Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Other Books by Aimee Nicole Walker
Acknowledgments
About Aimee Nicole Walker
The Lady is a Thief
(The Lady is Mine, #1)
Copyright © 2017 Aimee Nicole Walker
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover photograph © Wander Aguiar—www.wanderaguiar.com
Cover art © Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art—www.simplydefinedart.com
Editing provided by Pam Ebeler of Undivided Editing—www.undividedediting.com
Proofreading provided by Judy Zweifel of Judy’s Proofreading—www.judysproofreading.com
Interior Design and Formatting provided by Stacey Blake of Champagne Book Design—www.champagnebookdesign.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original publisher only.
This book contains sexually explicit material and is only intended for adult readers.
Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgments
The author acknowledges the copyrights and trademarked status and trademark owners of the trademarks and copyrights mentioned in this work of fiction.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Other Books by Aimee Nicole Walker
Acknowledgments
About Aimee Nicole Walker
Mom,
Not a day passes that I don’t miss you and wish I could hear your voice just one more time. Though you may be gone, I carry you in my heart. Always.
HAVE YOU EVER OPENED YOUR eyes first thing in the morning and had a feeling wash over you that something big was about to go down? I’m not talking about a killer sale on high-heeled boots at Nordstrom’s either; I’m talking about a life-altering event. It’s happened to me a few times in my life and each time something big had actually occurred. Now, I’m not implying that I’m psychic, but I’ve learned to listen to my gut. I usually had an indication of whether the surprise was good or bad, but that wasn’t the case on that particular morning. Why? Could the event be both good and bad for me? Was the universe still undecided?
I dismissed it all together as I rolled over and burrowed deeper in my blankets. It was my day off after all, and I decided it would be a lazy one. I envisioned myself leisurely drinking coffee while I caught up with my friends by text or social media. I would follow that up with an indulgent French toast brunch for one then a long, luxurious bath before I headed over to Curl Up and Dye for my hair and manicure appointment.
Lulu, my faithful French bulldog, snored obnoxiously loud when I nuzzled my nose behind her ear and attempted to cuddle her. It was her signature move when I irritated her while she was trying to sleep in late, and her diva-like shenanigans never failed to make me smile.
“Mama’s precious angel,” I whispered and kissed the velvety softness of her dark gray ear. Lulu’s response to my lovey-dovey words and affection was snoring even louder. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll be forced to eat all the bacon by myself.”
Lulu rolled over onto her back, presenting her tummy to me, and looked up at me with her big, dark eyes. She knew damn well she had me wrapped around her paw and she wasn’t remotely sorry. Lulu was a gray-and-white Frenchie, which wasn’t that unusual, but her markings were unique all to her. Her ears and the top of her head were dark gray while the bottom half of her head beneath her eyes was all white, making it look like she wore a mask. Her pointy ears and dark gray mask made her look like Bat Dog. Yes, I hummed the Batman theme song every time she did something amazing, which was every day, of course.
Lulu was a gift from my twin brother, Milo, on my twenty-ninth birthday the previous year. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to celebrate our last year in our twenties, commiserate because we’re both pathetically single, or he just knew that I needed a healthy outlet for all the love bubbling inside me. Regardless of his reasons, Lulu was the best thing to ever happen to me. Yes, she was pampered and spoiled, but she returned that love to me by wagging her nub of a tail and prancing when I came home each day. I hadn’t realized how quiet my house was or how lonely I’d grown until Lulu came into my life and filled the void. Milo smugly took all the credit for my happier state of mind, of course.
“Uncle Milo is right sometimes—okay, often—but we can’t flatter him too much if we want to keep him grounded,” I told Lulu.
My phone rang on my nightstand, jarring me out of my lazy cuddles with my dog. I raised up on my elbow and reached over Lulu to grab my phone. “Speak of the devil, and he’ll dial you up before a decent time on your only day off,” I said before I answered the phone. “Good morning, Thing One.”
“Get your lazy ass out of bed, Thing Two,” Milo replied.
“Just how do you know I’m still lazing about in bed?”
“Twink link.”
It was true that I was closer to Milo than any other person on the planet, including our parents. I mean, we did share a uterus for nearly forty weeks before we were pushed into the cold, cruel world against our will. We could feel each other’s emotions through what we call our twin link—or twink link, as Milo called it—but I doubted I released an emotion strong enough to reach Milo that morning.
“What do you really want?” I asked dryly.
“French toast brunch, of course.” Had I become that predictable? “Maegan, you make French toast every Wednesday. Most people do extravagance on Saturday or Sunday mornings, but not my sister.”
“I have two businesses to run on the weekends and quit answering questions I don’t ask aloud. It’s just fucking creepy.” I sat fully up in bed because I was no longer in the mood to cuddle under the blankets.
“We have two businesses to run,” Milo c
orrected sassily. “I’m right beside you in the trenches, sister.”
While it was true that Milo was my business partner at Books and Brew and Curious Things, we approached our businesses differently. Our stores were something that Milo did, but they were how I defined myself. Milo worked as many hours as me, but at the end of the day, he turned it off and went home. For me, the businesses were my life. When I wasn’t at work, I spent my free time trying to create new ideas to make our stores stronger and even more appealing. I read articles about name branding and books on how to provide a positive environment for employees. I spent evenings looking at recipes for the next best baked good or combing through dark, dingy places trying to find the perfect curiosity to sell. Our success as business owners was my biggest source of pride.
We had started out renting one of four commercial spaces in our building and opened a coffee and pastry shop called The Brew. The other three window fronts were empty, and we bought the building from our landlord as soon as we saved enough capital to convince a banker to take a chance on us. We knocked down a wall between our coffee shop and one of the empty spaces to expand the space to include a bookstore and changed the name to Books and Brew. We initially planned to rent the other two places, but Milo talked me into turning my passion for selling antiques and oddities online into a brick-and-mortar store. The fourth space we did rent to Memphis, who opened a comic book and vinyl record store.
Milo didn’t get excited about digging through attics and basements in homes to find the good stuff before they were sold at estate or auction sales, but Memphis loved it as much as I did. Together, we found some amazing treasures for our stores. He hadn’t lived in Blissville for very long, but it felt like we’d known him our entire lives. Milo and I each had our own little circle of friends where we did our individual thing, but Memphis was someone we both enjoyed hanging out with, and he was so easy to love it wasn’t funny. I thought it was too bad that Memphis and Milo weren’t attracted to one another because they would make a gorgeous couple. I wanted at least one of the Miracle twins—that never stopped sounding funny—to find their happily ever after. Memphis had once joked that Milo was too nice and he only knew how to fall for bad boys, and although Milo would never admit it, I knew damn well which guy still owned his heart.
“Earth to Maegan,” Milo said impatiently, cutting into my thoughts.
“Yes, Milo. We have two businesses to run. Wednesdays are my lazy days,” I reminded him.
Milo snorted. “You can’t do lazy if you tried. I bet you’re planning to sip coffee and catch up with your friends, make your fancy French toast, crispy bacon, and fluffy scrambled eggs, and then take a long enough shower to use up all the hot water in your tank before you get your nails and hair done later this afternoon. How close am I?”
“Eerily close but I was hoping to take a long, hot bath and read a book.”
“Well, I do know you pretty damn well,” Milo quipped, “which is why I know that none of those things were going to happen.”
“Wrong,” I said defiantly, but I noticed my words lacked real conviction.
“You would’ve picked up your phone to catch up with your friends and ended up looking at some business article or finding a new recipe to try instead. That would’ve led to another article or a link to an upcoming estate sale or auction that would require you to make phone calls so that you could get a crack at the goods before anyone else.” I wanted to argue that he was wrong, but he was so accurate it was spooky. “You would’ve ended up making a dash to one or more locations to find the item because you were sure it would only take thirty minutes. Then you’d end up losing track of time, requiring you to race back to town and pull up to the salon so fast that pedestrians would dive for safety.”
“Okay, so maybe you’ve seen this show a few times.”
“I’ve lived it for thirty years,” Milo corrected. “So, I’m doing you a favor by coming over so you at least get your beloved French toast brunch because I’m confident that you would’ve settled for peanut butter crackers.”
“Doing me a favor, huh?”
“I’m altruistic, Mae,” Milo said dramatically. I pictured him sitting in his house covering his heart and blinking his big blue eyes innocently. “Someone has to save you from yourself.”
“And if you just happen to benefit in the process then that’s okay too, right?”
Milo sighed heavily. “You wound me.”
“Give me twenty minutes to shower and get dressed.”
“I’ll give you thirty in case you want to work in a little…”
“Stop talking, Milo.”
“I’ll be able to tell if you do,” he teased, knowing that it creeped me out. People actually asked us if we could feel each other having sex through our link. The answer was a grateful “hell no” each time. What kind of perverts asked that anyway?
“No French toast for you,” I said, mimicking the soup Nazi from Seinfeld.
“We will see you in twenty minutes,” Milo said.
“We? Did you have an overnight guest or is this a split personality day? If so, which extra personality are you bringing? Diva Divine or Fanny Flair?”
“Ha ha ha. I love how you give my multiple personalities drag queen names,” Milo said dryly. “If you must know, I’m picking up Memphis on the way over. Don’t make the bacon too crispy, Maegan. I’d hate to chip one of my perfect teeth. We don’t like chewy bacon either.” He hung up without saying goodbye, leaving me to stare at my phone in disbelief.
“Uncle Milo is an asshole,” I told Lulu. She let out a loud snore while looking right at me. “Fine, but you’re getting up to go pee as soon as I get out of the shower.”
I didn’t linger in the shower taking care of the business that Milo alluded to either. Unfortunately, I made it a quick shower rather than a long, luxurious bath.
As I stepped out to towel off, I heard the loud roar of my new neighbor’s ginormous truck as he came home from work. I had yet to meet the man, or at least I assumed it was a guy based on his ride. Sure, women drove trucks, but they seldom drove trucks bigger than they needed. Maybe I was judging the guy harshly, but what did he need with a truck that tall with side mirrors that were bigger than my head? I’d understand if he was a farmer, but we lived in town, and this joker worked at night. I heard him fire up that diesel beast each evening about the time I drifted to sleep and he roared back home each morning when I was in the shower. I was curious about his identity, but not enough to do something about it.
As cold as it was in mid-January, Lulu got her business done and returned to the door quickly. I loved having a fenced yard on mornings like those so that I could watch from inside while she safely did her business. Cold weather didn’t seem to bother her, but I threatened to move to Florida at least once a day during the months of December through March.
Milo and Memphis showed up right on time, and I started making breakfast for the three of us while they entertained me with their good-natured bickering back and forth. They honestly sounded like a couple who’d been married for twenty years or longer. It was too bad we couldn’t convince our hearts and bodies who to be attracted to because Memphis made Milo laugh and smile as no one else did. That heat and attraction I saw in Milo’s eyes when he looked at Andy Mason during unguarded moments was missing when he smiled at Memphis across my kitchen table.
“Beefcake Andy sure has some talented hands,” Memphis said out of the blue.
I dropped my spatula on the floor while Milo choked on the coffee he’d just sipped from his cup. Memphis winked playfully at me as he pounded on Milo’s back while he sputtered and coughed. I had tried to encourage Milo to patch things up with Andy, who stared at my brother like he hung the moon when Milo wasn’t looking, but I had never tried to kill him in the process.
“Asshole,” Milo said to Memphis, his scratchy voice sounding like he had gargled a mouthful of rocks.
“Yes, I do have one of those, and it’s divine,” Memphis said nonpluss
ed while he blinked his eyes innocently. “What’s with the name calling? I was just trying to tell you guys how Andy came over last night and used his big, strong hands to fix… things.”
Milo glared at him for several heartbeats before he responded. “I fucking hate you.”
“You fucking love me,” Memphis countered. He shook his head and continued. “You’re acting as if I was the thing Andy fixed, and I assure you that’s not the case at all. I had a leaking pipe beneath the bathroom sink, and my bedroom closet door kept sticking badly. Andy fixed those things for me.”
“Well, isn’t Andy just the jack of all trades,” Milo said bitterly.
“Oh, and I bet he masters quite a few of them,” I said then bumped Memphis’s fist when he raised it in the air. “Not that you’re thinking about all the things that Beefcake Andy can do to you with his big, meaty paws, Milo.”
“Stop calling him Beefcake Andy. It sounds barbaric. Andy might work with his hands and drive a truck, but he’s not some knuckle-dragging Neanderthal who should be reduced down to his body and dick size.”
“Who said anything about his dick?” I asked. “I believe the big and meaty reference was to his paws, as in hands, not his cock and balls.” Memphis threw his head back and laughed.
Milo’s face turned an interesting shade of red before he mumbled and said, “Both of you can shut the hell up.” A wicked smile spread slowly across his face then he added, “Unless you want to discuss your sex lives.”
“Who was talking about sex?” Memphis asked. “I’m pretty sure I said he fixed my closet door and bathroom pipe. Besides, no one wants to hear about my pathetic sex life. Hell, I can’t even get lucky in my dreams.”
I snorted. “Same here.” I shook my head over the sad trio that we made. The bacon grease on the stove popped and burned the flesh on my hand closest to the skillet. “Damn, that hurt.”
“It’s fate,” Milo said from behind me.
I remembered that feeling I had when I first woke up. I was pretty sure that getting splattered with bacon grease wasn’t the surprise that life had in store for me that day, but was it a sign of crappy things to come? It seemed that way when I dropped my keys in a puddle of dirty melted snow on my way to the salon. I had half a notion to go back inside my house and hide from whatever fate had in store for me, but one did not miss a hair appointment with Joshua Roman-Wyatt. A person had to book his services at least eight weeks in advance.
The Lady is a Thief Page 1
