Love, Lattes and Mutants

by Sandra Cox

  Cover Copy

  Like most seventeen-year-olds, Piper Dunn wants to blend in with the crowd. Having a blowhole is a definite handicap. A product of a lab-engineered mother with dolphin DNA, Piper spends her school days hiding her brilliant ocean-colored eyes and sea siren voice behind baggy clothing and ugly glasses. When Tyler, the new boy in school, zeroes in on her, ignoring every other girl vying for his attention, no one, including Piper, understands why...

  Then Piper is captured on one of her secret missions rescuing endangered sea creatures and ends up in the same test center where her mother was engineered. There she discovers she isn’t the only one of her kind. Joel is someone she doesn’t have to hide from, and she finds herself drawn to the dolph-boy who shares her secrets. Talking to him is almost as easy as escaping from the lab. Deciding which boy has captured her heart is another story...

  Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Books by Sandra Cox

  Mutant Series

  Love, Lattes and Mutants, Book One

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Love, Lattes and Mutants

  Mutants, Book One

  Author Name Goes Here

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Copyright

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 by Sandra Cox

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: February 2015

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-606-3

  eISBN-10: 1-61650-606-7

  First Print Edition: February 2015

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-607-0

  ISBN-10: 1-61650-607-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Margaret McNeely

  Chapter 1

  “Miss Dunn, are we keeping you awake?” Mr. Grumble’s sarcastic remark draws titters from the class.

  I jerk upright. “No, Mr. Grumble.” Heat floods my face.

  “Glad to hear it.” He turns back to the whiteboard and writes an equation with a red marker.

  I slink down in my seat and push my tinted glasses back up on my nose.

  The class’s attention shifts from my discomfort. Some to the board where Mr. Grumble is still writing the equation, some to flirt outrageously with the new boy in class, some to sneak out their phones and send a text, which most definitely isn’t allowed.

  Only the new girl—she and the boy are twins—takes time to give me a commiserating smile. I grimace back.

  She’s always polite and kind in her dealings with me, something that confuses me.

  Now her brother, Tyler, although polite, is oblivious. Comes from having girls trip all over him I guess.

  The bell rings. I pick up my books. When the room clears, I slide out of my seat. Holly, the new girl, is waiting for me, her entourage grouped around her. She smiles. I glance over my shoulder but the warm smile is for me. She waves her friends on. “I’ll catch up.”

  They move forward like a herd of sheep, perplexed expressions on their faces. Can’t blame them, I’m perplexed myself. I don’t get a lot of attention. My blonde hair is scraped back into a ponytail and pinned in a wrap-up sponge barrette. My clothes are baggier than a rapper’s and as unassuming as I can find. In other words, the total package is boring. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that’s the way I like it, but it’s necessary.

  “Hi.” Holly shifts her books to her other arm.

  “Hi.” I clutch my book bag to my chest, not making eye contact.

  She falls in step beside me. “Bad luck hitting Grumble’s radar. Half the kids in class sleep through his lectures.”

  I shrug.

  “Would you like to grab a latte after school?” is her next conversational gambit.

  “Why?” No doubt, I sound like a total jerk, but there’s no point in encouraging a friendship. Though the idea of an icy latte and girl talk appeals. A lot. If the situation were different, I’d be a girlie-girl, but it’s not and I’m not.

  Chatter surrounds us. Juniors and seniors hurry down the hall to their classes. Rosemont is built like a letter U. Freshmen and sophomores on one side, juniors and seniors on the other; the gym and stage merge in the center.

  “Because you look like you can use a friend. I know I can.”

  “I have friends. Everyone has friends.” Okay, they’re people and creatures I’ve saved and they don’t know who I am, but I’m sure I could count on them in a pinch.

  “And a sense of humor.” Holly laughs. “Who’d a thought?” She looks me over. Her lips twitch; she tries to hold back a smile.

  I grin reluctantly. Then what she tacked on sinks in. “You’re the most popular girl in school right now. Why would you possibly need a friend?”

  She bites her lips and looks at me.

  I cave. “Okay, as a matter of fact, I’d love a latte, but I warn you I’m not noted for my sterling conversation. I’m clueless about the latest trends in hair, clothes, or shoes.”

  At that moment, her hottie-of-a-brother Tyler lopes by. “Hol,” he acknowledges his shorter, fraternal twin. He gives me an absent nod. Not unkind, worse, indifferent. I’m damn sick of fading into the woodwork.

  She looks at me as if she’s waiting for me to figure it out. I glance from her to her brother. Right. Holly’s pretty but hardly drop-dead gorgeous. Though her vivacity makes up for it. And she is the new kid. Still, I get it. The girls are sucking up in the hopes of scoring with her brother.

  “Alright, I’ll meet you at the Pink Cat Coffee Shop at four o’clock.”

  She smiles and her pretty features light up. It takes her out of the attractive—but not mega hot—category and puts her in her brother’s. “See you at the Pink Cat. Don’t stand me up.”

  “Hey, it’s not a date you know.” I’m a firm believer in gay rights, but it’s so not my thing.

  She giggles. “My heart belongs to Ben Henley.” She names the football player who was firmly ensconced as the most popular boy at Rosemont until her twin arrived on the scene.

  “I’ll be there,” I promise and head for social studies.

  It may not have been smart but having a normal teenage destination to look forward to will certainly make the rest of the day easier to get through. I lied when I said I wasn’t interested in hairstyles and shoes. I love girlie stuff. Anyone with a drop of girl DNA loves shoes.

  I look at my clothes and sigh. I’ll be so glad to get home where I can shuck them like a used cocoon.

  For now, I continue the role of uninteresting, blah nerd. I do such a good job even the geeks keep their distance.

  With a sigh, I thump my books on my desk and slide into my seat.

  For t
he next forty minutes, I immerse myself in the effects of mob behavior on normal people. As soon as the bell rings, I shoot out of my seat and head for the door.

  I hit the hall at a fast pace, not paying as much attention as I should and collide with Edgar the Asshole Fahrenbacher, the most egotistical senior in Rosemont. Although, why anyone with a name like Edgar should be arrogant is beyond me. Maybe he’s overcompensating. He calls himself the Stallion. With chestnut hair, tight jeans, and a swagger, he’s not bad looking, but his looks don’t match his ego.

  “Oof.” My books go flying and so do his. They hit the floor with a thud.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, head down, heat shooting through my cheeks.

  “Not only are you a mouse, you’re a klutz. Pick my books up.” Totally humiliated, I bend to comply, hating every minute of it. I would much rather knock him on his swaggering butt and I could do it, too, if I weren’t trying to keep a low profile. Well, I could in the water anyway. I can hold my own against anybody in the water.

  When I reach for his chemistry book, he kicks it farther down the hall. Embarrassment turns to mad. What a total jerk. Before I totally blow my cover, hands reach out and sweep up the books.

  “Which ones are yours?”

  I look into piercing blue eyes and forget to breathe—and everything else for that matter.

  “Which are yours?” Holly’s brother repeats patiently.

  Mutely, I point at the top three. He hands them to me before he helps me to my feet. The rest he thrusts at Edgar. “I’m sure you can get the other book yourself,” he says easily to Edgar.

  Edgar nods, scowling at the interruption of his version of pull-the-wings-off-the-fly.

  “Thank you.” Breathless, lost in the depths of those deep pools of blue, I forget to disguise my voice. Fortunately—or unfortunately in this case—it doesn’t go with my nerd image. Gramps compares it to mermaids’ and sirens’ songs. For an old guy, he’s a romantic. So when I talk, I try to drop toward an unobtrusive alto.

  Tyler’s head jerks up. He wasn’t paying attention to who he was helping, just being kind to one of the lesser beings. For the first time, he really looks at me and frowns, no doubt trying to equate the voice with the nerd.

  I get a firm grip on my books and my raging hormones, and walk hastily away. I can feel his gaze boring into my back, probably trying to see past the shapeless clothes. I shudder, pick up my pace and, of course, trip. I keep a firm grip on my books, right myself, and keep going.

  Fahrenbacher’s hateful laughter rings in my ears. If only there was a convenient hole to crawl into. My sensitive hearing picks up a murmured, “What a voice.”

  Tyler’s comment echoes in my head as I hurry through wide swinging doors escaping toward sunshine and a blue cloudless sky. I breathe in fresh air, yearning for the scent of salt water.

  I turn right amid the cluster of excited voices around me—also anxious to escape the strictures of high school—and head for the coffee shop. It’s only a block away. I’ll come back later and pick up Beulah, my old truck.

  When I arrive at the Pink Cat, Holly has already confiscated a booth. Of course, it’s filled by a couple of the more popular girls in school. This is so not a good idea. She smiles and motions me over.

  I shake my head and straighten my shoulders. I’ll at least get my latte. I wait in line and, when I get to the counter, mumble my order.

  Ignoring Holly, I grab my latte and head for the door.

  “Piper,” Holly’s voice rings out. I cringe but take another determined step toward the door.

  “Piper,” Holly bellows again.

  I sigh. So much for anonymity. I turn and prepare for twenty minutes of hell. After that, I’ll make my escape. This is such a stupid idea.

  I drag my feet over to her table.

  “There you are.” She beams. “Sit down. Piper’s going to help me with my chemistry,” she explains to the two cheerleaders sitting with her. They rise with alacrity.

  “Uh, catch you later, Hol. Cheerleading practice starts in half an hour,” the taller one says.

  “Give our best to your brother,” the other chimes in.

  “Of course,” Holly responds sweetly.

  They grab their drinks, murmur a hello in my direction, and trot out the door.

  “You were going to stand me up,” she accuses.

  I shrug. “I’m lousy at chemistry.”

  “I’m pretty good at it,” she responds with a mischievous smile.

  “You’re bad. I like it.” As always, except for that one slip with her brother, I use my nerd voice. This girl is way too bright.

  She gives a modest smile and sips her cappuccino, loaded with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

  She glances disparagingly at my no-frills iced latte. “That looks very plain.”

  “It fits me.” I take a sip and sigh with pleasure as the bite of espresso and the smooth taste of chocolate coalesce and slide down my throat.

  She leans forward, her expression both curious and knowing. “Plain’s exactly what you’re not, but for some reason you want people to think you are.”

  Startled, I jerk upright. The cup, slick with condensation, starts to slip from my hands. I set it down hastily.

  “What are you talking about?” My stomach jumps.

  “You’re the only girl in school who hasn’t tried to befriend me in order to get to my brother. It piqued my curiosity.” She places her elbows on the table, rests chin in hands, and studies me.

  I squirm. “He’s not my type. I’ve barely noticed him.”

  “Oh, you’ve noticed him all right. Even with those tinted glasses, I’ve seen you follow his progress down the hall. So why haven’t you tried to worm your way into my good graces?”

  Why indeed? My brain shuts down. “I’m shy,” is all I can think of.

  “Maybe.” She sips her frothy drink and leans back, her gaze still on me.

  “Your brother isn’t the complete God’s gift to women everyone seems to think he is.” Liar. Liar.

  “That’s telling me,” an amused voice speaks over my shoulder.

  Crap! Busted.

  Chapter 2

  I’m so going to die of embarrassment. And after he chivalrously came to my rescue when I smashed into Edgar the Asshole.

  I straighten my shoulders and mumble in a rough alto, “I’m sorry, that was very rude of me after you helped me earlier.” When I first decided to change my voice, I should have gone for high and squeaky. It would have been in keeping with Fahrenbacher’s mousy image of me, but it’s too hard on the voice box.

  “What happened?” Holly’s eyes widen and she leans forward.

  “I collided with Edgar Fahrenbacher. Your brother came to my rescue before Fahrenbacher could turn me into his boot-licking slave,” I say with more asperity than I mean to.

  I feel a lean hip press against mine as Tyler lowers himself into the booth. The warm thigh squeezing intimately against mine sends a sharp jolt of electricity through me. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to keep from leaping over him and running for the door. Instead, I nonchalantly ease over to give him room.

  Can he hear the erratic thumpity-thump of my racing heart?

  “Fahrenbacher’s full of himself but harmless.” He acknowledges an acquaintance at another table with a lift of his hand.

  “I wonder.” I’m good at reading people. I can sense more at an elemental level than most folks bogged down by social mores cluttering their perceptions. Beneath Fahrenbacher’s social facade of arrogance is meanness and cruelty. He bears watching.

  Before Tyler can respond, three girls from my lit class come over and flirt shamelessly with him.

  “Take your entourage and go away, bro.” Holly waves him off.

  He grins and rises. “See you at home. Bye, Piper.”

  I nod.

  He ambles away, the three girls in his wake.

  “Now you’ve done
it.” Holly shakes her head and sighs. She throws her voice to be heard above the chatter going on around us.

  “Um?” Tyler strides with a loose-legged gait to the counter. I love the way his soft, faded jeans cup his extremely pinchable butt. He and his harem place their order.

  I shift and give Holly my attention. “Done what?”

  “You’ve become his latest cause.”

  My ears tingle. Something’s wrong with my hearing. “Excuse me?”

  “Tyler’s a big believer in accountability. Now that he’s come to your rescue, he’ll view you as his responsibility.”

  “I am not his responsibility nor do I desire to be.” I jab at the ice in my latte with my straw. Yeah, right. For a moment, I imagine myself as Tyler’s responsibility. A second later, sanity returns. “It’s entirely unnecessary. I’m equipped to take care of myself.” Better than most.

  Tyler goes outside. The three girls trail after him. “He seems to have gotten over it.” I watch, through the glass wall, as the girls flirt their empty heads off. I immediately feel ashamed. I have no way of knowing whether their heads are empty or not. Mortification surges through me. I’m jealous.

  Holly smiles knowingly. “The bro has that effect.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My belly knots. Holly Carlisle sees entirely too much. I suck down the rest of my latte and stand. “Thanks. It’s been...” My voice trails off as I try to figure exactly what it has been.

  “Educational,” she suggests, eyes twinkling.

  “You’re a witch,” I accuse.

  “And you mean that in the nicest possible way.” Her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

  The girl is incorrigible. I shake my head and beat a hasty retreat.

  “See you tomorrow,” she calls.