by Cari Quinn
I lengthened my stride along the sidewalk. The chance of being spotted increased on this block of restaurants in the busier section of Santa Monica. The new hot spot for the crazy vegans—or the trendy vegetarians as I liked to think of them—had way too many paparazzi types using their sniper lens for pictures to make their next buck. Why photos of a Kardashian shoving an overpriced, and still somehow tiny, plate of food down their gullet was high entertainment I’d never know. And while I wasn’t as in demand as the lead singer of my band, I did have a decent resale score because of my partying days.
Ones that were fading further and further into my rear view.
I flexed my hands. They ached from beating the shit out of the drums last night in my basement. Neither the heavy bag or my weights had been enough to calm the noise in my head. Having a soundproofed game and instrument room allowed me to have my own schedule regardless of neighbors. And last night I’d exercised every right with blaring music and playing along with Dream Theater.
I rolled my shoulder and cracked my neck as The Pussy Palace came into view. She really did have a sweet little corner shop with perfect pedestrian traffic.
And I lusted after her coffee as much as the proprietress.
My only problem was with the idea she wanted me to treat her as a project. I didn’t want to reenact the damn Sabrina movie, or My Fair Lady. My mom was a huge old movie fan, not to mention I was trapped on a bus full of women half the time. And well, Audrey was hot.
Much like my new little dynamo. Dark hair, huge dark eyes, and small enough to tuck into my pocket. My kitten had a few more curves than the legendary Audrey. I only felt like I was going to break her half the time.
And a semi-awkward kiss shouldn’t have the power to keep me tossing and turning in my bed.
Okay, so maybe it was just the woman.
The thought of helping her out with any part of kissing or flirting wouldn’t have kept me up all night if I wasn’t off tour. At least I was pretty sure.
I opened the door, grabbing the jingling bell before it could clatter its signal I was on the premises. My dick jangled instead. Sweet fuck, what the hell?
I wanted to see how she acted when she was in her natural habitat, but man, I hadn’t expected this.
She was doing her usual job, all right. She was up on a stepladder which immediately made me uneasy. It was one of those industrial-sized ones that department stores used and reminded me of an outdated stairclimber. She was on the top step, her feet wide apart for balance.
Where I was used to her wearing sneakers, jeans, and T-shirts—now there was high heeled boots that hugged her calves leading up to skintight dark jeans that hugged her infinitely bitable ass. She wore a stretchy black shirt that hugged her hips and fell off one shoulder, showing a purple strap of some kind.
And now I was imagining her more-than-a-handful breasts in purple lace.
Not good.
I suddenly wished I hadn’t worn a vest that required me to tuck in my damn plaid button-down. Her coffee shop was turning into a damn Pavlovian response. Coffee lust and Piper fascination with a side of inconvenient dick situations. A perpetual hard-on wasn’t the first thing a woman wanted to see. Well, maybe this woman wouldn’t have a problem with it. She seemed eager to learn all the things.
My dick was certainly on board with the plan. But I wasn’t ruled by my cock, no matter what it thought.
She turned to the side to talk to her employee. She tossed down bags of coffee from the top shelf as she called off blends of coffee. When she said hickory, my system jumped for another reason.
Her house blend the day before had been rich and delicious, but I couldn’t quit her hickory. I needed to buy about ten bags of it when I went back on the road.
A swift pang hit me at the thought. For the first time, it wasn’t an excited one.
Unwilling to think about that too closely, I moved into the cafe proper. The familiar yowl of my nemesis made me stop in my tracks. “Not today, Satan.”
Piper looked over her shoulder at me. “She’s not Satan.” Her hair was bundled on top of her head again, but a loose lock danced along the side of her face. It was no longer just a dark brown. Now it was as rich and dark as the coffee I lusted after. The curling end looked as if it had been dipped in deep violet. She pushed it back impatiently before reversing her steps down the ladder.
The closer I got to her, the more changes I noticed. I wasn’t sure I liked them.
Her dark eyes were rimmed in some sort of smoky makeup that made them look bigger and more exotic. The worst offense was her wide, pale lips. They had some sort of shimmery stuff on them.
I definitely didn’t like it.
I preferred the natural thing Piper had going on. The old Piper had been more natural anyway. I didn’t want her to look like the rest of the people in my life. I nearly opened my mouth to tell her so, but years of training kept me from getting my balls kicked into my teeth.
Unless I was wrong, I had a feeling Piper wouldn’t take it as a compliment. At least not if I was at all intuitive when it came to this woman. I was usually on better footing with women, but this one left me as perplexed as a horny teenager.
“You’re late.”
“I most certainly am not.” I looked down at my watch and nearly tripped as Maya wound her way around my ankles. I sneered down at her. “You take me out again and we’re going to have words. Not nice ones.”
Piper’s lips twitched as she pushed the ladder out of the way. A moment later, she came around the counter holding a to-go cup in each hand. She held one up for me.
“Is that…”
“Yes, addict. It’s your hickory. Am I going to need to order more? Is this going to be a thing?”
“Depends on how many lessons you want.” I took a glorious sip.
Her almond-shaped eyes seemed as tilted and assessing as the felines she took care of. “I want all of them.”
I choked. “Seriously, kitten. You can’t say shit like that.”
She tipped her head. “Why not? This is a business proposition.”
“Get that thought out of your pretty head right now.”
She huffed out a breath. “What? You prefer to call it a project?”
“You’re not a damn project.” Though she did feel a bit like one. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that to get lodged in my brain. Because once I started something, I had to finish it.
Finishing lessons with her—whatever they may contain—might just kill me.
“Class is in session, and Professor Wyatt is my very willing, very helpful teacher?” She grinned up at me, a little bit of wild swirling there. “How’s that?”
I was so fucked.
“All right then, let’s start with the 101 class then.”
“Oh, so I’m a freshman? New to all the things?”
I swallowed. An array of images infiltrated my brain and all of them were X-rated. “You sure you need this or are you just fucking with me?”
Her grin bloomed into a full-fledged smile. She took the coffee from me and set both down on the table beside us. “Maybe I can advance to a few sophomore classes.” She gripped the edges of my vest and dragged me down to her level and smashed her lips against mine.
Again.
What was with her and the aggression?
My eyes flew open. Teeth were only supposed to be involved under certain circumstances. Evidently, that needed to be one of our first lessons.
I held her upper arms and gently set her back a step before she gave me a fat lip. “Ten points for effort.”
Piper frowned. “That’s what I usually heard right before I got a C grade.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to tell her to slow down without hurting her feelings. And I immediately wanted to start another lesson. One that had me, her, and her hickory coffee-flavored mouth involved in a very long, leisurely kiss.
Her employee came out from the back. “Don’t mind her. I gave her a makeover last night and she thinks she’s the
next Lucy Hale.”
“Hotter than Lucy.” Though I did see the resemblance. Piper was just a bit more stacked.
Her face brightened again. “I’ll take it. Though I have to give all the kudos to Tabs. She put this whole thing together from stuff at the back of my closet. Who’d a thunk the sales rack would give me a really cool outfit?”
Her employee did a face-palm behind her. “You have your work cut out for you, dude.”
Piper twisted out of my arms and put her hands on her hips. “Not helping.”
I braceleted her upper arm and dragged her toward the door. “You good to leave?”
“Leave? We can’t do this here?” She stumbled once, but caught my waist before she took a full-on header. Her short nails dug into my belly. “Wow. Are you hard like that everywhere?”
“No, kitten.”
“You’re not?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I mean we’re leaving.”
“Oh.”
At her disappointed look, I lowered my mouth to brush her temple as I reached for our to-go cups. “There are places far harder.”
She swallowed. “Oh.”
There was a bit of wonder there and I decided I was in even deeper trouble than I’d first realized.
Which was saying a damn lot.
She frowned and seemed to shake herself out of whatever thought process that was going on in her head. For once, I didn’t want to know. I wasn’t entirely sure I was prepared for it. “But I have to work,” she said.
“I can close up,” the woman with the purple hair said.
“Since when?”
She gave Piper a cheeky smile. “Since you have a date.”
“It’s not a date,” we both said.
“Sure it’s not.”
I hissed as the cat went from her subtle head bumps to a much more proactive climb of my pants, her nails stabbing me with every inch. “Can you please help me?” I growled.
Piper attempted to snag the cat, but she leaped away from her and swished her tail before cleaning a paw. “I’m telling you, she only likes you. I don’t understand it.”
“Makes two of us.” I handed Piper the other cup then steered her to the door. “Off we go.”
“Can you remember to put the cats—”
“Goodbye, Piper.”
Piper blew out a breath. “I need my purse.”
“Why?”
“In case you kill me, I have identification?”
“Well, that’s a lovely thought.”
“I don’t know where we’re going. You could be a serial killer.”
I stopped at the door. “Seriously?”
“Jeffery Dahmer was one of the nicest guys on the planet. People loved him. And I listen to this podcast all about murder. It’s pretty scary out there, you know.”
“Not you too.”
Her eyes got huge and gleeful. “You listen too?”
“God, no. My sister is addicted though.”
“Oh. Well, she has wonderful taste. Fellow Murderinos unite.”
She was unbelievable. “Do you have your phone on you?”
She tapped her front pocket.
“Then we’re all good. As for the other… Well, I promise there’s only drums, a heavy bag, and a very nice wine cellar in my basement.”
She tipped her chin up to meet my gaze. “Heavy bag?”
“Yeah, like boxers use.”
“Oh, I know what one is. I have one.” She pushed her way out the door and gave the purple-haired woman a wave from the sidewalk.
“You have one?”
“I was raised by my dad. He wanted me to be able to defend myself. I also picture difficult customers’ faces on the bag. Great stress relief.”
“Is that right?” I gestured for her to head down Santa Monica Boulevard. “Has my face been on there?”
She sipped her coffee. “Oh, yeah.”
I laughed. I’d asked for that response.
“Where are we headed?”
“To my Jeep.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I was hoping for a ride in the penis car.”
I pulled the cup away from my face. “The what?”
“Penis car. Only men with below-average penises generally have those cars. Or ones that aren’t very…virile.” Again, she peered up at me. “I know you have a sizable penis.”
I choked on another sip of coffee. I should’ve just known by now to not drink in front of her. “And how do you know that?”
“Remember, I sort of…” She winced.
I held up a hand. As if I needed the reminder from the other day. “Yeah, we’re good there. You have an impressive grip.” And under better circumstances, I would’ve enjoyed it. Mid cat attack, falling, and wounded pride with a side of bruising fingers had not been a great first meet for her and my cock.
I was hoping the second introduction would go better, but I was beginning to wonder. She was a little brute.
“I was a race car driver, you know.”
“Yes. I guess you could call that the biggest penis car of them all.”
“Some people may have been compensating, but mostly we just like the thrill of speed and attempting to control something wild.” Well, if that wasn’t a parallel to today’s endeavors.
And that was enough self-analysis for one day. This was just supposed to be fun.
“And then there’s the need to challenge ourselves,” I continued. “To best our own time and push to the next level.” I was talking far too much.
Especially about this subject, one I rarely delved into with anyone. I barely knew this woman.
“Hmm. I can see that. Especially after I watched a few videos of your Formula One races last night. I don’t know much about it, but I was expecting it to be more like NASCAR, I guess.”
I willed myself not to stiffen up. It was natural she’d have questions. It wasn’t as if she knew I preferred not to talk about my racing days. From this conversation so far, she certainly wouldn’t have known. However, NASCAR references were unacceptable. “Um, no. Not in the least.”
“No. And you were damn good. I don’t know how you fit into the car though. Looks more like a bullet with wheels.”
I laughed despite myself. “That’s as good as an analogy as any.” I braced myself for the inevitable question about why I stopped, but she didn’t seem inclined to ask.
She was too busy looking around at the pedestrian traffic. So much so that I began to relax as we companionably finished off our coffee.
With a sad sigh, I tossed my empty cup before urging her into the parking garage.
“I will pack you up some beans for the next time.”
“What?”
“Beans. For coffee?”
“Oh. I’m not sure it’ll taste the same as how you make it.”
“Well, probably not, but better than nothing.”
“You’re worth the ride over. I’ll just be two-fisting it when I leave from now on.”
The corner of her mouth kicked up.
“You have a dirty mind.”
“Well, you probably do need two hands for your…situation.”
“My situation?” My eyebrows shot up. “You make it sound like a disease.”
“I’m sure more men would like to be afflicted. Especially my last boyfriend.”
I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of her and a boyfriend. That was insane, but I still didn’t like it.
“And this boyfriend of yours didn’t help with your…education.”
“God, no. He pretty much was a roll on and roll off kinda guy. Obviously, I didn’t inspire any extra credit activity on his part.” She peered up at me. “Is that how most men are?”
“Only the selfish pricks.” I aimed my remote at my Jeep.
“Well, he didn’t have much of a prick to speak of. Not a huge loss.” She skipped forward, her heels snapping on the cement floor. “Oh, see this isn’t just a Jeep. This is a Rubicon. I should have know
n you’d have the badass version, not the family kind.” She dragged the tips of her fingers along the gunmetal gray side panel. “Can I drive?”
“No.”
She sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. The only one who drives my cars is me.”
She opened her door before I could do it for her. She frowned at me as I came up beside her and held the door. “I got it.”
“Didn’t anyone teach manners to the men around you?”
She scrunched up her face. “I guess my dad has some, but he’s more of a ‘Throw me that wrench, honey,’ sort of guy than the kind who opens car doors for women.”
“Your dad is a mechanic?”
“More like weekend warrior. He just knows how to fix stuff. Houses, cars, boats, paint, roofing. Jack-of-all-trades. Only his name is Frank.”
The way she strung together words was fascinating. Like a rambling stream of consciousness in her own Piper style.
“Sounds like I’d get along with Frank. Being a former grease monkey myself.”
“Oh?”
I’d walked into that one. Instead of opening the door for more of an autopsy into my soul, I shrugged. “I like cars.”
“Yeah, but the last one I saw you in was more computer than car.”
“True. But it goes damn fast.” I winked at her. “Now get those delicious legs in the car, kitten.”
She actually listened to me for once and swung them inside. Instead of waiting for her to ask another question, I shut the door and went around the back of my Rubicon to the driver’s side.
She was wiggling her butt into her seat. “It smells like leather and boy in here.”
“Sweat?”
“No. Just…man. You, I guess. But mostly leather.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath with a low groan. “I thought my nose was broken until I met you. Coffee kinda took over my life.” Her eyes fluttered open. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing.” I leaned over toward her side of the car and flipped a lock above her head.
“I think it’s something.”
“Maybe you’re not as clueless as you think you are, huh?” I spoke low against her ear before punching the lever for the top of the Jeep all the way open.
