PHOENIX:
I was late.
Shitshitshitshit.
The sun was already halfway up the damn sky and I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet.
I scrambled up to my apartment, tripping over my work boots from last night. Threw on jeans, tank top, smudged yesterday’s eyeliner back into place and called it “grunge.” Done. Sort of.
Half a can of dry shampoo and zero dignity later, I was flying out my front door with donuts and a prayer.
I ran across the shop’s gravel lot with a spray of dust and donut boxes in hand.
“Sorry I’m late!” I shouted the second my boots hit the ground. “Overslept! But I brought donuts for everybody.”
The guys didn’t even blink. They just lined up like toddlers on sugar day at preschool.
“Bless you, Wilde,” Tank muttered with half a maple bar already in his mouth.
Mac tipped an
