Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1)

by Brooke Blaine

  “That’s, like, three hours away. Do they have a website or a catalog I can look at first?”

  Hunter shook his head. “He’s a bit old-school, but that’s exactly why he’s great for this project. And no, I don’t get some kind of commission for referring, I just know his work. Up to you how you want to move forward.”

  “So you’re saying I have to go to his shop?”

  “Yeah. He’s out of town, so how’s next weekend?”

  I flipped the pages of the calendar in my mind. “The weekend works, but since we’re closed on Mondays, can I do it then?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll just check with Mitch and make sure it’s good with him too.”

  “Thank you, but what’s this ‘we’ business?”

  “You can’t just go pick out whatever you want with no regard to my side of things—”

  “Your side of things?” I interrupted.

  “Well, my business eye. Plus, I can get you a better rate if I’m there.”

  “Right. You’re right. And this place can do what I envision for the pieces? Like unusual flairs—”

  “Even better, no doubt.”

  I looked at him warily, but he seemed confident about it, and he hadn’t steered me wrong yet. I blew out a breath. “Thank you. You’re saving my ass yet again.”

  With a shrug, Hunter said, “Not a problem. It’s a nice ass.” When my mouth fell open, he chuckled. “But I should probably get back to it.” He slid out of the booth and looked down at me. “You need any help?”

  “What, standing up? Nah, I think the urge to dive into a tub of whipped cream has passed.”

  A sinful look crossed Hunter’s face then. “That’s too bad,” he said quietly, rapping his knuckles on the table before walking away.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? He wanted me to drown myself in whipped cream or he wanted to see me in—

  Oh. Oh damn. This guy was potent, and if that sexy glint in his eyes was anything to go by, it was pretty clear he knew it, too.

  THE NEXT MORNING as I was walking in the shop after having made a run for coffee beans, Hunter strolled through the tarp.

  I gave him a sharp look as I rounded the counter and shook my head. “Nope. No way. Don’t even say it.”

  He stopped, holding his hands up, and I tried not to look at the way the red shirt he wore with his company’s logo across the front sculpted to his muscles.

  “What’d I do?” he asked.

  “Nothing yet, but I’m sure you’re coming to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

  “Now why would you think that?”

  “Is it the plumbing this time? Or the furniture guy has closed his business permanently and I’ll have to get those plastic chairs after all? Or is it termites? Please don’t say termites. I think I could handle anything else.”

  “It’s not termites.”

  “Oh thank you, God. The plumbing?”

  “Is fine,” Hunter said as he came around to the front register.

  “So this is just a friendly hello?”

  “It is.”

  “Oh. Well, hi.”

  “Hey.” He smiled, and while his wasn’t the beaming smile of Cameron’s, it was something worse. Much worse. It was sexy with a side of cocky, one that no doubt had women flinging their panties in his direction. But not me. Nope. I was holding on to my hipsters, thankyouverymuch.

  “Can I get you and your guys drinks or anything?”

  “No, thanks. We don’t usually have vodka until after lunch.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “Not on duty, of course.”

  “Right.” The feeling in my stomach could only be described as anxious, the casual hellos scaring me more than the possibility of termites. Okay, now that was a problem.

  He cleared his throat and glanced up at the menu. “So, I’ve had to smell your shop for a week now, and I have to say”—he looked at me and leaned in closer—“fucking delicious.”

  “Um.” Dammit, why was my face getting hot? This was why I needed a tan. Pasty-white girl who blushes easy gave me away too much. Great. “Thank you.”

  “I thought maybe I could have a taste?”

  My eyes were on his lips, which were closer than they were a few seconds ago. Or was I imagining things? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumbled.

  “Why not? No one’s here.”

  “Because…” My mind tried to come up with a logical reason, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but his damn lips. “Because Cameron’s your roommate.”

  “What does that have to do with trying out this famous ice cream I’ve heard so much about?”

  When I looked away from his mouth, it hit me what he was saying. Oh come on—

  “What did you think I meant?” he asked, his eyes smirking at me.

  There was no way my face wasn’t pinker than my pencil dress. Please, God. If that massive earthquake everyone keeps talking about is going to happen in my lifetime, can it be now? Can it just swallow me whole, right here, right now? Because fuck.

  “Which would you like to try?” I asked, my lame attempt at changing the subject all I could think to do besides run away like a little girl.

  His smile grew bigger. “Oh, I think you should tell me what you’d like me to try.”

  “Feel free to eeny meeny miny moe it if that helps.”

  “So you can’t give me a recommendation?”

  “Oh, I could. I was just about to switch out the specials from yesterday’s specials, so hmm… The Wanker is right up your alley.”

  “Ouch. You know,” he said, leaning in again as if telling me a secret, “I wouldn’t be so polite if we weren’t talking about ice cream.”

  He couldn’t be serious. Flirting with me after that embarrassing denial? I wasn’t giving in to that discussion. Hell no. “All right, Stage Five Clinger it is.”

  “I’ll go with Ravaged Raw,” he said, pulling out his wallet, to which I held up my hand to stop him.

  “And what size?”

  “Just a scoop is fine.”

  I nodded. “Sure thing. One Castrated Ball of Ravaged Raw for Mr. Morgan.” I held up the scooper like a weapon and gave an evil smile. I couldn’t stop myself from doing it every time someone ordered a one-scooper, even if they soon changed their minds.

  “Wait—what? I don’t want a castrated ball.”

  “But you said just one scoop. One scoop, one ball. Unless you’d like a full set?”

  Hunter just shook his head at me. “You’re a sick, twisted woman.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a smile.

  “What’s two scoops?”

  “Well, two scoops would be the full set of Love Balls.”

  “Yeah, let’s go with that,” he said, adjusting his jeans.

  “Wise choice.”

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it’s called the Castrated Ball. No one wants to order it, so it’s always an upsell. I can be a genius when I want to be. The rest of the time I’m just making a fool of myself in front of gorgeous guys.

  No—not gorgeous. Annoying.

  “So is this always what you wanted to do?” Hunter asked when I pushed his order across the table. “Open an ice cream shop?”

  I set about getting the front end ready for opening the shop as I answered his questions. “Yep. My grandparents owned one in Newport, and I always thought it was the coolest thing growing up. That, and I have an insatiable sweet tooth.”

  “That’d be my weakness too,” Hunter said with a wink. “Cam mentioned you were always into this style back in school.”

  “What, the retro thing?”

  He nodded. “And the outfits.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t the most popular kid for it, but…” I shrugged. “I mean, you like what you like. Maybe it was growing up in my grandparents’ shop that rubbed off on me, but I was just obsessed with everything from the forties, fifties, and sixties. I thought the women were beautiful and the men were so debonair. So c
lassic. I guess it just…stuck with me.”

  “I like that. The not caring what anyone else thinks.”

  “Oh, I cared. You think hearing whispers in the hallway doesn’t wear on your self-confidence when you’re fifteen? It totally does. I got so upset that I made my mom take me shopping for jeans. I wore those for about a week and went home crying every single day. It just wasn’t me. Wasn’t worth it.” I clamped my mouth shut. Okay, where had all that come from?

  Hunter’s eyes were pensive as he looked me over. “You’re different.”

  “So?”

  “Different looks good on you.”

  I bit down hard on my lip to keep from acknowledging his compliment with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He took another bite of his ice cream, and I busied myself with prepping the theme toppings for the day. But when a hard knock on the door sounded moments later, I looked up and groaned.

  “Oh no,” I said when I saw who it was.

  Hunter followed my gaze. “Want me to tell her you’re not open yet?”

  “No.” Sighing, I made my way around the bar. “It’s my best friend Shayne’s boss. Val. Runs a matchmaking company and is a nightmare like you wouldn’t believe.”

  I set about unlocking the door, and then opened it wide, putting a smile on my face. “Val. What brings you by?”

  The woman breezed by me, all Chanel No. 5 and a fur wrap, even in the middle of July. She was a tall, broad woman with a permanent red lip, and a husky voice that would’ve kicked Kathleen Turner’s ass in a round of “Who’s got the better sex operator voice?” Though she had to be pushing fifty, there wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen anywhere. A stretched and injected piece of work, this one.

  “I heard about the renovations, and I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any nailing going on during our mixer tomorrow. Well,” she said with a smirk, “no unauthorized, non-paying nailing.”

  “Everything’s all set, and the crew is off tomorrow, so no need to worry.”

  Val wrinkled her nose and walked over to the tarp. “What the hell do you call this? I need you to get rid of it.”

  “And…do what, exactly?” I asked.

  Val looked at me as if she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t saying, “Yes, ma’am, anything for you, ma’am.” She blew out a haughty breath, and then her eyes landed on Hunter. They grew bigger when she saw his face before narrowing when she caught sight of what he was wearing.

  “You,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Please help Ryleigh understand that this isn’t going to do for my event. Trashy, not classy.”

  I almost snorted. As if that woman would know classy if it walked up and whacked her on the nose with a vintage cigarette holder.

  Hunter turned on his barstool to face Val, his face impassive. “Maybe we could find a tarp with glitter to put up for the night. How’s that sound?”

  “There will be no tarps or glitter, unless one of my clients has a fetish for them, in which case, you can keep them stocked in the back.”

  “I’m guessing a beaded curtain is out of the question too?” Hunter asked.

  “Unless it’s made out of diamonds then it’s out, smartass.” Val sauntered over to Hunter, her smoky eyeliner-rimmed eyes appraising him again. “Stand up,” she said. “Up, up.”

  Hunter pushed off the stool, and the look he gave me was full of is this bitch for real? Yes. Yes, she was.

  “Now turn,” Val said, indicating for him to circle around so she could inspect him from all angles. Hunter sighed but did it anyway, probably of the same thought process I was—just get her the hell out already.

  “Hmm. On second thought… I’ll be willing to forgive the eyesore in the shop if I can trade it for the eye candy standing in front of me.” Pursing her lips, she nodded, and then looked back at me. “Dress this little beefcake up in something that screams ‘God of a million instantaneous orgasms,’ and make sure he’s here by seven.” She reached past Hunter, grabbed the cherry off the top of his sundae, and popped it into her mouth before giving him one last look. Then she sashayed to the door, which I gladly held open for her, and as she walked by me, she said, “And make sure to stock extra cream.”

  “ALL RIGHT, EVERYBODY, I need cocks on one side, pussycats on the other. Chop chop, now, or I’ll make you all play strip Simon Says.” Val stood at the front of Licked the next evening, dressed in an elegant crimson dress that looked out of place with the words spewing out of her mouth as she commanded the room.

  The men and women gathered for the mixer HLS—Hook, Line, and Sinker Matchmaking Company—was holding scattered to the far sides of the room like worker bees for Queen Val. And weren’t they the cream of the crop: the men donned suits and ties; the women wore extravagant cocktail dresses and sky-high heels that had me lusting with some serious shoe envy.

  For my part, I stayed behind the bar with Amber, who was helping with the drinks since my usual wingwoman, Zoe, was out. Unlike other matchmaking companies, Val didn’t throw down a two-drink rule, which made it a more-than-profitable night for me. In addition to the variety of mixed drinks, the special tonight was a First Base boozy shake. Guaranteed to help some get lucky tonight. Hey, I do my part.

  I was telling myself not to watch the door. Not to notice that a certain someone hadn’t showed up after all, which I would certainly hear no end of from Val later. Hunter probably didn’t own anything fit for tonight’s dress code, since he lived in jeans and t-shirts. But I wasn’t thinking about that—much.

  Focusing my attention back on the drink I was making, I added an extra cherry and slid it across the bar to an attractive forty-something guy who winked at me as he paid.

  Dude. I just put a cherry in your drink. You’re not screaming overly masculine and sexy. I mean, he could’ve gone with Cognac.

  “Miss? Could I get a Cosmopolitan?”

  I shook my head and pointed at the specials on the counter sign. “If you’re looking for fruity, the Red-Headed Slut is probably up your alley.”

  The blond let out an exaggerated sigh and inspected her manicured nails. “Could you manage Grey Goose, because I only do top-shelf. Thanks.”

  She turned her back toward me before I could explain that it was Jäger and not vodka in the drink. Whatever. She’d never know the difference.

  I caught Shayne looking at me and quickly rolling her eyes from where she was planted next to Val, and I smothered a laugh. We didn’t have to say anything, and we knew—bitches were crazy.

  Val clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention. “So the first thing we’re going to do this evening is—”

  The jingle of someone entering the front door had Val’s mouth opening and eyes narrowing like she was about to give a lecture, but when she turned around, all that came out was, “You’re late.”

  As the handsome man came into view, it took me a moment to realize who it was, and when recognition dawned, my jaw dropped. With his hair styled back instead of flopping across his forehead, and wearing a tailored black suit and tie, Hunter was…

  Well, hell. He was kind of breathtaking, wasn’t he?

  His eyes found mine, and his lips lifted in greeting. I forced myself to close my mouth.

  As he moved past Val toward the bar, she grabbed the crook of his arm. “Where do you think you’re going, fancy pants? Move your hot ass over to the right. You can get a drink later.”

  I was shocked to see Hunter without a smartass retort, and even more shocked when he did what she said. As he leaned against the wall with about twenty-five other guys, he crossed his arms and smirked at me.

  What the hell does that look mean?

  “Excuse me, could you please add some whipped cream? It tastes too liquory.” The blond was back, pushing her Red-Headed Slut my way. Considering the contents of the glass were about half gone, I doubted she’d had to force it down. Whipped cream wasn’t an ingredient in the drink, but I added a couple swirls anyway. She probably wouldn’t be getting any other cream later with that attitude. Wi
nk wink.

  Val had split the men and women into groups of six, three of each sex, and was walking through the room observing and popping in to make conversation until the alcohol hit and the shyness went away.

  Shayne sighed as she leaned her hip on the bar. “That guy in the suspenders has already groped my arse twice. When I complained to Val, she told me he was probably just perfecting his squeeze for later.” She cut her eyes at me. “I should’ve told him to go play with hers, but he’d need four hands and gloves.”

  I picked up the shot glass of her favorite, Rattlesnake, from under the bar that I’d poured a few minutes ago for when she got a break, and passed it to her. “I don’t know how you work with her. Or why. I’m convinced you’re a saint.”

  “Glutton for punishment, more like.” She brushed a strand of her long, fiery red curls behind her ear, looked in Val’s direction, and then shot the ’snake. Poor thing.

  Though Shayne was a more successful matchmaker than Val, and the true brains behind the operation, she was under the assumption she needed Val more than Val needed her. Which was the furthest thing from the truth. If you asked me, Shayne was terrified of branching out on her own. Oh, she seemed confident, what with her sweet Aussie charm and her ability to put together a couple out of the most odd pairing, but I knew the truth. And the truth was that she’d rather deal with Val and stay in her comfort zone than take a flying leap off a cliff and start her own business.

  Hah. Like I did. And look at the mess I’m making, I thought, glancing at the tarp.

  Shayne nodded at the group by the jukebox as she popped a mint in her mouth. “Isn’t that your builder?”

  When I looked over to whom she was referring to, I caught Hunter staring at me, and I quickly looked away again. “He’s not my builder.”

  “You know what I mean. What’s he doing here? He wasn’t on my list for the mixer.”

  “Val orgasmed when she stopped by yesterday to complain about the renovations and saw him.” I shrugged. “Even trade.”