“I appreciate that.” He smiled, one of those ultra-white, blinding smiles. Then a thought seemed to cross his mind, and he furrowed his brow. “Listen, I have to apologize for the other night—”
“Oh, don’t worry about—”
“No,” he said, holding his hand up. “My behavior was inexcusable, and, if you’ll let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”
Ding ding ding. In bed?
I pretended to take a minute to think about his offer before saying, “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
His smile came back. “Great. How’s tomorrow night?”
Oh damn. I was covering the late shift for the next two nights for one of my staff who had a family emergency. “Actually, I have to wor—” I started before Zoe knocked into me from behind.
“Sorry, boss, I didn’t see you there. Hey, I was wondering if I could pick up more hours this week. Like, maybe tomorrow evening?”
That tricky little woman. Bless her.
“You sure you’re up for a double shift?” I asked.
Zoe scoffed. “Seriously?”
Yeah, okay. She pretty much lived at the shop anyway. I owed her one.
She winked at me as she walked away, and I turned back to face Cameron.
“I guess it’s a date,” I said, trying not to cheesy-grin too hard until he left.
“Great. So I’ll pick you up…where, exactly?”
“Oh, here’s fine. My apartment is upstairs.”
“Really? So you weren’t kidding when you said you lived at work.”
I shook my head. “In more ways than one.”
Cameron nodded at the ugly tarp I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. Which was like asking someone not to pay attention to an elephant in the room. Maybe I should paint the stupid thing.
“You expanding?” he asked.
“I am. The booziery side of the business has taken on a life of its own, and we need more space. I was hoping it’d be finished by now, but the guys are running so behind, and I’m not sure it’ll be done for the Expand Your Empire contest in a couple months.”
“Is that the one Wake Up America is doing? Damn, that’s huge.” Cameron gave a low whistle. “So the expansion isn’t just limited to next door?”
“Nope. Hoping to take Licked nationwide.”
“That’s incredible, Ryleigh. You should be proud.”
As my eyes wandered the room, taking in all that I’d accomplished so far, I had to agree. “I am.”
“You know,” he said, looking back at that damn tarp. “I could get Hunter to stop by and take a look, see what’s holding up the renovations.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that, I’m sure he’s booked—”
“No, it’s no problem. He owns his own construction business, so maybe he can light a fire under their ass.” Cameron winked, and I melted into a puddle. Checking his watch, he stood up and pulled a few bills out of his pocket before pushing them my way. “I’ve got to get back to the office, but I’ll pick you up tomorrow at, say, seven?”
“Seven’s perfect. And it’s on the house,” I said, shaking my head at his attempt to pay. He stuffed the bills into the tip jar on the counter and gave me one last gorgeous smile before heading out the door.
As the deliciousness that was Cameron walked out, a new recipe took hold in my mind. A Sex God Sundae: a king-size banana split, salty nuts, extra cream…
THE NEXT DAY, I was scooping balls of Like a Virgin vanilla bean into a Coke Whore float when the front door chimed, and in walked Cameron’s roommate. Hunter. Sporting another pair of worn jeans that sat on his hips and looked like they’d been dark to begin with.
He looked… Well. Fucking hot. Not that I had noticed.
Okay, fine, so I noticed. It was hard not to with the way he sauntered into my shop. I handed the Coke float to the last customer in line and then wiped my hands on a wet towel.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Your Ass is Grass?”
When he raised an eyebrow at me, I noticed how impossibly long his lashes were. Why do guys always get the perfect ones, and women have to pay for them?
“Excuse me?” he said.
I shrugged. “You look like a mint chocolate chip with brownies kind of guy.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“It’s my job to know these things.”
He smirked and then glanced around the store. “Cameron mentioned you needed help with renovations.”
“I’ve got some guys on it already, but they seem to be taking their sweet-ass time.”
When Hunter’s eyes landed on the tarp, he inclined his head. “They working today?”
“Should be.”
He walked over and lifted the edge of the cover to peer into the workspace. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Mind if I go in?”
“No, give me a sec and I’ll join you.” I untied the apron I’d chosen to match my burgundy swing dress and placed it on a hook. “Be right back,” I told my staff.
I followed Hunter into the empty space next door, the smell of woodcuttings greeting my nose.
“How long have they been on the job?” he asked as he walked slowly around the room, taking in every inch of the space from wall to ceiling. It was a mess. Even I could see that. It would’ve been in better shape just to leave it like the retail store it had been than to have them tear it all apart so it was a big pile of nothing.
“About four weeks. I’d given them a deadline of less than six weeks from now, but, uh”—I sidestepped tools scattered on the ground—“I’m thinking that won’t happen.”
When Hunter had walked around the entire interior, he came back to where I was standing at the missing bar space. His lips were pursed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Won’t happen,” he confirmed.
My heart sank. I needed this expansion to go through because the Wake Up America special would be filmed here, and a huge part of whether I could spin Licked off into a chain hinged on how it went. I’d been trying not to let myself think my timeline had been unreasonable and they wouldn’t get it done. Big fucking mistake.
“Oh God,” I said with a groan, rubbing my forehead. “What do I do? How do I make them go faster?”
“Who’s the contractor?”
“Scott Lewiston.”
“I could’ve guessed that. Where are they now?”
“Um…extended lunch break, if I had to guess.”
He shook his head. “Tell me what you’ve got going on here.”
I led him back around the room, showing him where the bar would be, how I envisioned the high-top tables, the booths, and the private room and gaming area in the back. It would be the same vibe as Licked, but catered toward the night crowd.
Licked…After Dark.
“All right,” Hunter said when I’d finished giving him the tour. “I’ll do it.”
“What?” I sputtered. “I can’t let you do that.”
“That would be a stupid move on your part.”
“We have a contract—”
“I’ll get you out of it. And then my team will take over.” His voice brooked no argument, but I did anyway. Because I can be a persistent pain in the ass.
“But…how…why would you do that? I’ve never even seen your work before.”
“My guys are all on break right now, but they get antsy when I make them take a forced vacation. We can have this done by your deadline. And you’ve been to our place, so you have seen my work.”
I stared at him in shock. “That all sounds great, but why would you do this for me? You don’t even know me.”
Hunter’s head cocked to the side as he studied my face, and when his eyes were on my mouth, I shivered. Must’ve been a draft from the open tarp.
“You need help, right?” he asked, his arms still crossed, his biceps bulging against the material of his grey shirt. That answered the question, Do you work out? Damn.
Swallowing, I said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”
He gave a curt nod and started to back aw
ay. “I’ll draft up the contract and bring it by tomorrow. I’ll get the blueprints from Scotty boy.”
“Wait. What should I do about them—”
Hunter’s eyes were intense on mine. “I’ll take care of it. They’ll be out by the end of the day.”
And then he was gone.
THURSDAY EVENING HAD arrived, and I’d begged Paige to help me find something fabulous to wear. And by fabulous, I also mean fuckable.
“I’m thinking the black pencil dress. Definitely.” Paige’s appraising eye ran down the length of one of the outfits I held in my hands. “And those candy-apple heels. Bam. Done.”
“You’re the best,” I said, tossing the other outfit on the bed and shimmying into the winning number.
“Wait. Are you wearing those?” she asked, indicating my matching satin bra and panties.
“What’s wrong with these?”
Paige rolled her eyes and pushed off the bed before strolling over to my dresser. She pulled open the top drawer and rummaged around before holding up a thong. “This. Wear this.”
“That’s not gonna hold anything in,” I protested.
“You don’t have anything to hold in, so will you please just put it on.” Tossing the underwear to me, she went and flopped back on the bed. “Where’s he taking you?”
“No idea.”
“Oooh, surprises. Maybe he’ll take you to Shellan’s. I’ve been dying to go there.”
“Yeah, and the wait list is about three months long.” Pulling on the thong I’d never worn, I felt naked. “I think I’m gonna pass on these. With any luck, he won’t even notice what I’m wearing under my skirt because he’ll be too busy ripping it off.”
“With his teeth, and trust me, thongs are the better option. Hipster panties are not gonna get you hitched. You don’t bust those out until after marriage. Trust me on this.”
Leave it to the wedding coordinator to be thinking that far ahead. Fine. The damn thong would stay. “Have I ever mentioned how weird it is that you of all people plan weddings for a living? You’re the most anti-commitment person I’ve ever met.”
“Hey, that’s not true. I commit for a whole week sometimes.”
I snorted as I pulled the SJP heels off the rack and slid them on. Admiring my reflection, I said, “That’s a rarity and you know it. What I don’t understand is how you manage to spout all the ooey-gooey love stuff all day long.”
“My gag reflex is amazing,” Paige replied, waggling her eyebrows before dodging the clutch I threw at her. She laughed. “Well, it’s true.”
“When are you just gonna admit you’re madly in love with Dawson and settle down and pop out a soccer team already?”
Now it was her turn to throw the clutch.
“Double Dick? He’s an imbecile. I wouldn’t fuck him if he changed his name to Prince Harry and bought out Tiffany’s.”
Sure she wouldn’t. Richard Dawson and Paige had been playing the love-hate game for years now, and each was determined that the other was the lowest, most disgusting human they’d ever come across in their entire existence. We humored her because it was entertaining as all hell to watch, but it would surprise no one if we learned they were hate-fucking behind the scenes. We’d already placed bets.
My cell rang then—Cameron letting me know he was waiting at the front. When I ended the call, I took a deep breath and faced Paige. “So? What do you think?”
“Entirely fuckable. Go get ’em, tiger.”
IT HAD BEEN a nice night. Emphasis on nice.
Cameron had taken me to The Oyster House overlooking the Pacific, and we’d talked about what we’d been up to since we graduated, about our families, our interests. It was all just so…nice.
I know, I keep saying that word, but…well, maybe I expected more. Like passion and sparks and heavy sexual tension. Our conversation hadn’t screamed I can’t wait to get you tangled in my sheets, but there was still time.
After dinner, we’d walked down to the beach, and he’d grabbed my hand as I held my shoes in my other. The breeze was chillier than I expected, and, gentleman that he was, he gave me his coat. It was warm and smelled like him—fresh, clean…like spring rain. And it was long, considering his height, which I was grateful for. It stopped my teeth from chattering, at least.
“I’m glad you said yes to tonight,” Cameron said, squeezing my hand. “After my last impression, I wouldn’t have blamed you for turning me down.”
“It’s not your fault you’re narcoleptic.” I looked up and gave him a half-smile. “Although if you pull that act while we’re on this beach, I’ll be tempted to leave you here.”
He laughed and nodded. “Fair enough.”
When he stopped and pulled on my hand, I backtracked to face him. His hands went to my waist, his gorgeous eyes on mine, and I saw it. The I’m-gonna-kiss-you-now-so-you’d-better-buckle-up look.
My heart thumped loudly in my chest, and suddenly, I was aware of every little thing: how cold I was, how much I wished I’d worn pants and a sweater, how much I needed to actually go buy pants and a sweater, the loud roar of the ocean, the other couples that passed us that were out for a romantic stroll, that I wished I’d worn a clear gloss instead of my signature pink because it was going to smear if he kissed me…
Kissed me.
My stomach twisted in knots, and my head swam.
Oh no. This was not how this was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to be nervous with dread. I was supposed to be nervous from excitement.
Ryleigh, this is what you’ve wanted. Look at that face. Who wouldn’t want to kiss those perfect lips? I begged myself to get it together so I could enjoy this. I was going to enjoy this, dammit. Because I couldn’t forever be known as the girl who passed out when Cameron Mathis kissed her.
His eyes searched mine, and he must’ve seen something there, because he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay.” Liar. I’m such a liar. I rested my hands on his chest as his brow furrowed.
“Are you sure? Because your teeth are chattering.”
They were? Shit. Pull it together, teeth. Cameron’s about to warm your mouth up in three…two…one…
As I inclined my head and leaned forward, fat raindrops landed on my face.
What the hell?
My eyes blinked open, and I saw drops smacking Cameron in the face too. And not just any raindrops. Cold-as-a-toilet-seat-in-an-igloo drops.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, the skies opened up, and in seconds we were drenched. Drenched. In Southern California. Where rain is obsolete, and a heavy downpour is a smattering of sprinkles. Until tonight.
Cameron’s hold on my waist left as he grabbed my hand, both of us running through the dunes of sand back to his car. My shivering wasn’t just limited to my teeth anymore, as my body was racked with shaking.
Hello, Mother Nature. It’s me, Ryleigh. Thanks for giving me a break with the panic attack, but next time, could you at least let him kiss me first? I just needed to get the first one out of the way, and then I’d be okay.
At least that was what I hoped.
He put the heater on blast once we got inside the car and then began the drive back to my place. Even the seats began to warm up, and for that, I was grateful. Once my body stopped convulsing, and God, isn’t that sexy, I relaxed into the seat, letting the warmth envelop me.
Cameron glanced over and smiled. “Better?”
“Much better.”
“Good.”
I wondered if he’d reach across the console and grab my hand. Did I want him to? What the hell, Ryleigh? Of course I did. Or I could just grab his. No, I’m not that bold. I’d probably reach for it and grab his crotch instead. Um, again.
“Hunter mentioned he’ll be taking over the renovations for your place,” Cameron said. He ran his hand over his wet face and hair. It was still styled perfectly in place, just glistening from the rain now. His chiseled face was picture perfect, even soaking wet.
How the h
ell was it fair he looked like he’d just shot an Abercrombie ad under rain hoses and I looked like a drowned rat? Okay, so I hadn’t looked at myself yet, but I knew it was true. When I’d run my hand over my hair, the elaborate updo I’d spent an hour on had sagged like a deflated party balloon.
I swiped my fingers under my eyes to get rid of my non-waterproof and probably now dripping mascara. “Yeah, he starts tomorrow. He moves quick. I can’t believe he was able to take over from Scott.”
“You don’t know Hunter. When he puts his mind to something, he’s tenacious.”
“Well, he’s saving my ass, so thank you. Free ice cream for life any time you come in.”
“I’m not even going to pretend to turn that down.” Cameron pulled into an open space in front of my shop/apartment, and shut off the car. The rain was pelting the vehicle, the streams running down the windows becoming a shield from the outside. With Cameron shifting to face me, it was suddenly too dark, too warm, too enclosed. The guy couldn’t win for trying. The nervousness I’d felt on the beach returned.
Damn nerves. Go away.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t kissed guys. I had. A million guys. Or at least twenty. Just call me a kiss-o-holic. I was damn good, and I could blow Cameron’s mind. If only I could make myself move the ten inches closer and attack his mouth.
He seemed to sense my hesitation, and pulled back. “So,” he said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning for Hong Kong. It looks like I’ll be gone at least a couple of weeks if all goes well…”
Ah, there it was. Disappointment pushing away my nerves. Fucking finally.
“Make sure to eat some roast duck for me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Running his hand over the steering wheel, he didn’t look at me as he asked, “So…can I see you again? When I get back?”
“I’d like that,” I said, my lips tipping up in a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
Cameron looked at me then, his light eyes shining in the dark interior. He leaned toward me, his intention clear.
Oh hell. We’re doing this. I’m doing this.
I mimicked his movement, my head inclining to the right at the same time his moved in the same direction. It startled me so much I burst out laughing.
Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1) Page 4
