Death is My BFF (The Death Chronicles Book 1)

The following afternoon, I had to work a booth for charity at my local town carnival. A big-shot billionaire had sponsored various carnivals this year to keep them open for the entire month of October, all to encourage donations. The Pleasant Valley Community Outreach Committee required a certain amount of hours to remain a member, so I let them rope me into the job last minute. Normally I’d be okay with this sort of thing. I loved volunteering my time—when I didn’t have a Mount Everest pile of homework stacked on my bed.

When they mentioned all volunteers got let out of school early, a free T-shirt, and a jumbo bag of popcorn, I caved.

Everyone and their mother was at this carnival today, except for poor Marcy, who had to attend tutoring and then babysit her neighbor’s conniving Dennis the Menace brat of a kid.

I worked the dorky drink booth, shaped like a neon-purple lemonade cup with a straw hanging out of it. Between tending to customers, there was controlled chaos around me. Loud upbeat music accompanied by the occasional happy scream piercing the air.

Bright neon colors, swirling rides, a rainbow of prizes. And the best part: the yummy aroma of funnel cake, kettle corn, pizza, and hot dogs that filled the air.

Suddenly, a large black bird landed on the counter in front of me, snapping me away from people-watching. The crow, or whatever it was, sat there cawing in its deep, raspy voice. When shooing it didn’t work, I whipped the towel off my shoulder and swatted at the counter with a smack, which spooked it into flying away.

A sharp wind kicked up my ponytail.

“One large lemonade. Seven sugars.” My head snapped up at the deep voice, meeting the black aviators of the devil himself.

We spoke at the same time.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Not a bird lover I see.”

David Star chuckled.

I shot him a long, dry look. “Really?” I made a show of aggressively grabbing a stack of plastic containers from a cardboard box and slammed them down on the counter to refill the cup holder.

“What are you doing here, David?”

His mouth curved into a wry smile. “I’m thirsty.”

I adjusted my baseball cap and wiped down a tiny spill on the counter with my towel. It was all I could do to hide my total shock at seeing him. “There are plenty of other drink stands here,” I pointed out.

“But I want a lemonade.” When he saw I wasn’t making a move to start his drink, David crossed his tanned arms, inspecting me with an amused expression. My eyes drew to his broad chest as the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscles. We both happened to be wearing baseball caps, but where he looked alluring with his plain white T-shirt and ripped medium wash jeans, I felt reclusive with my all-black funeral ensemble.

Lord, if you’re listening, please smite this gorgeous man with a monster pimple.

“Have I come to the wrong place?” David inquired, interrupting my ogling and spiteful thoughts.

I crossed my arms, mirroring his position. “You drove all the way out here because you wanted a lemonade?”

“I’m here on a date.”

I couldn’t ignore the small flick of jealousy within me. “How much did you pay her?”

“Shots fired.” David tracked me like a hawk as I moved across the counter to crush the ice for his drink.

“Volunteering?” he asked. “Or is this your new career?”

“Volunteering.” I narrowed my eyes. “All proceeds from this stand go toward finding a cure for Alzheimer’s.” I set his drink on the counter, not at all apologetic when it sloshed a little onto his hand.

“That’ll be ten bucks, Mr. Star. Five, if you’re taking it to go.”

He pointed. “Sign says three dollars.”

“Oh, you mean this chalkboard?” I took a piece of chalk out of my apron, erased the current price with the back of my hand, and wrote in fifteen dollars. “It says fifteen, actually.”

David bit back a smile and produced a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet.

“Why are you here, David?”

He placed the money on the counter. “I came to apologize.”

“What a waste of gas.”

“I have to disagree.” He leaned on the counter, closer to me.

“Even if you don’t forgive me, seeing you in person was well worth the drive.”

“How’d you know where I was?” I asked. “Did you plant a GPS on me?”

“My father and I are sponsoring the carnival. For business reasons, I had to give the directors my email. Now I’m getting spammed with emails listing volunteers and employees. I happened to open one of the emails this morning and noticed your name at the bottom. Guess it was fate.”

“Ill-fated,” I mused as I shoved the fifty into the register and started to count change.

“Keep it, Faith, it’s for charity,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I was a jerk yesterday. You were a fighter, and I wanted to see if you could go the distance. I’ll admit I was having a little too much fun teasing you.”

David reached over and shut the register drawer I was distracting myself with, forcing my eyes to meet his black sunglasses. “Faith, I want you to know I’m . . . ” His face screwed up, as if the words physically pained him. “I want you to know I’m . . . ”

“You’re?” I egged him on, finding this utterly pathetic. “Sorry?”

He exhaled. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Let me get this straight. You drove thirty miles to make sure I knew you were sorry? A phrase, which, you can’t even say?”

“I also wanted to update you on your car. It’s in the shop.” He scratched his jaw, although there was no stubble there. “Listen, are you free after your shift? I was hoping we could walk around, maybe grab a bite to eat.”

Seconds ticked by. Out of the goodness of my heart, I held back my laughter. “You’re asking me out now? You said you were here on a date!”

“I am, she just hasn’t said yes yet.” David’s grin was playful. “It doesn’t need to be a date. We could just talk.”

I imagined if my eyebrows scaled any higher up my forehead they’d disappear into my hairline like a cartoon. David Star, the celebrity, Greek god, and asshat, had asked me out on a date.

“And you’re . . . serious?”

“Absolutely.”

All I wanted to do was tell this man to go pound salt, but he sounded genuine, and it threw me off.

Sigh. I’d have to restrain my inner bitch and let him down easy.

“I don’t think a date is a good idea, David.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

Why not! He has to be messing with you again. Gritting my teeth together, I chose my next words carefully. “I appreciate you coming all this way to apologize, but the things you said to me were unacceptable. Sorry or no sorry.”

I started to busy myself, hoping David would get the hint, when he reached out and caught my hand in his. I froze. “You’re right, my behavior was unacceptable. It annoyed me how you blew me off at the party, and I let my ego get in the way. I went too far. But I’m not a bad guy. Let me prove it to you. We’ll grab something to eat, and if you feel uncomfortable at any moment, I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

My pulse rebounded faster and faster off his palm. “Why are you being so persistent?”

“I have a feeling you’re worth it.”

Despite my pride, I’ll admit a small part of me felt flattered, and my skin warmed.

The evil bird from earlier flew up to my face and hovered there with outstretched wings. Jumping back with a high-pitched scream, I knocked over a container of straws, and then hit the ground with my hands over my head.

“Whoa!” David swung his long legs over the counter and the booth became ten times smaller. “I got it. Stay down.”

After a few failed attempts to swat it away, David grabbed my clipboard and hit the bird square on. It darted out of the booth and flew away seemingly unharmed.

Our eyes connected.

“You okay?” he asked.

“What the hell is wrong with that bird?”

“No clue, that thing was out for blood.” A stack of cups tumbled over in the booth. Startled, David armed himself again with the clipboard, as if he expected a swarm of birds to follow, and I lost it.

I convulsed in laughter. As he watched, he lowered his arms and his stare intensified behind his sunglasses.

Standing this close, heat radiated from his clothes. I was painfully aware of how delicious he smelled too. I wanted to lean into him and press my nose into his chest . . . WTF? Stop it. Bad. Flustered, I drew my fingers away from his and retreated, bending down to pick up the straws.

David crouched down to help. His heat. His scent. He was so close. Nervousness crashed into my chest and rattled my heart.

“Thanks for saving me from the crow,” I muttered, as we stuffed the final few wrapped straws into the container.

“Raven,” David said. “At least, I think it was a raven. They’re larger than crows. And anytime.” He grabbed the container and we rose to our feet together.

“Should I wait around until your shift is over?” he asked.

I looked up at his aviators, wishing I could see the expression in his eyes. For a split second, I wondered if he liked me after all, which led to more conflict. Everyone knew David Star only dated supermodels, and I was no supermodel.

“Is this all about the car accident?” I queried, in a final attempt to get any ill intentions out into the open. “Did your father tell you to apologize to me so I wouldn’t leak to the press?”

“No, I came here on my own.” He held his arms out, exposing himself to me. “Listen, if you want to beat me up instead of hanging out, I understand. You might hurt your hands on my muscles, though . . . ” He stretched his arms wider, grinning ear to ear. “Hit me!” Now he’d earned the concerned stares of people walking by.

I wiped a hand across my own mouth to hide my amusement.

My morals must have been on intermission because I couldn’t say no to him anymore. Reaching out, I pushed his arms down to his sides.

“You’re ridiculous, and I get off at five.”

His smile was now warm and infectious. “Five it is. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“Always keep your promises, David.” I repeated his own words at the D&S Tower.

He bent down, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, his lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “And never lie.” Then he turned and vaulted over the counter before melting into the crowd.