“Mmmhmm,” he eyed me skeptically. “I know you’re lying to me, Pepper O’Malley. I can sniff a lie out from a mile away.”
“That’s what you said last week about Channing Tatum. And about knockoff designer handbags the week before that.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I know you’re hiding something, and I’m gonna find out what.”
He gave me an exaggerated snap, causing me to roll my eyes. “Okay, Tomas. You’re a regular blood hound. Now do your job and handle the front of the store. I’ll be in the back for a few hours. Holler if you need anything.”
“You got it, boss lady. Go get your creativity on. I got this up here.”
That was another thing I loved about Tomas. He might have given me shit on a semi-regular basis, but he was the best employee I’d had since opening Fire & Ice. I couldn’t have managed the store without him. When I was out sick, or overwhelmed, or just needed a few hours of complete silence, I knew I could count on him to run my boutique like a well-oiled machine.
Making my way down the long hall in the back, past the break room and office, I used my key to open the door to my own personal sanctuary. My sewing room was where I put my imagination to use and created pieces for just myself. Some I wore, some hung in the back of my cramped closet, much to Tomas’s indignation. I never had any intentions of putting my designs in the front of the boutique. They weren’t for sale.
Some people worked out to relieve stress, some ate, others meditated or went to therapy. I had my sewing room. Creating new pieces and putting needle to thread was cathartic to me. I didn’t need anything else as long as I was able to sew. And for the first time in my life, I was working on something for someone else.
Closing the door, I walked over to the mannequin that held my latest creation—and my best to date, if I did say so myself. I couldn’t wait to finish. It was by far, the best thing I’d ever made. I twisted my hair up into a knot at the crown of my head and got to work, losing myself in the motions as the minutes began to tick by. But instead of having my mind on the dress in front of me, my thoughts kept drifting to somewhere else. Spurred on by Griffin’s strange behavior at Rowan and Navie’s the night before, I couldn’t help but think about the past, a place I’d have been happy to avoid.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem I was going to get my way.
Past
DEX WAS HOME!
It wasn’t something I’d ever admit out loud, but I missed my big brother like crazy when he was away at college. Since starting at NYU a few years ago, he hardly ever came home. I missed having someone to torment on a regular basis. We’d always been close, so I felt the loss of him deeply.
Skipping down the stairs, I rushed the front door just as he pushed it open against a frigid gust of wind. “Sis!” he called as he stepped into the doorway.
“Bub!” I threw myself off the last step, into Dex’s strong arms.
“Missed you a little bit, bean pole.”
“Missed you a little bit, too, loser” I mumbled into his chest.
Just as I pulled from our embrace, the front door was shoved back once again. I heard a deep, gritty voice call out, “Thanks for the help with our bag, douche.”
The man who’d just walked through the door was something out of the romance novels I’d stolen off my mom’s bookshelf. I was mesmerized. I was pretty sure it was love at first sight. Not that I had much experience with it, but I’d heard Jenny Muller talking about how she loved her boyfriend, Tommy, during second period last week, and it felt just like this. So it had to be love, right? I was so hypnotized that I hardly even noticed the second guy walking in behind my future husband.
“Guys, meet my little sis, Pepper. Pep, these are my friends, Griffin and Rowan.”
I couldn’t speak, for fear of swallowing my tongue. Griffin. God, even his name was something out of my mom’s romance books! I had to be dreaming. No man was that handsome in real life.
“Nice to meet you,” the guy Dex had introduced as Rowan spoke, but I only had eyes for the walking, talking fantasy in front of me.
“H-hi,” I stuttered, feeling my cheeks heat uncomfortably the longer I stared.
He gave me a super cool chin lift and said, “What’s up, Red?”
What’s up, Red? That was it. That was the extent of our conversation, because just as quickly as he’d regarded me, he dismissed me and looked back at my brother. “So where are we crashing?”
“Up the stairs. Second door on the left.”
Without so much as a backward glance, Griffin and Rowan headed up the stairs. It felt like a large, gaping hole had opened up in my chest the moment I lost sight of him. He hadn’t even realized I existed. But what was I supposed to expect? He was a grown-up, he was gorgeous, and I was all knobby knees and pointy elbows. I was sure he went for pretty girls with long legs, blonde hair, and big boobs. I didn’t have any of that. My chest looked like I’d been stung by bees, I couldn’t control my frizzy red hair, and I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup yet because my mom was totally lame.
Spinning around, I shot Dex and evil glare before reaching up and twisting his nipple. “Ah!” He cried out as he stumbled out of my reach. “What the hell was that for?!”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing friends?” I hissed, waiving my hands in front of my sweat pants and ratty t-shirt. “I look like a total dork.”
With a laugh, Dex reached up and ruffled my hair in that playful way that always annoyed the crap out of me. “Hate to break it to ya, kiddo, but you are a dork.”
“Am not!” I argued.
Dex leaned down and grabbed his duffle bag, then stood straight and ruffled my hair, again. “Stop doing that,” I grumbled, slapping at his hands. “You’re gonna make my hair look stupid in front of your friends!”
“Too late,” he teased, only that joke hit me square in the chest, leaving behind a sharp stinging pain that made my eyes water.
“You’re such a jerk,” I muttered as I stomped passed him.
“Aw, come on, sis. I was just teasing.”
But the damage was already done. I was a pre-teen after all, and a girl to boot. If you asked my dad, only three mood swings in a twenty-four hour period made for a good day.
“I don’t care! It wasn’t funny!” And with that, I stormed out of the front hall and into the kitchen, heading for the pantry like my life depended on it. It wasn’t until I was back in my bedroom, unwrapping the oatmeal crème pie in my hand that my anger and embarrassment began to lessen.
I was too humiliated from my first meeting with Griffin to try and start up a conversation for the rest of Thanksgiving break, but later that week, as Dex and his friends backed out of my parents’ driveway, I swore to myself that the next time I laid eyes on Griffin Locklaine, I was going to make him notice me.
Present
BY THE TIME I walked out of my sewing room a few hours later, my headache was gone and my mood had improved substantially. I still couldn’t figure out what kind of game Griffin was playing, but my determination to not be any part of it gave me a sense of security.
He could play all the stupid, childish games he wanted. That didn’t mean I had to stoop to his level. I was a grown-up for Christ’s sake. I was mature, damn it.
“Well look at you,” Tomas cooed as I came out into the front of the shop. “You’re looking a lot less The Walking Dead-ish.”
I cut him a side-eyed look. “Remind me, why I keep you around again?” I asked sarcastically.
He tapped his chin in mock-thought. “Hmm. It could be because of my impeccable fashion sense… or, no, what about my stunning good looks? Oh! I know, it’s because of my glowing personality…”
God only knew how long he could have kept going. Fortunately, the bell over the front door chimed, alerting us to the new customer that had just walked through. A tall, well-dressed man wandered in, his eyes honed in to the front of his tailored, button-down shirt where it looked like an entire cup of coffee had been spilled.
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br /> “Welcome to Fire & Ice. Can I help you find something?”
The man’s head came up, his smiling brown eyes looking right at me before scanning through the boutique. “Uh… I’m starting to think you can’t,” he answered lightly. “Unless you happen to have any men’s dress shirts in the back you’re keeping hidden?”
I smiled sympathetically. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” he sighed as he looked around the shop containing only women’s clothes. “I was afraid of that.” He cut his gaze back to the coffee stain before looking at me and lifting his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I was on my way to court when a woman wielding a huge Starbucks cup decided she couldn’t walk and talk on her cell phone at the same time. My shirt was the unfortunate casualty in that run-in.”
Tomas cleared his throat annoyingly loud. Drawing everyone’s attention. “Sorry boss lady, but did you forget the few men’s dress shirts we keep stocked in the back room?”
Oh no he didn’t.
“You must be mistaken,” I answered as professionally as possible even though I struggled not to choke him out right then and there. “We don’t keep men’s shirts stocked here.”
He feigned confusion, tilting his head to the side. “Really? I could have sworn I saw some back there just the other day. You know, in the sewing room?” I never should have shown Tomas the clothing I made. The asshole wasn’t going to rest until I started making money off of my designs.
“Uh…” the handsome stranger muttered, breaking the stare-off Tomas and I were currently battling in. “I’m not really sure what’s going on right now, but if you have a shirt back there I’d be willing to pay whatever you want. Seriously. I can’t walk into a courtroom like this.” He held his arms out to the side and I couldn’t help but feel pity for the guy. He just looked so sincere. And desperate. If I were being honest, it was actually quite adorable.
I swallowed down the defeated sigh that bubbled up and waved him on. “Come on. I’ve got something that might work for you.”
“Oh, thank God,” he breathed. Adorable.
He and Tomas both followed me back to my sewing room. The man came in while Tomas hung back, propping a shoulder on the doorframe. I walked over to the shelving along the side wall and grabbed one of the few shirts I’d made when I got a wild hair to try making men’s clothing. “Here you go. This might work.”
“Thanks so much. You’re a life saver.” He took the shirt from my hands and his attention shifted around the room to the mannequin in the corner. “You’re getting married?” he asked, pointing at the dress I’d been working on.
“Oh, no,” I laughed. “That’s just something I’m making.”
“So you’re not engaged then?”
My cheeks heated at the endearing smile that stretched across his face. “No. I’m not engaged.”
Tomas chose that moment to snort from his place in the doorway. “Little Miss Thang here is totally single.” As I watched the smile stretch even further on the man’s face, the desire to smother my employee in his sleep lessened. That was, until the bastard spoke again.
“So, court, huh?” Tomas cut in. “You get a DWI? Or did you stop paying child support?”
“Neither. I’m an attorney.”
“Will you shut up?” I ground out between clenched teeth, walking over and elbowing Tomas in the ribs before looking back at the man. “I’m sorry,” I offered. “He’s not properly trained to be around people.” The smile that curved his attractive face revealed two rows of straight, white teeth. With his blond hair and brown eyes, he was like a life-sized Ken doll.
Undeterred, my friend, and soon to be ex-employee, continued. “Ah. Criminal defense? Getting the scum back on the streets?”
“Tomas!” I scolded, but the man just laughed it off. It was a really nice laugh.
He just shrugged. “What?”
“That’s rude,” I ground out.
“No, no,” the man interrupted just as I was about to rip Tomas a new asshole. “It’s all right. I get that all the time, I’m used to it. And just an FYI, I’m a prosecutor.”
“So you’re poor,” Tomas stated, earning a smack in the back of his head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I seethed.
“You don’t have to hit so hard!” he whined, reaching up to fix his still perfectly-styled pompadour. “This look doesn’t just roll out of bed, you know.” He shot the man in front of us a skeptical look. “And to answer your question, I see lover boy here, making googly eyes at you. I needed to make sure he didn’t have a record or live in his grandma’s basement before he asked you out.”
My cheeks got even hotter and I knew my face was only a few shades lighter than my hair. I was two seconds away from committing a serious felony. In front of a prosecutor, no less!
“You don’t know that—” I started, but Mr. Ken Doll cut me off.
“He’s right. I was totally planning on asking you out. And if it makes you feel any better,” he addressed Tomas, “the only thing on my record is a fine for public intoxication I got back in college. I have my own apartment in NoHo, I’m debt free, and I’d like to think I make a reasonably decent income.”
His face was just so open and relaxed that I felt myself smiling despite any awkward tension created by my so-called friend. It definitely helped matters that he was drop dead gorgeous. And not Griffin. Bonus.
He looked back at me and held out one large hand. “I’m Chance Hoffman,” he offered. “And if I’ve passed your friend’s inspection, I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner with me.”
I felt my cheeks pinch as my smile grew even wider and I reached out to shake Chance’s hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Pepper O’Malley.”
“Pepper.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I like that. It suits you. So… dinner?”
“Sure,” I nodded, my hand still shaking his. “I’d like that.” And I meant it. My head might have been a mess thanks to Griffin, but that didn’t mean Chance’s offer wasn’t flattering. And what woman in her right mind didn’t want to feel desirable?
“Well, not that it matters, since you’ve already accepted,” Tomas chimed in, his voice laced with annoyance. “But I approve, btw.”
“Don’t care,” I returned as Chance released my hand to pull his cellphone from his jacket pocket. We traded numbers and by the time he left, I had an additional seventy bucks in the register—Tomas jumped on it when Chance asked what he owed for the shirt—and was feeling surprisingly optimistic.
You know what they say. The best way to get over a man is to get with another one. And the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
BY THE TIME I got home later than evening all I wanted to do was pour myself a glass of wine, dig into my box of oatmeal crème pies, and soak in a bubble bath before finally dragging myself to bed and passing out.
I only got steps one and two completed, and was just sitting down in the tub to enjoy step three when my cellphone chimed with an incoming text.
Thinking it could possibly be from Chance, I reached over and lifted my phone from the folded towel resting on the closed toilet. At the sight of the name on the screen my belly fluttered. And it wasn’t that new, excited kind of flutter a woman gets when a guy shows interest. I felt butterflies when Chance asked me out earlier—what woman wouldn’t feel that for a handsome man? What I was feeling right then was like a swarm of hummingbirds, so much more intense. And it was because the name on the phone wasn’t Chance… it was Griffin. That both thrilled me and angered me simultaneously.
Him: What r u doin?
I didn’t respond. I was too busy staring, flabbergasted at my phone screen. A minute passed, maybe more when it chimed again, startling a jump from me. Water sloshed around me as I clicked on the new message.
Him: U there?
Knowing he wouldn’t stop unless I shut him down, I began typing and hit send.
Me: Go away.
Him: Oh, good. Ur up. I thought u might b sleeping.
Me: In the bath. Go. Away.
I waited for a response… then I waited some more. When a few minutes passed and I got no response I figured he’d given up. Instead of feeling relief as I’d expected, my heart sank in disappointment.
Until I heard a knock at my door.
“What the hell?” Standing from the tub, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my body, bubbles still clinging to my legs as I made my way down the hall. Just as I exited the mouth of the hall another knock sounded. “I’m coming!” I called out, standing on my tiptoes to look out the peephole. “You’ve got to be friggin kidding me!”
“Nope, not kidding!” Griffin spoke from the other side. “Now open the door, sweetness.”
I threw the chain, twisted the lock, and pulled the door opened as I ignored the hummingbirds and focused on giving him my best evil glare. “What are you doing here?”
“Fuck me,” he groaned as those ice blue eyes I’d always been drawn to scanned the length of my damp, soapy body. “Jesus Christ, Pepper! You can’t answer the door dressed like that!”
Before I could formulate a cutting remark, his big, calloused hand came out and pressed into the center of my chest, pushing me back into my apartment. He stepped in after me and kicked the door closed behind him. “What the hell? I didn’t invite you in here. You can’t just barge in to my place, Griff.”
“Go get dressed, sweetness.”
“Stop bossing me around!” I stamped my foot. The move jostled the tenuous hold on my towel and I had to scramble to save it before I showed him something I didn’t want him to see. “Damn it,” I mumbled as I tucked one side into the other and held on tightly.
Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1) Page 4
