Bad Intentions (Bad Love) Read online

  “Yeah, I don’t usually, either. It’s one of those days.”

  I nod. “I’ll take a job, though. Got one of those for me?” I’m half-joking, but if it works, it works.

  She blows out a cloud of smoke and looks over at me, eyeing me up and down.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Logan,” I say, holding out my hand, and unlike the guy next door, she shakes it. “But everyone calls me Lo.”

  “I’m Sutton. You new in town?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s gorgeous with straight jet-black hair that doesn’t quite hit her shoulders and is slightly longer in the front.

  “Yep.”

  “Are you here for good or just temporarily?”

  “For good…ish,” I answer honestly. We’ll be here until summertime at the very least. Who knows what the future holds after Jess graduates. I don’t see us going back home anytime soon.

  “We do need someone, but not if you’re going to bail in a couple weeks or a month. It’s slow now, but we’re about to hit our busy season, and we’ll need you till at least March.”

  “Sold.”

  “Do you have any experience bartending?”

  “Bartending, serving, closing, opening, cooking, hosting, bussing…you name it, I’ve done it.”

  “Can you work weekends?”

  “I can work whenever you need me.”

  “I’ll talk to my boss, but no objections to working weekends and a great rack to boot? Pretty sure you’re Jake’s dream employee. Got a number where I can reach you?”

  Sutton puts out her half-smoked cigarette then holds out her phone. I program my number before she pockets it back into the tiny apron tied around her waist.

  “Thanks. You’re the first nice person I’ve met here.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This is the calm before the storm.”

  It’s meant to be a warning, but what she doesn’t know is that this job is already a million times better than anywhere I’ve ever worked. I can tell that much without even stepping foot inside. The uniforms aren’t skimpy, for one. Black leggings and a white tee with the Blackbear logo on the right breast. Beats the last bar I worked at that required me to have my tits and ass on display for every drunk asshole to grope. I can handle the long hours and tired feet.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  * * *

  “I’VE GOTTA GET TO THE car shop before they close. You good to close tonight?” I ask Cordell, who’s finishing up on his client. It’s a weekday, so I usually stay until at least twelve. Sometimes as late as two a.m. on weekends to catch the crowds at closing time, but tonight, Cord is closing up shop for me.

  “I got it.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I pull my hood onto my head and step outside. It’s the end of October, which means two things. One, winter is coming. Two, tourists are coming. Well, it’s always tourist season here—with the lake and the river for the summer and the snow for winter sports—but December and January are notoriously brutal. Good for business. Bad for my whole not liking people thing.

  I jog over to my truck, needing to be at the shop before it closes in—I check my phone—six minutes. Fuck. I can make it, as long as I don’t hit any traffic. I fucked up my tire on a pothole, and this place is the only one in town that carries the right tires for my truck. Driving on it is sketchy, but I had to be at Bad Intentions for a twelve o’clock appointment.

  I jump in, throwing it in drive, and haul ass toward the shop. The sun is already setting over the lake, and I squint my eyes against the rays peeking through the pine trees that stab at my vision. I pull up with a minute to spare and hope that the old bastard didn’t decide to close early. Businesses here run on River’s Edge time. Which means, you can’t fucking count on anything to be open when they’re supposed to be. If they’re not busy—or if they want to pack it up and call it a day early—they can, and they will. I like money too much to run my shop like that. More than that, I know what it’s like to have none. And I don’t ever plan to go back to that life.

  The door chimes when I walk in, but it’s not Doris, the eighty-year-old smart ass that usually works the front desk that I see. It’s someone much younger and, I’ll admit, much better looking. It’s the chick from the shop earlier, and she’s standing with her arms folded across her chest, facing the door behind the desk. I can see her profile, not missing the generous curve of her ass in those tight pants, but she doesn’t notice me.

  “Well, that was fast,” I say, pushing back my hood, then tugging the beanie off my head and running a hand through my hat hair. Her head whips around, and her scowl deepens at the sight of me. So she remembers me. I’m flattered. “Found a job already?”

  “No,” is all she says. Before she turns back around, I see the tan-ish purple ring around her eye that I didn’t notice earlier. Who gave this chick a black eye?

  “Okay, then. Is Henry in?”

  “Definitely no,” she says, throwing my words from earlier back at me.

  “Touché.”

  Henry walks in from the back, wiping his perma-greased hands onto a grimy white rag.

  “I see you’ve met my daughter, Logan,” he starts, shooting me a look that says not even he knows what he got himself into.

  His daughter? Fuck.

  “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

  “Neither did he, apparently,” she mutters.

  “Don’t listen to her. I have two, but it’s been…a while since I’ve seen them.”

  “Ten years. Time just gets away from you, huh, Pops?” Logan deadpans.

  My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, my eyes bouncing between them like I’m watching a tennis match. They go back and forth for a minute before I chime in and ask about the tires. I decided to get a whole new set since I have to replace the one, and they’re getting pretty bald anyway. Henry, thankful for the interruption, lets me know that they did come in.

  “But my guy called in sick, and I’ve been all booked up, so we’ll squeeze you in first thing in the morning. What time does your place open?”

  Awesome. Note the sarcasm.

  “Noon.”

  “Since my darling daughter here helped herself to one of my vehicles, she can repay me by giving you a ride home. You can leave your truck here, and I’ll have it done by ten thirty, eleven tomorrow.”

  I almost say no. But Logan’s eyes beg me to do just that, and for some reason, I want to do the opposite. Plus, I need to get this done as soon as possible.

  My lips slowly stretch into a wide smile.

  “Deal.”

  Logan takes an angry swipe at the keys on top of the counter and storms outside.

  “My chariot awaits,” I say with a shrug.

  “Good luck,” Henry mumbles under his breath. “And try to be nice to her, will ya? She hasn’t had the easiest life. If you think she’s crazy, you should meet her mother.”

  I give him a nod and hand him my keys before turning to leave.

  I jump into the passenger side of the only other vehicle besides Henry’s and mine, but she doesn’t speak, or even look at me. I take her in, really looking at her for the first time. Long, wild, dark hair. Porcelain skin. Tiny frame. Her big, innocent, hazel eyes betray her caustic front. I haven’t spent more than five minutes with this girl, but I can already tell she’s the type of crazy I need to stay far away from. This morning, she was all sunshine and rainbows when she came into the shop, but it didn’t take much for her true colors to come out.

  “You gonna tell me where to go or…?”

  Right. She doesn’t know where I live.

  “Go left, then left at the light.”

  She does.

  We drive in silence for a long while. No music, because we can’t even get a radio station to come in clearly up here. I notice that she’s shivering with only a thin flannel to keep her warm. If she’s already this cold, she’s in for a rude awakening in another month or so.

  I lean forward to turn the heat o
n, but her fingers land on mine for a brief second, intercepting me before turning it back off.

  “Heat doesn’t work. And it smells.”

  “Might want to have your dad fix that or you’re going to need a thicker coat in a couple weeks.”

  She scoffs, like that’s out of the question, but doesn’t respond.

  “How far am I taking you? I didn’t realize this was going to be a road trip.”

  “I live outside of town. A few more miles.”

  “You live alone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not a fan of people?”

  “Nope.”

  She gives me a sidelong glance, and she’s silent for a beat. Assessing. Then she speaks.

  “It must be nice to live on your own.”

  It’s small talk, which doesn’t seem like something this girl does often. Her words are intentional. So, I play along.

  “You don’t?”

  She shakes her head. “Never have. Staying with Henry for the time being.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one,” she says defensively.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.” I’m surprised by her age, though I shouldn’t be. She looks young, but something about her feels much older.

  “My mom was never home. By the time I was old enough to move out, my brother was just starting high school, and I knew if I left, there’d be no chance of him graduating.” Logan looks over at me with wide eyes, probably hating that she just divulged so much about herself. I know that look because I have the same aversion to sharing.

  “I pissed the bed until I was twelve,” I blurt out in an attempt to even the score. Tell her something embarrassing about me to get the focus off her. And it works, because her expression goes from horrified to surprised, and then her cheeks puff out as she tries to hold back from laughing. She loses the battle and something between a laugh and a snort slips out, and even I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Why would you admit that? To anyone? Ever?”

  I shrug. I haven’t told anyone that before, for obvious reasons.

  “Turn up here,” I say, gesturing to the left with my finger. “Follow this road until you see a cabin on the right.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you lived alone,” she says, taking in the pine trees that line the narrow winding road. “You’re really secluded out here.”

  “I like my privacy.”

  “I guess so.”

  Logan pulls into my driveway, and she looks over at me as she comes to a stop. She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, and my eyes can’t help but follow the movement. She swallows, and her throat moves with the action. I have the urge to take her inside and see what those hazel eyes look like when she’s on her knees for me, what those puffy lips look like wrapped around me. But the last thing I need is to hook up with someone who isn’t just passing through, and it’s only a matter of time before she hears about me from someone in town and decides to stay far the fuck away from me. As she should.

  Instead, I force myself to open the car door and get out. I prop my forearm on the doorframe, duck my head down, and say, “See you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she questions, her eyebrows tugging together in confusion.

  “Yeah. I’ll need a ride back to the shop. Pick me up at nine.”

  “It’ll cost you,” she warns.

  “Naturally. How much?”

  “Fifty bucks.”

  “Fifty bucks,” I repeat. “I could get a fucking Uber for less than that.” She doesn’t need to know that Ubers don’t come all the way out here.

  “Take it or leave it.” She shrugs, expecting me to say no.

  “See you at nine.”

  She raises an eyebrow, surprised by the fact that I’ll actually pay her fifty dollars for a ride, I’m not sure. Maybe both.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “You never asked.”

  “Well?” she asks expectantly.

  “It’s Dare.”

  I pat the top of the rattletrap she calls a car and walk away, hearing her drive off behind me.

  Dare. That’s not a name. That’s a warning. And I’ve been with enough bad boys to heed the warning. I think. Then again, the last time I tried going for someone different—a straight-laced suit, someone who appeared to be a good guy with a good career—things got ugly. Sometimes the nicest guys have the darkest sides.

  Either way, I can’t deny that he intrigues me. He looks like he’d know his way around a woman’s body. But this is our new start. And I can’t fuck it up by hooking up with the first boy I see, even if he does have the prettiest, bluest eyes known to man and a smirk that I felt right between my thighs. This is a small town. People talk, and the last thing I need is to be labeled the town whore. I just need to keep my head down, get a job, and get Jess through school.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out, only to see Private Caller flash across the screen. Unease prickles my spine. This is a brand-new number. Eric, my ex-boss and part of the reason I left, bought my old phone. He didn’t like not being able to keep tabs on me, but I threw the phone away just before I left town. I used most of the money I had saved to buy myself a new one and added a line for Jess. They had a deal, and I ended up getting him a phone for ninety-nine cents.

  There’s no way Eric would know my number. The only people who do know it are Jess, my mom, and now Henry. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s him. It’s not like I’m afraid of Eric. He’d never physically harm me—psychological manipulation and intimidation are more his style—but the thought that he somehow got my number is…unnerving. I roll my eyes at my dramatics and shove my phone back into my pocket. There’s no way it was him. Probably a solicitor.

  “Lo?” Jess asks with a cautious lilt to his voice. “Everything okay?”

  Jess may be my kid brother, but he worries about me like a parent would. That’s what happens when your mom is a deadbeat and your dad is MIA. We are all each other has.

  “I’m good!” I say, maybe too cheerily, because he casts me a suspicious look. “How was school?” I ask around a bite of my eggs, if only to change the subject.

  Sometimes we have what I call Upside-Down Days, where we have pancakes and eggs for dinner instead of breakfast. I made it up when Jess was a little younger. It was more fun than saying, “Listen, we are too broke for real food, and all we can afford are eggs and pancake batter, if you’re lucky.” Years later, we’re still broke as shit by most people’s standards, especially at this moment, but it sort of became our thing. Even when I was working for Eric, making enough to support us and still have leftover spending money, we still had Upside-Down Days.

  Jess walks over to the sink to fill his cup with tap water before taking a drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Got head in the girls’ bathroom at lunch, so I guess you could say it was a successful first day.”

  I scrunch my nose. “What did I tell you? Play it straight, and for God’s sake, keep your pants zipped. Just for eight more months.”

  “Relax, we didn’t get caught.”

  “Yet,” I warn. “I guess I should just be glad it wasn’t the school secretary.”

  “I never said it wasn’t Lacey,” he says mischievously.

  “Jesse, I swear to God…”

  “I’m just fucking with you. It was some girl from my math class. Who called your phone a minute ago?” In true Shepherd fashion, he flips the topic back to me to take the heat off him.

  “What?” I ask, clearing my throat.

  “Was it him? Eric? Is he fucking with you again? I swear to God, if you go back to him…”

  I get his concern. Every single time he warned me about Eric, I brushed it off. At first, it was the money. He had it, and we needed it. He gave me whatever I needed. But then, it became more complicated. Lines were crossed, and morals were blurred. It wasn’t pretty, and I’m not proud, but I am done. I never want to be the person I was when I was with
Eric again.

  “Nah, I think it was one of the places I applied to earlier.”

  “Weird, because you got that same panicked look in your eyes that you get whenever that piece of shit is involved.”

  “It wasn’t him,” I say firmly. I stand abruptly, causing my chair to scape across the cheap wood flooring. “Why is it so goddamn cold in here?” I change the subject once again, pulling my shirt closed. “I gotta take a hot shower. My tits are going to freeze off.”

  Jess shakes his head, and he doesn’t believe me for a second, but he doesn’t say a word as I make my way up the steps.

  Once I peel off my clothes and stand under the scalding hot water, my mind drifts back to the hot guy with tattoos. And I allow my fantasy from earlier to run wild, in the privacy of this bathroom, because it can’t happen in real life.

  The buzzing under my pillow cuts through my dreams, forcing me into reality. I open one eye, waiting for the sleep to clear to be able to focus on the words on the screen.

  You’re late.

  Late? It’s from a local number. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up and remember that I’m supposed to pick Dare up. How the hell did he get my number? Tired eyes drag up to the time displayed in too-small numbers on the top of my screen. It’s nine twelve. Shit. Jess is late for school. I scramble out of bed and dig through my bag, only to realize I don’t have any clean jeans. Or leggings. Or underwear. Or anything, really. I really need to ask Henry if he has a washer and dryer. I haven’t seen one, and this place isn’t exactly a palace, so it doesn’t look promising.

  I have no choice but to go in what I’m wearing, which happens to be rumpled gray sleep shorts and a white tank top. I end up throwing on fuzzy striped socks that go up to my knees and Jess’ oversized hoodie that fits me like a dress. I run down the stairs and into the living room, skidding across the floor, expecting to find Jess comatose on the couch.

  Instead, I see a piece of paper on top of his pillow that reads Henry took me to school. No, you’re not being punked. He offered, and you looked tired.