term. When I suggested that I wanted to explore other options to Mom, namely athletic training, she scoffed and told me I might as well have a degree made of toilet paper. So, here I was, on my way to being a doctor, following in her footsteps, the safe choice. “Were you calling about anything else?”

“I heard from Eric today.” Eric—my lowlife meth-cooking older brother. The one who sent my parents into a tailspin of helicopter parenting a few years back. “Did you know it’ll be five years this Sunday? He’s come a long way.”

La de freakin’ da. He didn’t have to deal with Mom and Dad’s total meltdown when he went to jail. The raid happened on my fifteenth birthday. Mom got the call, ordered all my friends to leave the most epic pool party of the summer, and we drove to the precinct to bail him out. My dad held my mom as she sobbed, my brother still strung out of his mind, yelling profanities at anyone who passed by. I sat on the bench, hugging my knees to my chest, my hair still dripping wet from the pool, caught between hoping he was okay and wishing he’d disappear. After Mom and Dad bailed him out, he continued to use drugs up until the trial that sentenced him to ten years for distribution. Seeing what that did to my parents, I never wanted them to go through that again. But the harder I tried, the less impressed they seemed.

I picked at my nails, biting back my irritation. She brought up Eric for one reason only— her passive-aggressive way of telling me to keep it together or I’d end up like him. She thought I was well on my way. “That’s nice.”

“Hopefully he’ll be able to hold a job when he gets out. Hasn’t held one since he was eighteen. Drugs do that to you, make you weak.”

I sighed into the phone. This conversation was a goner. We’d just run in circles until she sufficiently made me feel like dog poop on the bottom of her shoe. I heard Caesar, my mom’s hellion Pomeranian, yip in the background, agreeing with her. Stupid mangy rodent dog. I pulled a Payton and glared at her through the phone. My roommate had the most epic glare I’d ever seen, one that brought her six-foot hunkalicious boyfriend to his knees. “Yep. Good thing I don’t do drugs.”

I could see her now, pursing her lips, like she always did when I defended myself. My breath rushed out as I gripped the phone until it cut into my fingers, fighting to keep calm. She just wouldn’t drop me going into rehab, even months later.

It happened so quickly. It started with a few pills to help me stay awake to study for the MCAT, my boss working me too many hours that cut into my study time and, before I knew it, I was willing to shell over my wages from GNC for any pill I could get my hands on just to stay on top of everything. I wanted to tell my mom this, so that she’d understand I wasn’t like Eric but, whenever I tried, she got this glazed-over look like she didn’t care so eventually I stopped.

“Good thing. Have a good night, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I didn’t know if I would ever get my relationship back, the one where they trusted me, were proud of me, and talked to patients about their daughter who got accepted to med school. Even after six months of being clean, I still hadn’t earned their trust. Maybe I never would.

Chapter Six

Ryan

Dad called me in for the evening shift on Wednesday, one of the busiest nights of the week. Jules flitted around, helping a customer with printers when I strolled through the front entrance. My stomach shot straight toward the ground when she smiled at a customer, her pretty pink lips parting to reveal toothpaste-ad-worthy teeth that lit up her face. Fuck me. I shouldn’t want this girl, but something deep inside me, some primal need shouted
Me Ryan, me want hot blonde in green Office Jax shirt.

After Lex, I sure as hell didn’t want anything serious, but she might be a great distraction for the ache in my chest. Hard to have a hookup when the girl hated my guts, though. The feeling was probably amplified when she apparently heard my conversation with Lex. Peach’s
click-clacking
heels came to a halt outside the break room and I knew I’d been busted. But she couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation—the one where Lex tried to justify sleeping with Dwayne because I said I didn’t know what I wanted from our future. Lex couldn’t get it through her head that uncertainty didn’t warrant sucking another guy’s cock. A few good nights with Peach and I’d get out of this breakup slump.

As that stupid article said, I needed to find common ground, because I was determined to find out if Peach’s lip gloss tasted like cherry or strawberry, which I’d spent last night debating. My guess: cherry. I held back a groan as I imagined those glossed lips working their way over skin straight to my—okay, not going there when I was out in the middle of the service floor, these Dockers giving little protection if I started sporting a stiffy.

I made my way to the back and started packing reams of paper when I noticed a dolly leaning against the far wall. Was that there yesterday? No way in hell I missed that. I had searched for one last night and came up empty, having to make a few dozen trips back and forth carrying stacks of paper.

Dad strolled in the back as I got the dolly. I pointed to it and said, “Was this here yesterday?”

He gave his classic
fuck you
smirk. “The whole time.”

No way. I know I checked.

I pointed to it again. “Right here? In this exact spot?”

He shrugged. “It may have been in the storage room.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that when my arms were on fire?” I got it, he was pissed, his money was down the shitter, but if he could just cut me a little slack, I’d show him I wasn’t completely inept.

“You didn’t ask.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.” I’d give anything to be out on a boat right now, the wind and water drowning out my thoughts. Ever since Dad signed me up for sailing lessons when I was ten, the ocean had been my go-to place. A few hours on the water calmed my nerves, leveled me out.

He gave a low chuckle and strode out to the main floor. I clutched the dolly, working to keep my cool. The faster I got out of this store, this town, the better. I’d prove to him I wasn’t a screw-up. Plenty of smart people didn’t make it through college. Granted, most of them were exceptionally gifted in other aspects, but it proved not finishing college wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe the police academy wasn’t my top choice, but I wasn’t going to sit around playing video games in my dad’s basement until I was forty while still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to make good use of that career book in the meantime but wasn’t holding my breath. Sure, I’d love to find something I was good at, but I needed to quit this overused
I don’t know
mantra
.

As I pushed the dolly to the front, I took a long look at Peach as she messed with something in the printer section. Her black painted-on pants hugged every curve. She bent over to grab ink out of a display case, her shirt gaping open just enough to see the top of her lacy pink bra, her breasts spilling over the top. I quickly looked away, not wanting to openly check her out at work. As if Dad’s fucked up music station read my mind, Mariah Carey’s “Heartbreaker” boomed through the stereo system. I shuddered at the fact that I knew this song. Over the past six summers, Office Jax played the same loop of songs over and over. And over.

I stole another glance her way, Jules now standing straight, the outline of the bra pushing against the fabric of her shirt.

My cock twitched as I imagined her selling ink in just that pink bra and those ridiculously impractical heels.
Come fill my ink cartridge, Ryan,
she’d whisper in a husky voice.

I should punch myself. I was clearly deprived if my mind had turned into some cheesy eighties porno.

She looked up, and I quickly diverted my gaze to the paper display. What was with me? Normally, I was a lot smoother with girls. Peach had caught me checking her out at least twice now. Something about her, though—it’s like I was compelled to stare, which sounded really creepy to admit.

She walked over to the endcap, sucking in her cheeks and leveling me with a condescending raised brow. Some sick part of me got off on seeing her glare, let me know I was getting under her skin, which was probably the opposite of what I needed to do if I wanted to hook up with her. To my surprise, she smiled back, her cherry-red lips showcasing her Clorox-white teeth. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what move to make next. I’d severely underestimated her tolerance for assholes if she beat me at my own game.

Leaning up against the side of the display, she crossed one ankle over the other and studied her nails. “You’re on time today.”

“Are you the warden in this place now? I thought that circle of hell was reserved for my dad.”

“A concerned citizen.”

Common ground.
What better topic than my dad?

“It’s appreciated. Warden Jack is looking for any excuse to add to my life sentence.”

She giggled, keeping her eyes trained on her nails. The same shade as that damn pink bra. Which I should stop thinking about. “How long are you in town?”

“Already trying to get rid of me?” I smiled. Damn. I was more than a little rusty if this was my finer attempt at flirting.

She looked up at me, her crystal blue eyes glistening in the florescent lighting. “Maybe. I’m bad luck. You heard what happened to Mike.”

I scoffed. “You give yourself too much credit. That was too many cheeseburgers at In-N- Out.”

She giggled, the sound a sweet distraction from the mundane paper task. One that I wanted to hear over the intercom rather than the nineties pop station Dad said would feed into customers’ nostalgia, making them buy more products. Listening to Hanson didn’t make me want to buy pens; it made me want to scratch my eyes out with a rusty spoon.

“Today’s Wednesday. Guess that means it’s asshole day. Give me your best shot.” She scrunched her nose and motioned with her fingers to bring it on.

“I decided I’d put it on hold for today.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes.

Or indefinitely if you keep chewing on your lip like that.

“Don’t let it bleed into Compliment Thursday.”

I bumped her in the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dad walked up beside us, clipboard in hand, looking especially impatient. “Ryan, I’ll need you to continue stocking the endcap. Jules, can you restock ink? We’re low on Epson.”

Jules straightened and clasped her hands behind her back. “Sure thing.”

She sauntered to the printer section, her hips swaying a little more than they had the other day. She looked over her shoulder, catching me in the act of blatantly checking her out. I expected a scowl, or at least a dirty look. Instead she smirked, raising her brow, asking a silent
like what you see?

Yes, Peach, I do like what I see
—
cute
and
sexy
.

And I was one step closer to tasting those glossy bow lips.

Small businesses sucked in the sense that everything was the owner’s responsibility, stock and delivery included. Dad hadn’t expanded enough that we could pay a delivery service to ship directly to customers. That was his job, usually, but during busy seasons, that responsibility went to his favorite minion…me.

Dad glanced over the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “I need you to run this shipment up to Howard Fern today.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The fifteenth text this morning. I pulled it out of my pocket and swiped my thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Lex. Again.

I clicked out of the message and swallowed past the tightness in my throat.

She wasn’t always heartless—the beginning was great. Lots of laughs, cuddling on the couch, and she made the best chocolate chip cookies I’d ever tasted—besides my grandma’s. But as soon as we hit the year mark, everything went downhill. If I took my head out of my ass, I probably would have been able to tell she was more into my roommate than me.

Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry.”

“You and that damn phone.” He shook his head. “If you spent as much time studying as you did texting, you’d be well on your way to graduating. For Christ’s sake, you had one more year.”

I shook my head, staring down at the floor. Making me feel like a dipshit wasn’t going to get me any closer to having my name printed on a college degree. “I know. Sorry.”

He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “If this is going to be your job for the summer, or maybe your career, you need to take it seriously. Take the company truck and bring Jules along to help.”

Hell would freeze over before this was my career. He kept pushing this on me, didn’t think I should join Uncle Gary in the police force. Being stuck indoors all day in the suffocating recirculated air? I’d die a slow and torturous death, Britney Spears on the speakers pushing me over the edge of insanity, if this was my end goal. I got it, he was proud of the store, building it from the ground up, but the apple fell ten miles from the tree in terms of career aspirations.

I focused back on what he’d said about the shipment. “This isn’t a two person job.” I didn’t need Jules to help me with three crates of paper.

“Company rules, Ryan. Always two people—one and it’s a liability.”

I nodded and grabbed the slip of paper from his hand, the address scribbled in illegible print.

I was just about to exit Dad’s office when he piped up. “Son?”

“Yeah?”

His intense gaze turned my marrow to ice. “Be nice to her. I saw how you treated her on Monday. That’s not how I raised you.” He lifted a brow, waiting for a response.

I nodded. He knew how to go straight for the nads. Not one of my finer moments and, of course, he had to see. Smoothing a hand through his frosted tips, he dismissed me.

I walked out of his office, out to the Customer Service counter, where Peach was helping a customer. She saw me and flashed a bright smile. Dad seemed to think I was bad news, but being nice got me steamrolled by Lex. Not anymore. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s doormat. I looked over at Jules again. This summer would be just what I needed before I started the academy: fun.

Fifteen minutes later, we loaded crates into the company truck and made our way to Howard Fern’s house.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye as Jules knocked her head back into the seat and sighed.

“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked, holding her phone up. “My phone doesn’t have service in these hills. Does yours?”

“I think it’s off of Farmington Road. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” I shifted in my seat to grab my phone out of my back pocket, a little
X
over the reception icon when the screen lit up. “No service for me, either.” The back roads of Spring Hill sometimes got confusing, twists and turns everywhere, but I was sure we’d find his house.

She glanced around at the barren landscape, not even a building within view, her eyebrows scrunching together. “Should we go back?”

I purposely kept my eyes trained on the road, not chancing a glance over at her. Jules was a tough one to crack. She didn’t act like all the other girls I’d gone after who’d shown interest immediately (not a huge surprise since I was a total tool to her when we first met). If I wanted to get with her, I needed to play it cool.

“Nah, we’ll be fine.”

Forty minutes later I was eating my words. The gas needle teased the eighth-of-a-tank line and I had no clue in hell where we were on this old country road. To Peach’s credit, she didn’t once give a smartass remark about how we were lost but, as we drove deeper into the boonies, I knew I had royally screwed up.

The smell of motor oil, old fried food, and worn truck made my stomach churn. Added to the massive book hangover from last night, taking every aptitude test in that damn text—which didn’t tell me much more than I liked being outdoors—this day was going down the shitter pretty fast.

She let out a sigh as we passed a herd of cows grazing in a pasture. “Why don’t we stop somewhere and ask for directions?” There was a slight annoyance twisting in her voice.

“Just five more minutes. If we can’t find it by then, we’ll stop somewhere.”

“But that little convenience store was the only thing I’ve seen for a couple miles.”

I didn’t want to admit she was right. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was finding my way out of this, but now that she was so adamant I was wrong, I was determined to prove otherwise. I needed to feel like I could so something right today, even something as trivial as finding our way out of the boonies. “We’ll find it.”

“I don’t think you could find it even if you had a map with a big
X
marking the spot,” she muttered.

I raised my brow. “I assure you, I can find
the
spot.”

“Would you even know what to do with it if you found
it?”

I turned to her and said, “I can give you a demonstration.”

A pink flush filled her cheeks, and she smoothed her finger along the earrings that climbed up her lobe.

Just as she was about to answer, a loud pop came from the engine, and smoke began to pour from the front of the truck, clouding my view of the road. “Shit.” I pulled over and cut the engine. I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Dad would go absolutely apeshit if I needed the truck towed.