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  “I think you need to take time to think about everything that happened tonight and decide the answer to that question for yourself.”

  Her lips twisted into a small smile and I felt my heart skip a beat. “Thanks. I’m sorry Craig thinks you’re such a bad guy. I don’t understand it.”

  He’d told her I was a bad guy? My hands balled into fists. “He said that? Is that why he wants you to stay away from me?”

  “Yeah, he said you were an addict and a bad guy. For whatever reason though, I didn’t believe him from the start about you.” She smiled.

  With my attitude, tattoos, and hard-around-the-edges exterior, I was surprised she hadn’t believed him. I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it. Cracking my window a little farther, I met her stare. “I’m glad you didn’t, surprised, but glad.”

  “Surprised, huh?” The playful tone to her voice sent chills along my spine, because I was so glad to hear it.

  “Definitely.”

  “Well don’t be. You’re a good guy; you just look all bad-boyish on the exterior.” She opened the door, but I stopped her by placing a hand on her knee for a moment.

  “Can I see your phone first?” Reluctantly, I released my grip on her knee and held out my hand.

  “Umm, sure.” She passed her cell to me with a questioning look.

  Dialing my number, I pressed send and called myself quickly, then handed her phone back. “There, now you’ve got my number and I’ve got yours. If he gives you any shit like that again, you call me and I’ll come take care of him. I promise.”

  Her eyes remained steadily on mine as a slow, tiny smile formed on her face. I could see something shifting in her eyes, but I had no clue as to what it meant or even what it was—relief, comfort? “Thank you.”

  She closed my car door and I watched her walk away, waiting to see if she would turn around for one last glance. She did, just as her feet hit the sidewalk, and I felt an adrenaline rush from hell just from that simple look.

  I waited until I saw her enter her apartment before I put my car in reverse and backed out of the spot we’d been sitting in. Cranking up the newest Seether song I’d downloaded the other day, I started toward Craig’s place to do what should have been done before I’d left—beat the shit out of him for what he’d done tonight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PAIGE

  A full week passed. I’d worn thick bracelets the entire time to keep the ugly bruise in the shape of Craig’s handprint hidden from everyone. Lauren had taken me back to Craig’s the day after so I could get my car, because asking Blaire would have meant answering too many questions regarding why my car had been left there and why I hadn’t spent the night like planned. I couldn’t come up with a good lie, not one she would have believed anyway. Lauren, on the other hand, was a little less pushy and easier to lie to. When I told her we’d had a spat and I’d decided to hitch a ride home with someone, she didn’t question me further. Blaire would have been an entirely different story.

  While I’d been hiding my nasty bruise, I’d also been avoiding Craig. He’d blown my phone up with text messages and phone calls the entire week, stating his behavior had been a mistake and to please give him a second chance. I couldn’t bring myself to respond or answer his phone calls. I needed time to think about what he’d done and how I felt about it. The moment with Cameron standing on the back porch were I’d thought I can’t believe this is happening, I’m not that girl had flashed through my mind a million times. Maybe my reluctance to reply was my way of proving to myself that I wasn’t that girl, because I was taking time to think things over instead of giving in and forgiving him easily. The way I saw it—I could forgive him, but I couldn’t forget. That was my problem.

  I’d managed to toss myself into creating my store to avoid thinking on the subject too much. I’d gotten the keys to the place, gone through all of my clothes—as well as Blaire and Lauren’s—and came up with a few ideas for decorating themes inside the shop. Add all of that to working at Enticing Aroma, and I felt as though my plate were a little too full. So, I’d also dropped out of school to free up some time. My parents didn’t know yet, but I figured it shouldn’t matter, because in less than four weeks, it would have happened anyway. I was merely cutting out a step to our deal early.

  “You do know you’re supposed to take a break from staring at computer screens about every one to one and a half hours, right?” Blaire flopped down on the couch beside me. “It’s for like fifteen to thirty minutes or you’ll strain your eyes.”

  I’d been sitting in the same spot, staring at my laptop for nearly three hours now, trying to figure out the program I’d found online for organizing your small business accounting crap. It had been a free program with loads of tutorials and forums, but I still couldn’t make any sense of it. I was a hopeless techy.

  “I know. God, I’ll never figure this out.” I hung my head back and moaned. “I swear I need an idiot manual for it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused in my life.”

  Blaire laughed. “What are you trying to do?”

  “Set it up.” I glanced at her. She was dressed in her scrubs, ready to head to work—something I should be doing right now. I had to be in at four for my shift at Enticing Aroma.

  “Did you download and install it properly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it is set up.”

  “No,” I groaned. “I want it to be set up with all the pretty columns labeled with stuff I know I’ll need to input stuff into.”

  “Why? You aren’t planning on opening for a while.” She grinned.

  “Because, I want this part done with.”

  Blaire patted my arm and then walked to the kitchen. “Think about your theme and prices first. Decide where you’re getting all your hangers and stuff. Heck, pick out a name for the place before you melt your brain trying to figure out the accounting aspect of it. Better yet, hire someone to do that part for you.”

  She was right. There were so many other details—major details—I needed to be worrying about first. I just wanted to start this place off on the right foot, and I figured organization was the best way to do that. Maybe I needed to be organized in other areas first though. I exited the program and shut down my laptop.

  “You’re right.” I sighed. “I have a lot of other areas to worry about first. So, are you free to help with any of those tonight? I’m calling in my two lifelines—you and Lauren. Girls’ night in? Wine, dinner, notebooks, and pens to brainstorm with?”

  She scooped her purse off the counter and grinned. “As long as it’s some good cheap wine and none of that fancy crap you get from your parents’ place. Oh, and also if there’s chocolate involved.”

  “Done and done.” I smiled.

  * * * *

  “This is exactly what I needed.” Lauren peeled the wrapper off another piece of chocolate and popped it into her mouth.

  “Me too,” Blaire agreed. “A moment to sit around in sweats, drink some wine, and eat too much chocolate.”

  Continuing to flip through the magazine I’d been looking at, I took a small sip of my wine. I’d gathered as many do-it-yourself magazines as I could find after work today, praying there would be some crafty ideas I could implement into the store myself. Saving money while fixing this place up was going to be another way to prove to my parents that I could hack this entrepreneur thing, and I was all about proving myself to them with this.

  “What about this?” I pointed to a picture of some tiny, narrow shelves someone had made out of thin wood and painted a pale blue. In the picture of the finished project, there were small knickknacks arranged on it. “It looks easy to make and cute.”

  Blaire glanced over my shoulder at the picture. “What would you use that for?”

  I crinkled my nose. “I don’t know, but I really like the worn-out, vintage look it has going on.”

  “How about for displaying earrings or rolled-up belts?” Lauren suggested while unwrapping another piece
of chocolate. “Get these things away from me. I’ll eat the entire bag if you don’t.”

  Blaire snatched the bag from her lap and grabbed a handful. “What was the layout of the shop again?”

  Leaning forward, I sifted through some papers on the coffee table and pulled out the one I’d drawn the layout on. It wasn’t the best blueprint—heck, it wasn’t even to scale—but it gave the basic idea as to what shape the store was.

  “Here.” I passed it to her.

  “You actually could put something like that right here, if this spot isn’t a goof up in your sketch of the place, that is.” Blaire grinned.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a goof up. There really is an angled wall there. Behind that is where the storage room for all of my off-season merchandise will be.”

  “You could line the area with those shelves and get rid of the glass cases against the wall. Shelves would be more chic,” Lauren suggested.

  “Good idea.” I ripped out the instructions for how to make the shelves and placed them on the coffee table.

  After flipping through a few more pages, my cell went off. I knew who was calling without having to look at the screen—Craig. He’d only called me three times today, but it was three times too many. I still wasn’t sure what to say to him after the way he’d behaved. My eyes dropped to the thick leather bracelet on my wrist. The bruises were nearly gone, but I could still picture the haunting look in his eyes and feel the emotions from the moment flicker through me when I thought about it.

  “Still not talking to him?” Blaire asked. She had that skeptical gleam in her eyes that I hated.

  “Nope, not yet.” I went back to flipping through the magazine in my lap.

  “And all of this is because he was flirting with another girl at his party last week?” she pressed.

  “Yep.” I knew she didn’t fully believe the lie, but she never questioned it as I expected either.

  “What about Paige’s Closet?” Lauren muttered. Her voice was a little slurred, and I wondered how many glasses of wine she’d consumed already.

  I grinned at her. “What about my closet?”

  “No.” She laughed. “The name of the store, what about calling it Paige’s Closet?”

  “Oh, I like it.” Blaire nodded. “And think about it, more than half of the clothes you’re putting out to open with all came from your actual closet. It seems fitting in a way.”

  I bit my bottom lip. My mind was going a mile a minute with this idea. The name could actually work. I loved it.

  “That’s it! Paige’s Closet,” I said, trying it out. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded.

  “Blaire, your at rest face looks bitchy. I think you need to read this article,” Lauren muttered out of the blue. She grabbed the bag of candy from Blaire’s lap and unwrapped another chocolate.

  “My what?” Blaire tilted her head to the side.

  “At rest face,” Lauren repeated. She tossed the magazine she’d been flipping through at Blaire. “Read it.”

  While they worried about their at rest face and if it made them come off as bitchy, I started to sketch out ideas for this whole closet theme. I truly felt as though I was on to something with this. It was hip, vintage, and fresh. I couldn’t wait to go over the ideas with my mom. First, I needed to get everything planned out perfectly, though.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CAMERON

  “You still want the same colors you said before, bro?” Bo lined up various shades of yellows, oranges, and reds along the counter.

  “Yeah.” My adrenaline spiked as the notion I was getting a finished product today sliced through my mind.

  “Show me the range you wanna go with it.” He pointed to the bottles of colors he’d displayed for me.

  I glanced at the tints of each color and pulled out three from each row. “Let’s start with the dark red and then slowly blend into this shade of red. Do the same with orange next and then the yellows.”

  “Yeah. I think that’ll work.” Bo nodded. He moved the bottles onto his little metal tray and wiped everything off with pads drenched in rubbing alcohol, before washing his hands and pulling on some gloves. “All right, assume the position.”

  “What the fuck ever.” I chuckled as I straddled the leather chair and gripped the headrest.

  “The rest of this looks good, man. It’s healing up nicely.” He swiped a cold cloth drenched in rubbing alcohol all over the tattoo to sterilize the area.

  “It’ll look even better when it’s done.” There was nothing like the rush that came with getting a tattoo—except for getting one finished. This was my first one with color and of this size. It was going to be my baby for a while.

  “Hold on, ’cause here we go.” Bo cranked up some Sevendust and got right to it.

  * * * *

  It took him nearly three hours, but the finished product was stunning. I stared at the phoenix, which would now forever be a part of me, in the long mirror Bo had behind the door of his little office. The shading was perfect, the detail to the wings and feathers amazing, and the fire exploding around it stunning. I couldn’t be happier.

  “Silence scares me, dude. Tell me your thoughts,” Bo demanded.

  “Nice.” I nodded and grinned. “Really fucking nice. I love it, man.”

  “Yes.” He tilted his head to the ceiling and did a little fist pump action. “All right, another job well done.”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Let’s get you bandaged up.” Tina grinned as she pulled on some gloves. I didn’t move as she gauzed me up, and then taped it into place. Her fingertips trailed along my ribs, and I could feel her body heat pressing against my bare back. “You’re all set.”

  I took a step away from her. This new flirty version of Tina was freaking me out. She was practically my little sister too, so nothing like what she had in mind would ever happen between us. Ever.

  Pulling my T-shirt over my head, I cast her a sideways grin. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem.” She beamed. Her hair was done up in those three big balls again, and she wore some crazy stripped stockings beneath her tutu-style skirt that reminded me of something the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz would wear.

  “How much do I owe you for today?” I shifted my attention to Bo, who was cleaning up.

  He pursed his lips together, but didn’t look at me. “I’d say the same as last time—not a damn dime—but I know you won’t go for that, so fifty bucks.” He shrugged.

  “Done.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the fifty I’d wrapped around four hundred-dollar bills earlier—knowing he would say some shit like that—and slapped it into his hand. I prayed he wouldn’t pay attention to the thickness of the bills. “Thanks, man. I’ll catch you later. I’m starved. Gotta get something to eat.”

  “All right, take care of that tat. That’s a beautiful piece of art, man.”

  “I will.” I headed down the hallway and toward the front door at a quick pace.

  “Bye, Cam. Come back and see us sometime,” Tina said as I pushed the front door open and stepped outside.

  “Will do,” I called over my shoulder. I hated to rush off and seem like a dick, but I was in desperate need of a cigarette. It had been hours. Plus, hanging around would only prolong the awkwardness between Tina and me, and I didn’t want Bo to toss my money back at me.

  After pulling my pack and lighter out of my front pocket, I grabbed one and lit it. Stepping off the curb, I closed my eyes and leaned against my car for a minute, allowing the nicotine to flow through me. My shoulder blade buzzed with heat, and the edges of the sticky tape caught on my T-shirt. The desire to peel my shirt off slithered through me, but I resisted. The night air was cool against my clammy skin. It burned my lungs and sent a cold chill along my spine. I’d cool off in a minute.

  Crickets chirped in the distance and the entire night seemed alive. It had to be after ten by now. The parking lot was deserted except for my car, Tina’s beater, Bo’s supped-up t
ruck, and some black Honda Civic parked a little farther down.

  A black Honda Civic. I knew that car. It belonged to Paige.

  My heart hammered against my chest harder than when I was dealing with the pain of getting my tattoo finished. A smile broke out on my face as I wondered what she was doing here so late. Was she already setting up things inside her little shop? I hadn’t talked to her in a while. Not since that night. I’d avoided her simply because I didn’t want to aggravate the situation between her and Craig—whatever it may be—any more than I already had. However, that didn’t mean my thumb hadn’t hovered over her name on my phone a few times this past week when the desire to know she was okay knocked around inside of me.

  I took another drag off my cigarette while I contemplated what I should do—hop in my car and leave, or walk to her shop and see how things were going.

  “Fuck it,” I muttered as my feet started moving across the parking lot on their own accord.

  The lights were on, but I couldn’t see Paige or anyone else inside. I waited, staring through the windows like a freaking peeping Tom, until I saw her walk from the back room out into the front. Reaching for the door, I pulled the handle and stepped inside.

  “Hey, long time no see.” I smiled.

  She jumped and her hand flew to her chest as her right leg hiked up to her waist as if she was about to dropkick me. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!”

  I laughed and put my hands up in front of me as if I was surrendering. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I saw your car out there and the lights on, so I wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

  Her hands dropped to her sides and I realized she’d been holding paint swatches. “Good, things are good.”

  “Trying to figure out what color to paint?” I motioned toward the strips in her hand. “Let me see what you’ve got. Maybe I can help you decide.”