My jaw clenched as I met my sister's stare for the first time since Bar Girl Addison had stepped into the room. "Chloe is my kid, and I will hire who I want to hire, got me?"

Lia rolled her eyes and pressed one hand to her hip and the other to her chest as she ripped into me.

I tuned her out because I couldn't listen when my greedy mind needed another look at the beauty by the door. There I found her-slipping on a pink coat, her long, black ponytail falling down the middle of her back. My chest grew hot, watching as she pulled on a pair of fingerless, pink gloves. She tugged the sleeves of her coat down over the tops of the gloves and muttered something under her breath, all the while captivating me with her movements.

As much as I wanted to stop her, I knew it wouldn't be for the right reasons. Addison was an obvious hazard. The last thing I needed right then was to hire her as Chloe's nanny, especially when all I wanted was get her in my bed.

Addison Mortification hit me hard as I fled Number Six's house. There was no way I would've shown up tonight if I'd known he was the potential employer.

Fate must have had it in for me. What had I ever done to deserve the bad hand that life constantly dealt me? As a kid, I'd gotten baptized. I'd always gone to church and done my homework, community work, and such throughout the years. Went to college, was a good friend to anyone who needed me. Granted, I'd made my fair share of bad choices in life, but not on purpose. And, really, who didn't make mistakes?

"Whoa there." Strong hands grasped my upper arms, halting me as my feet slid along the sidewalk, preventing a collision.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." I blinked and looked up. In front of me stood a familiar, hulking beast of a man. The Duhamel-Tatum look-alike, Gavin.

"I know you." He took a step back, tapping a finger against his lips. "Collin's bar girl, right?"

My face grew warm. Part two of my mortification for the night-I wasn't anyone's girl, least of all this Collin guy's.

"Nope. But I recognize you from the bar too. Good to see you and all, but I've gotta head home." And as far away from this house as I can get.

Refusing to acknowledge anything other than my Volvo sitting parallel to the curb, I dipped my chin and took off.

"You messed with his head," he called after me, his cold voice thick with animosity. "Nobody does that."

I froze like a deer in headlights, my hand hovering over the door handle. The smart thing to do would be to ignore him and find not only a new job, but also a new coffeehouse to visit. Avoid all things Number Six and his family, as well as his friends. Still, something about this Gavin guy's words gave me pause. Made me wonder in a way I couldn't help. Because, again, curiosity. "What were you doing inside my house?" He walked toward me, his eyes slit in accusation.

"Doesn't matter what I was doing." I blinked twice, going for uncaring but coming across as paranoid, I'm sure.

Gavin stood on the other side of my car and settled his elbows on the roof. "I think it does. This is my house."

My lips pursed. "For your information, I was invited by Lia. She told me there was a potential job for me here, but it's not going to work out."

"Huh." He tapped his fingers against the metal, the sound like the heavy pitter-patter of rain. "Why's that?"

Was it any of this guy's business? I think not. But, again, what did it matter anyway? It's not like I was going to be seeing him again.

"Because said employer seems to think I'm not right for the job." Which was just a theory, but the only one I had.

Truth was, I thought my asshattery the other night at the bar was why he turned me away. Taking off on the two of them after they'd helped me out. It's just that I'd been overwhelmed by Kenna's drunken state and my own bad week. Add the fact that my unfamiliar attraction to Number Six was chart-topping, and I was screwed with a capital S.

"Then good riddance to you."

"You don't even know me."

One half of his mouth tipped up into a sly grin. "I know enough."

"Enlighten me then, please?" I sucked in my cheek, biting down on the inside.

"You're not a fighter. You run when something scares you. Shows me enough."

"I don't run."

"Aren't you doing it now?" He backed away, laughing.

"I'm not running." Hell, if anything, I was simply trying to escape the crazy of all these men-this entire group of people, in fact.

Okay, fine. I was running. That didn't mean I liked to be called out on it.

"You are." He shrugged. "And if you get scared easily, you've got baggage, and what my family inside there does not need"-he jabbed his thumb behind him toward the house-"is some chick with issues hanging around."

My lips parted in shock. Who did this guy think he was? "I..." I had no words. No retaliation fit for human ears at least.

"Now do yourself a solid and leave."

Well, then. "Asshole."

And with what little snark I had left in me, I did what any respectable woman would do. I flipped him off and then got in my car and left.

Screw it. I didn't need the headache of dealing with these men, not when I had enough issues in my life already.

Chapter 6.

Addison I crunched the pink eviction notice in my hand, only to set it back down on the table to smooth out the wrinkles. Two days late with my rent, and I'd already been served the papers.

In simple terms, if I didn't get some money rolling in soon, I would be screwed.

The waitressing gig hadn't worked out, mainly because they needed someone with experience-experience I did not have-and my unemployment check wasn't set to come for another week.

What I needed was some seriously fast cash.

I'd beg for some leeway on the rent with my landlord today and dip into my meager savings to cover what I could, but what about next month? Or the one after that? What about paying for groceries? What about paying my water bill and my cell phone bill, along with buying gas for my car?

"Ugh." I lowered my head to my kitchen table, knocking it against the wood three times.

Before I could get too worked up, I needed to eat. Like, real food that wasn't poor man's pizza (a.k.a. bread with ketchup and melted cheese) or bread, butter, and sugar (which surprisingly filled me up longer than anything else I ate). Oh. And coffee. I desperately needed that to kick-start my day, whatever said day promised to bring.

Futilely, I hunted through my cabinets, lip pulled between my teeth. I prayed for a miracle that consisted of the coffee bean variety, yet it did no good. Annoyance revved through me as I settled my hands along the edge of the counter. Knowing I'd have to visit Java Java Hut this morning to feed my early-morning addiction was pretty much the icing on my crap-cake.

"Stupid coffeehouse."

Things would turn around soon. They had to. Someone out there in the universe owed me something other than a kick in the ass. At least I kept telling myself that as I headed out to indulge in my single necessity.

Coffee: it made everything better.

As I pulled into the parking lot, the first thing I saw was a huge truck taking up two of the three parking spaces. All fancy hubcaps, black and sleek and shiny-a rich man's vehicle. I frowned at the audacity that some people had. Wasn't one parking space enough? I wondered if I could pull a Carrie Underwood and dig my key into the side...

Woah. Bitter pre-coffee me did not like people.

I jarred open my door, fighting against the rusted hinges while secretly hoping I'd accidentally smash the edge against Fancy Pants Truck. But that idea was struck down when I realized how not so good that'd be, since I hadn't paid my car insurance in close to six months.

Brisk, cold rain stung my cheeks, and I cursed the God of Winter for taking my warm sun so soon.

The front doorbells jingled, announcing my arrival. I shook out my hood as I pulled it off my head, droplets of ice dribbling down my neck along the way. Shivering, I yanked the thing off for good before I dropped it on the table of my usual booth-the one in the corner under the picture of a steaming cup of coffee with the quote below it saying: If life gives you lemons, trade them for coffee. Wishing the sentiment was factual, I headed toward the counter, flexing and unflexing my fingers to try to warm them.

The tall guy in front of me was dressed in a black leather coat with leather gloves. He tapped his fingers against the counter as he waited for the owner, Betty, to finish his order. Part of me wondered if he was the truck driver, and I had half a mind to tell him where he could shove those hubcaps. The other part had one thing on the brain: caffeine, caffeine, caffeine. But, still, I took in his form because I had nothing better to do as I waited my turn.

He was tall-ginormously so-and something told me I didn't want to mess with him.

"You're gonna be here awhile."

"Excuse me?" I pointed my gaze toward the floor at his question, admiring his big, black boots. Motorcycle boots, not trucker's boots.

"Said you're gonna be a here awhile. They only have one espresso machine working this morning."

I shrugged, looking to avoid all things talk, even the small kind. Still, when he cleared his throat, I found myself looking up-and up-at him anyway. It was obvious he wouldn't give up on the chitchat anytime soon.

"Well, hell. If it isn't the source of all evil."

My lips parted. The source? Evil? What the hell did that mean?

His dark face, high cheekbones, and square jaw made up a picture-perfect specimen. Add his closely cut, styled black hair and midnight eyes, and it was like looking into perfection-the rugged pretty-boy kind.

"Excuse me?" And now I sounded like a parrot. Next thing I knew, I'd sprout feathers and ask him to call me Polly.

"You're the root of all the evil at my house right now."

I took a step back and then another until my back collided with a table.

So...I hadn't heard him wrong then.

He laughed, looking far too amused for having just called me evil and the source of it. Tiny wrinkles curled at the corners of his eyes.

"Um, yeah, I think I'll just wait over-"

"You don't remember me, do you?" His face softened, less amused and a little sweeter. My shoulders dropped at his change, and I didn't quite feel the need to run...at least for the moment.

He smiled so widely that his perfect, white teeth practically glowed. Was he a model?

"You're Lia's friend. I met you the other night."

Nodding once, I murmured, "I know her, yes. She works here." And was once my friend of sorts until she suddenly shared the same blood as that...

Oh.

I blinked, tipping my face to the side as recognition sank in.

Yeah. So I did know this guy-Couch Man.

I shifted my weight back and forth between my feet, wondering how I'd gotten so unlucky as to run into another person associated with Number Six. He winked and then turned to grab his coffee from Betty. Her pale-blue eyes brightened as she waved his money away.

"Any friend of Lia's is a friend of mine." She leaned over and ran her fingers along the back of his hand. I had a feeling this guy possessed hypnotic charms when it came to the ladies-even the eighty-year-old ones.

Turning my way, he motioned me toward my booth. "Think I'm going to join you."

My eyes widened. "Um..." Damn, my vocabulary was limited this morning.

"Don't try to talk me out of it, Short Stuff. I always get what I want."

My face heated. "Y-you... I mean, I..." And I was done for.

He glanced over his shoulder at Betty. "Put whatever she's drinking on my tab."

Five minutes later, I was sitting across from this ber friendly, sexy man having a conversation about nothing. Small talk-something I didn't typically do. We'd gone over the weather, followed by him asking me if I liked cream in my coffee and then if I had a boyfriend.

"I've got to hand it to you." He sipped his drink, stretching an arm over the back of the booth. "You know how to make an impression on people."

So it was time to get to the nitty-gritty-the real reason he wanted to converse with me. Most likely having to do with me being the source of evil...and Number Six.

"How so?" I cleared my throat.

"I've got one best friend who thinks you're some sort of siren in disguise, created to lure men to their doom. And the other friend thinks you are a wasted piece of space, not worthy of-"

"Just...please, stop right there." I reached for my cup. "I came to get some coffee and look through the want ads, not get scrutinized by some guy who's only met me once." I stood and glared down at the tabletop, wishing for blinders that would help me un-see things-particularly this specimen of ridiculously hot man-candy.

"Hold up now, Short Stuff." He grabbed my hand, stopping me. "You have no idea what I think of you. Aren't you a little curious?"

Jaw clenched, I met his gaze. "No. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks about me. So if you'll excuse me, I-"

"You don't trust people. I get it. Neither does Colly." He dropped my hand, folding his arms.

I arched one eyebrow at him, waiting. Ten seconds is all he'd get. And that was being generous.

He studied my face, his lip curling up on one side. "But you see, Lee-Lee said you're good people, and I trust her more than anyone else." He leaned back in his seat. "So here's the thing. I think you should come home with me today. Meet Chloe and Collin. Start fresh."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? Heard you needed a job, and this one would be perfect for you. Am I right? And I dare you not to fall in love with Chloe Bean." He grinned like a proud daddy. It was almost endearing that he seemed to love this Collin guy's daughter like his own. But even though the idea was tempting, I knew it wouldn't work out. Not when it came to Number Six. Sliding out of the booth, I fumbled through my purse, hands trembling so badly I dropped my bag. All the contents scattered across the floor and under the table. Lip gloss to tampons, anything and everything important-and humiliating-was now on display.