Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

XANDER

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 9 A.M.

Dom taking the elevator while I take the stairs is unusual, but I don't let it throw me. We worked out a plan last night, and I need to focus on it.

Once I reach the lobby, I head for the coffee shop across the street. We have a few moments, and I need fresh air and coffee. And in this small town, the air is actually fresh. Not like Chicago with its varying scents of people, exhaust, and, on a good day, chocolate brownies as the smell wafts off Blommer Chocolate Company, the largest cocoa bean processor in North America.

The coffee shop is more crowded than I had expected. I move to the back of the line, checking my phone for the time. Dom will complain incessantly if I'm late.

Although, lately, he's just avoided me. Not like him at all. Is it something in the water? Or the air?

The line has slowed considerably, and I shift so I can see around the two girls chattering in front of me. A razor-thin woman is at the counter giving her order. "Soy milk," she says in a high-pitched voice. "No, wait…" She holds up her hand while everyone waits.

I check the clock on the wall and my anxiety shoots up at the time. I need to be at our station early to set up. To work out any issues with Dom. We cannot be eliminated today. I tap my foot, only aware I'm doing it when the girl in front of me glares.

"Oak milk," the woman finally says, and the entire line of people lets out a collective sigh. "Although…"

"Your total is seven fifty-eight." The clerk's confidence is admirable. He glances at the long line now reaching the door without even flinching.

"Thank you." As the woman walks to the pickup area, I notice the thing I missed while she was ordering. Her hat. Blue. With a chicken on the top that bounces when she walks. And they say people from Chicago are odd.

A chuckle behind me has the hair on my body standing up. I've heard that laugh before. But if I turn, who will be behind me? The angry man insinuating I've ruined his life? Or the guy who gave me—practically threw—a medallion at me? Or will it be the guy who touched the mole on my hip like he wanted to memorize it? Doesn't matter. I'm not sure I can resist any version of the man.

I turn and smile, trying to make it look normal and not creepy. Not sure how successful I am. I've practiced smiling. Still not good at it. "Erik. Good morning."

His brows narrow and I have a hint of what's to come. I steel myself for his anger. But then his gaze slides down. "You're wearing the medallion."

Heat floods my face. And I'm not sure why. This is the very reason I wore it. An acceptance of his peace offering. I raise my chin. "Thank you for giving it to me."

"I…okay." He tilts his head and lets out another laugh. "I don't get you, Cage?—"

"Xander. I hate my middle name." And I'm not that fond of my first name. Really, Mom? Couldn't you have picked an actor other than Vin Diesel?

"See, this is what I mean. You…" He waves his hand a bit, and I still don't understand what he means. "You seem different."

Different. We met two days ago, but I don't challenge his incongruency. "Is that a bad thing?"

He starts to answer and his eyes dart behind me. "The line is moving."

"Right." I advance a few feet in line and turn back. The now giggling girls are the only thing standing between me and my coffee, but I'm no longer in a hurry. I don't want this conversation to end. "Is it?" I ask again. "A bad thing that I'm different?"

"You were an asshole before, so not really."

I laugh loud enough to get everyone's attention. His wide grin is worth the embarrassment. "Glad I could exceed your expectations."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and smirks as he glances up at me. "They were pretty low."

"What would I have to do to get them higher?" I'm practically floating as I watch the dimples in his face pop out at my question. Am I flirting with him? Dom would be proud.

"I might have to think about that." Oh God. Is he flirting back? If I pull out my spreadsheet to check, would he think it weird?

Probably. Be cool, Xander .

"Next," the clerk says, and I turn quickly, almost knocking over a display. The unimpressed clerk raises a brow in question.

I fumble through my order, not even sure what I'm getting. My face feels as hot as the espresso machine. As I step out of Erik's way, he leans in, ignoring the sigh from the clerk. "Maybe we could discuss those expectations later?"

"That would be fine." Fine? Great. Perfect. Wonderful. But no, I go with fine. The guy who is nice to everyone but me is finally nice to me, and I short-circuit. I glance at the time and realize I'm going to be late. Dom is going to murder me. As soon as my coffee is ready, I'm out the door, grinning like an idiot.

Dom grabs me as soon as I enter the lobby of the conference center. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Coffee."

"Jesus, Cage."

"Xander," I correct him, but he ignores me as he pulls me toward our station. No, not our station. Did they change it again? How do they expect people to compete like this? The other weird thing? Dom is again wearing nail polish. Black-and-white stripes. He definitely wasn't wearing it this morning when we left our room.

I gather ingredients to set up, but Dom grabs my arm. "We're doing the lemon blueberry poundcake, remember?"

"We are?" At this point, my mind is barely surviving, so I go along with whatever he wants. It's just easier. Maybe it's this happy feeling I'm not used to that's messing with me. "Dom?—"

"Tor," he growls.

"Five minutes, everyone."

We aren't even close to being in sync, but we get second place. Normally, I'd be upset and pick apart every little thing we did wrong. But we aren't going home, and that's what counts.

I focus on my goals. Winning this competition and showing Mom I'm the best person to manage the restaurant.

Except that's not where my mind goes. It's on laughing brown eyes and adorable dimples.