“Nothing has changed. You’re in the club, all warm and toasty, while no one couldn’t care less I’m not there! I’m gonna die in this cart, and they’ll find my frozen bones after the New Year! Bitch played me for a fool for free babysitting and so Reaper didn’t have to work here anymore. What lame-ass would fall for that ball of shit? Me! That’s who! When I get out of here, I’m going to find Reaper, and I’m going to kiss his brains out. Then I’m going to Ohio and get fucking laid! Motherfuckin—”
“Need some help?”
Jewell froze under the popcorn. Raising her arms, she then swept the popcorn away so she could look up.
Staring down at her was a man she had never seen before.
“We’re closed. Get out,” she snapped.
“Looks like you could use some help climbing out of there.” Raising a hand, the intruder stopped the circle cylinder from swinging around like a kamikaze on crack. “Your dispenser seems broken.”
Jewell snarled up at him, “No shit, Sherlock.”
“The name isn’t Sherlock. It’s Rory. What’s yours?”
“Get lost.” Pulling her legs up so the heels of her feet touched the bottom of the mail bin, she grabbed the sides to pull herself into a standing position. When she tried to raise herself, the cart started rolling sideways. The stranger moved closer to keep it still.
“The wheels aren’t locked.”
Did the dude have a death wish?
Glaring, Jewell swung a leg over the cart, denying his outstretched hand.
“Someone’s having a bad day.” Dropping his hand, he gave her a cheerful smile, which only heightened her misplaced frustration.
Why was everyone else in a good mood but her? Because you’re so busy making everyone’s life easier that you’ve forgotten how to take care of numero uno!
Pulling down her tight, red T-shirt that had ridden up her stomach, she shook the popcorn peanuts out of her hair while glaring at the man smiling at her like he was enjoying every moment of her embarrassment.
Narrowing her eyes on the hazel gaze taking in what she was doing, she brusquely brushed past him to the metal door. Pressing down on the metal bar, she swung the door open.
“Sorry you wasted a trip here. We won’t be open until after the New Year, if you’re here to put in an application or buy something. We take applications and orders on our website.”
Shoving his hands into the back pocket of his jeans, he rocked back and forth on his heels. The dude seemed unfazed by her literally showing him the fucking door.
Seriously? Jewell was no sixteen-year-old naïve girl. There wasn’t a trick she didn’t know that males played to attract sexual interest toward them.
Rocking back and forth in his black snow boots drew her gaze to the long legs in black jeans. The black wool coat he was wearing came to his hips, where the jeans clung to him in all the right places. A black beanie allowed her to see his dark-brown hair at the curve of his neck. Overall, the dude might be attractive—maybe even hot, she reluctantly admitted; probably would have given him a second glance if she didn’t belong to a club with a large number of men who were just as attractive. He was practically showcasing his package behind the tight fit of his black jeans.
Jewell didn’t doubt for a second that he was keenly aware of his rugged good looks. The shadow of a beard closely followed the line of his strong jawline, and his eyebrows over assessing hazel eyes seemed just a little too smooth, as well as the tolerance he was using to combat her temper.
Far from being discouraged by her antagonistic attitude, the dude’s smile deepened, as if he was used to dealing with temper tantrums from the opposite sex. It was a quality that Rider and Train shared, being able to put the female members in a better mood when they were in a bad one. This stranger was used to dealing with women, and from his behavior, he had dealt with a lot of them.
“I’m here to see Shade.”
That he was here to see Shade didn’t lessen her desire to get rid of him. Visitors routinely stopped by to see Shade for a variety of reasons—jobs, becoming a Last Rider, or attempting to sell merchandise that could fit in with the survival items they sold at the factory. She was used to regularly fielding many of those visitors who tried to bypass getting an appointment.
“Like I explained, Shade won’t be back at work until the New Year. You can call then and make an appointment to speak with him.”
“King didn’t mention I would need an appointment when he sent me here.”
Her lips tightened in frustration. He was seriously getting on her last nerve.
“You could have mentioned King sent you,” she snapped.