Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1)

by Brooke Blaine

  “You look nervous,” Zoe said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she poured crumbled pralines into a bucket of ice cream to mix together. “Need a paper bag to blow into?”

  “Maybe? I think it’s more queasiness, so I might have to use the bag for another reason.”

  “Not in the kitchen, you don’t. Now can you please sit down and stop pacing around? You’re making me nervous.”

  I took a seat on a stool by the large center island and drummed my hands over the top. I’d stayed away from looking next door, though that had taken an enormous amount of willpower. I’d been dying to get a look, but I hadn’t been about to risk running into Hunter until we were both ready.

  I glanced up at the clock. Five more minutes until noon, when I’d walk the few feet and see the finished product. Five more minutes until I’d see him again and determine whether we could give it another try, or…

  Don’t think about the or.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said. “I should be excited, not sweating bullets.”

  Zoe hummed in agreement. “I was trying not to state the obvious.”

  “Sometimes I need to hear it.”

  Four minutes.

  Stop watching the damn clock. Looking down at the fitted pinstripe skirt I’d worn that flared below the knee, I wondered if I should go put on something else. Something a little shorter to showcase my legs, since he’d always complimented them and they were pretty covered up right now. Not that I truly thought showing a little leg would change his mind about anything, but I needed all the help I could get.

  “I’m gonna go change,” I said.

  “You don’t have time to change. And you don’t need to.”

  “He won’t look twice at me in this.”

  Zoe stopped mixing and ran her eyes over me. Her gaze stopped on the tight fit of my shirt across my chest and she tilted her head. Then her eyes flicked up to mine, and I saw what she saw.

  Oh. Oh damn.

  “You’re good,” was all she said before going back to mixing.

  I could feel the blush on my cheeks from her perusal. Okay, so I wouldn’t change. “Zoe thinks I’m hooooooott,” I singsonged, swinging my legs off the stool.

  She shook her head and looked up at the clock. “It’s time.”

  “I still have two minutes left.”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes, and it had me sliding off the stool and holding my hands up.

  “Okay, okay, I’m going.” When I got to the end of the kitchen, I glanced back. “Hey, Z? How’s my ass in this dress?”

  The crumpled bag of caramel whizzed past my head.

  “That good? Okay, then.”

  I scurried out of the room with a smile on my face, but when I got out to the floor, the nerves came back.

  Where the tarp had previously been there was now a door that slid into the wall, so I could keep the entry open during business hours of both shops when I wanted to or close it off. Licked was packed today, and I didn’t want anyone getting an early glimpse before opening night the following week, so I went outside to enter from the front door.

  The heat that welcomed me was like being blast into hell, the sun blinding as I stepped outside. My palms began to sweat, my heart skipping as I stood on the sidewalk staring at the magenta door that stood out in contrast to the black exterior of the After Dark. Both businesses color coordinated, but whereas Licked was open, bright, and inviting with a wall-to-ceiling glass window, the closed-off front of the After Dark suggested a seductive, more intimate experience.

  Wiping my hands off on the front of my dress, I steeled myself for what would happen next.

  You can do this. It will look amazing. Hunter will be receptive. It’ll be okay…more than okay.

  With a deep breath, I reached for the handle and stepped inside. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I was greeted with a view I couldn’t have made up in my wildest dreams.

  It was stunning. So unbelievably gorgeous that I stood there, mouth agape, for what had to be minutes as my eyes feasted on what had been transformed from gutted interior into an extraordinary lounge in just a few short weeks.

  The ceilings were draped in rich shades of pink and purple fabric that billowed out from the edges of the room, and then pinned to the ceiling in the center. From there, a dramatic chandelier came down, its light reflecting around the darkened space.

  And the bar. Oh my God, the bar. The top of it moved like hot-pink lava, stretching and swirling into different hues as it traveled up and down the length. Behind it, spotlights shone on the wall, which showcased a massive mural of glamorous poses from Golden Era actresses, all provocatively covered in white sheets. I wanted to cry, so overwhelmed by what I was seeing and that it was mine.

  Swallowing back that urge, I shook my head and whispered, “Holy shit.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  The voice from behind had me swiveling to face him. Hunter stood a couple feet away, his hands in his pockets, seemingly casual as he stood there in a black pinstripe button-down and jeans, but the tense set of his shoulders said otherwise. There was a melancholy tilt to his mouth, but still, he looked more handsome than I’d ever seen him. There was nothing I wanted more than to reach for him, to wrap my arms around his neck and breathe him in, but I couldn’t do that. Not just yet.

  Shaking my head slightly, I said, “No, I don’t just like it. I love it.”

  “Not bad for a few weeks,” he said, his eyes trailing along the walls and ceiling behind me.

  “Not bad, period.”

  He inclined his head toward the front. “Come on.”

  As I followed him, he turned all business, pointing out the work they’d done, describing the detail of what I was seeing. I hadn’t noticed when I’d entered, but the fabric that draped along the ceiling also gathered at each corner and trailed down to the floor in an elegant sweep. Each of the booths along the walls were U-shaped with plush padding, and high-top tables were placed sporadically throughout the space. He’d been right about ordering a smaller size to accommodate the walkways, making it easier to get to the bar and back areas. And speaking of the back, we’d forgone the gaming area I’d originally thought about to make a hidden lounge, as well as a series of cozy VIP sections that were as luscious as the rest of the bar.

  My vision of the After Dark had been blown out of the fucking water, and by someone who knew what I’d love before even I did. How that was even possible, I had no idea, but as I turned to face him, I felt the damn prick of tears again. But at least this time they were happy ones.

  “I don’t even know what to say…” I started, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “You don’t have to. I know.”

  “You do. You know me.” My eyes stayed on his, urging him to read between the lines. I want you. I need you.

  He looked away from me and nodded at the far wall. “We’re still waiting on a couple of the paintings, but those should be in no later than Saturday morning.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  My eyes caught on his shirt again, and when I looked down at my skirt I realized we matched. A small smile crossed my lips, but his gaze wasn’t on me to see it.

  Try. I have to try…

  “Hunter,” I said, but he held up a hand.

  “Don’t. Let’s just…leave it alone.”

  I went still, and then he dropped his hand, giving a heavy sigh.

  My heart sank. So he didn’t want to hear what I had to say. Didn’t want to entertain the thought of there ever being an “us” again.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Once I get the pictures up, I’ll drop by with the keys. Sometime before the film crew gets here, I’d imagine.” He looked around the space again before his eyes settled back on mine. After a long moment, he said, “Well. I think that’s it.”

  I wasn’t ready for him to leave yet, but when his hands went back into his pockets, I heard the jingle of his keys.
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  No, don’t leave. Fuck, just say it…just tell him you want him back. Tell him you were stupid, that you know the truth, and you were wrong not to trust him. Tell him it won’t happen again. Say anything so he won’t walk out the door.

  The rhythm of my heartbeat counted down from ten, the inevitable coming, but I was powerless to stop it.

  …four…three…two…

  One.

  “I’ll see you,” he said finally, his eyes piercing mine. Then his back was to me, as he headed toward the door.

  Stop him.

  “The taping for the show is this Saturday,” I called out. He stopped and slowly turned around. “The interview starts at six thirty. I’d… I’d really like it if you could be here. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t.” I took a small step forward. “Please, Hunter.”

  His gaze dropped to the floor as he thought it over. Then he looked up, an inscrutable expression on his face. “I’ll try to make it if I can.”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  His answer wasn’t a no, but it was far from a yes. What was running through his mind right now? Did he want me too and neither of us could manage to spit out the words, or was he eager to get away from me? This wasn’t how I’d thought things would go at all.

  Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he gave me a long look before nodding. I didn’t stop him this time when he left, the bright sunlight spilling into the room briefly as he walked out before vanishing and leaving me alone in the dark again. A metaphor for my time with him if ever there was one.

  I’d chickened out. A thousand things I wanted to say, needed to say, but not one of them had come. I’d lost my voice when I’d needed it most. And as I stared at the shut door in front of me, I realized that wasn’t the only thing I’d lost.

  “CHEERS TO OUR enormously talented friend, who is about to take the world by storm with her naughty shakes. We are so damn proud of you.” Quinn held up her glass as Shayne, Paige, and I followed suit.

  “To Ryleigh, owner of the best-looking bar in L.A.,” Shayne said.

  “I didn’t see my bed in the back like you promised, but cheers, bitch. You did amazing.” Paige blew me an air kiss, and we all clinked glasses before taking sips of the first drinks ever made at the After Dark.

  I tried not to feel the guilt at her words you did amazing, since I couldn’t take credit for any of it. It was all Hunter. And thinking of him and the way he’d left me two days earlier had my heart seizing in my chest, the regret overwhelming.

  Forcing him out of my mind, I smiled at my friends, who’d come to help me christen the bar the night before the big show. I could hardly believe that in less than twenty-four hours, I would be done filming and the fate of turning my dream into a reality across the U.S. would be in the hands of thousands of viewers around the country.

  For so long I’d thought about what it would be like to have an ice creamery, something I could call my own, something to have complete control of that would reflect everything I was. And now to have two incredible businesses… I knew not to take that for granted. And as much as I wished I had the man I wanted to share those dreams with here to celebrate, I had to focus on being grateful. He’d done his part, and now it was time to do mine.

  Right? Right.

  “Thank you, guys. Best friends a girl could have,” I said.

  “Damn straight,” Paige agreed before sucking a cherry between her lips. “So by the way, we’ve decided to crash your little TV show thing tomorrow. What time should we be here?”

  “Really? You’ll come?”

  Shayne smirked. “You know bloody well we wouldn’t miss it.”

  “And Paige has to make sure she hasn’t missed out on screwing any of the hot, eligible men still roaming L.A.,” Quinn added.

  “Oh come on,” Paige said, “you make it sound like all I think about is sex.”

  All three of us stopped and stared at her.

  Paige feigned a hurt expression. “What? I like to date. Dating and sex don’t always go hand in hand, ya know.”

  The three of us looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

  “Fuck off, you prudes,” Paige said, clinking her glass against each of ours. “And cheers to that.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I have this really great guy at the agency I could set you up with—” Shayne said before Quinn’s hand clamped over her mouth.

  I shook my head in disapproval. “You know what happens now. Someone revoke her green card. She’s threatening us with dates.”

  “Someone dispatch the INS to remove the alien from the premises,” Quinn said.

  “I am a legal alien, thank you very much, and I have a permanent resident card to prove it.” Shayne took her wallet out of her purse and flashed us the card proclaiming what she’d said. “You can’t just revoke it for no reason, so kindly go to hell, you arseholes.”

  Giving a dramatic sigh, I said, “I feel so much love in this room. You think other friends tell each other I love you by flicking them off or telling them to go to hell?”

  “If they don’t, I feel bad for them,” Paige said. “If you can’t tell your friends to fuck off with a smile and know they aren’t going anywhere, then you don’t have real friends.”

  Quinn flicked her long hair over her shoulder and held up her glass again. “Can we cheers to that? Or over shots this time?”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked. “I have to be on camera tomorrow, and bags under my eyes don’t really go with my outfit.”

  “Everyone get a glimpse of this lightweight,” Paige said, standing up and raising her voice as if addressing a full room. “She gets trashed off a boozy shake and a shot, and she owns the bar. You can’t trust a non-alcoholic bar owner.”

  Rolling my eyes, I laughed and slid off my stool. “Exactly why I am the owner. Someone has to be sober enough not to confuse the rum with the bourbon in a Pansy Ass.”

  As I lined up the shot glasses along the gorgeous custom bar top, I looked over at the crazy group of women I called my family. For those few moments in the bar with my friends, the world felt almost right again, and I’d forgotten all about the heaviness in my heart.

  Like I said. Almost.

  THE NEXT DAY I stood outside the entry that joined my two shops, watching the flurry of activity in the After Dark as men set up the lighting and the director went over last-minute checklists with the woman who would be interviewing me. It was beyond surreal, but luckily I had the girls on standby to pinch me whenever I needed it. And I’d needed it several times already.

  We’d closed Licked for the day, the first time ever on a Saturday, but I had Zoe and a couple of the other staff on hand for the film crew to get footage of them in action. Zoe, bless her, had colored her hair a bright fuchsia to match the Licked logo, and all of them sported vintage ensembles. I couldn’t be prouder.

  “Are you nervous yet?” Shayne asked as she sidled up to me and linked her arm through mine. She had her fabulous red curls pinned up on the side with a big white flower and, just like my staff, was wearing a retro sundress in solidarity.

  My friends are awesome.

  “Terrified,” I said. “Why am I doing this again?”

  “Because you’re depriving everyone outside of L.A. of your genius idea and mouthwatering desserts if you don’t share. That would be a crime, and you’re not a criminal, so”—she nodded at the cameras—“go kill it.”

  “Ryleigh? They need you in makeup,” Quinn said, as she walked up behind us. Though she was petite, she was a fierce sight in her signature black…well, everything. “Better hurry. Paige is over there getting tips on contouring, and they’ll have her looking like a Kardashian soon.”

  “Oh, good grief.” I quickly went over to the tables we had pushed together for hair and makeup to see Paige in a pair of striped shorts and wearing a rocker tee, blazer with rolled-up sleeves, and higher heels than mine. She was trying on a deep shade of lipstick under the approving eye of the makeup arti
st.

  “What do you think?” she asked, looking at us through the mirror. “Too much?”

  I eyed the deep wine shade against her blond hair. “Surprisingly, it suits you. I think I’ll stick to pink, though.”

  “You must be Ryleigh.” The makeup artist shook my hand. “Let’s see what we can do with you today, shall we?”

  We went over the color palette, and I showed her my preferences. Although it should’ve excited me to have someone else doing my makeup today, I was more panicked that I’d look nothing like myself when she was done. While she worked, a dark-skinned man in a white suit came over and circled around me, holding his chin in thought. I soon learned he was my hair stylist, and that worried me for a second because the guy was bald. How do you trust a man with no hair to do yours? Anyone? Bueller?

  “What do you think about a bow?” he asked, his French accent pronounced as he ran his fingers through my tresses.

  “A bow? Uh…I haven’t put bows in my hair since I was five.”

  “No, no,” he said, holding my hair on top of my head. “Your hair is the bow. Your bow is the hair. You see?”

  “I don’t really know how—”

  “Just wait. Trust me, I show you,” he said, grabbing a comb and teasing my hair up to high heaven.

  Please, God, don’t make me look ridiculous today.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as they worked, not wanting to see the progress they made until it was all done. But I tried to have a little faith. I mean, French people do great updos, right?

  There was a tap on my shoulder what felt like an hour later.

  “Miss? Ryleigh? Wake up now and see.” The man sounded excited, so I steeled myself for something crazy. Opening my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the gorgeous shade of pink painted on my lips. Very nice. A pair of false eyelashes, long and curled, made my eyes pop, and though I still looked like myself, it was the more glamorous, airbrushed version that would be impossible to maintain in real life. My gaze drifted up to my hair, and it took me a second to realize it was my hair. A bow. He’d made it into a freakin’ bow sitting on top of my head. It sounded insane when he’d proposed it, but now I was kicking myself for not watching so I could replicate it.