Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1)

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Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1) Page 18

by Jessica Prince


  We each sat in silent contemplation for what felt like forever before I finally stood. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Yeah, same here. You’ll call me if you need anything, right?” she asked as we headed out of the office and down the hall. In my rush to get to a yelling Navie earlier, I’d completely forgotten to close the door to my sewing room. It hadn’t dawned on me that I’d left it wide open until Navie’s entire body froze, mid-step, on a loud gasp.

  “Oh, uh…” I stumbled when I caught sight of what had grabbed hold of her attention and refused to let it go. “That’s just something I’ve been working on in my free time.”

  “You made that?!” she asked in awe. “What’s it for?” As she spoke, she headed straight toward the mannequin that held the wedding dress. Her fingers ran across lace bodice so gently her touch seemed almost reverent.

  “Well, I don’t have any definitive plans for it. It’s just an idea that popped into my head when Rowan proposed to you. It’s not finished—”

  I was interrupted by an eardrum-piercing squeal. “You mean that’s for me?!” She hopped from foot to foot as she stared at the dress adoringly. “I actually get to wear that on my wedding day?”

  “I guess… I mean, if you want to. Like I said, it was just an idea. I didn’t expect—”

  She cut me off again, shouting “I want to!” so loudly I had to take a step back.

  “Well, okay. Then I guess you have a wedding gown.”

  She pulled me into another tight Navie Hug as she danced around excitedly. Her enthusiasm was so contagious that I actually found myself smiling broadly, the sour feeling that had been lingering in my stomach since sitting down to talk about Griffin began to shrink.

  By the time she left, after setting up a time to come in for a fitting, I felt better than I had in days. Where I’d been walking around on autopilot before, I was beginning to find myself actually engaging with the people who came in and out of Fire & Ice.

  At a quarter to three the bell over the door chimed and I turned on my heels to great the latest customer. My eyes grew round in surprise and Tomas chuckled from somewhere behind me, his tone hushed as he stated, “Well this day just got a lot more interesting.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that.

  “CHANCE!”

  I knew my voice was far too high pitched when Tomas leaned in and whispered under his breath, “Simmer down, girly. Any higher and only dogs will be able to hear you.”

  “Hi,” he smiled sheepishly. “I know it’s a little presumptuous to just show up here and ask you out again after my texts went unanswered, but I figured I’d give it one last shot. I swear I’m not crazy. If you tell me you’re not interested, I’ll go away. I just couldn’t not try again. I’d have to kick my own ass if I didn’t take a chance and you’d have said yes.”

  At the way his cheeks grew pink with nerves after his endearing speech, I was instantly reminded of just how good looking the guy was. I’d have to be blind not to notice him. He had a strong, chiseled jawline. There was a charming curve in his otherwise perfect nose, as though it’d been broken in the past. His blonde hair was mixed with light and dark streaks, not the kind you purchase at a salon, but ones you get from being in the sun, and the golden glow of his skin could attest to that as well. He as tall, well built, and when he smiled, he did it openly, without reservations.

  The only problem was, I didn’t feel that flutter in my belly I got when I looked at Griffin. My blood didn’t run hot. My fingers didn’t itch to reach out and touch him.

  I shook my head in an attempt to rid it of the melancholy creeping back in. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I just blew you off like that. It was never my intention. I just… things kind of got… complicated,” I finished pathetically.

  “Ah,” he nodded, one side of his mouth tipping up. “The dreaded ‘c’ word. I understand.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I repeated quietly, suddenly feeling like the worst kind of person for not only blowing off, but also turning down, a man who seemed nothing but genuinely sweet. I had no doubt that had the women on Manhattan known I’d rejected such a fine specimen, I’d have been stoned in the streets.

  “No worries,” he replied. “I just appreciate your honesty.” Closing the last few feet between us, he reached for the hand hanging limp at my side and brought it up, brushing a kiss across my knuckles. “It’s been lovely meeting you, Pepper. I hope whatever has complicated your life recently sorts itself out.”

  Just as his hand reached out and grasped the door handle my mouth opened and words started flying out of their own accord. “Wait. I…” When he turned back around, looking hopeful, I wanted to hit myself. I hadn’t stopped him for what he’d expected, I just hoped that what I had to offer was enough.

  “Look, you seem like a really nice guy… like, unbelievably nice. Seriously, I feel like the meanest person in the world, turning you down, that’s how nice you are.”

  His hearty laughter rang through the boutique, the rich, enticing sound enveloped me, and I found myself thinking that Chance would, no doubt, make someone woman very happy one day. “But things are complicated,” he repeated my earlier words.

  “Yes, they are. But… if you’re ever looking to broaden your circle of friends, I’m told I’m a pretty good one.”

  “If you keep her stocked in oatmeal crème pies!” Tomas declared, uncaring of the fact he was eavesdropping.

  I found myself grinning as Chance laughed again. “If you don’t mind being placed firmly in the friend-zone, my friends and I are a pretty fun crowd. You could do a lot worse, believe me.”

  He turned on his heels and headed back in my direction. “You know what? I think I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Great!” I exclaimed, reaching out to shake his hand. “Maybe we can do coffee or something one day. Friends do that all the time.”

  “Just give me a time and place,” he answered on an attractive grin as he returned my gesture and took my hand, shaking it lightly. Damn it! Why can’t I feel friggin’ butterflies around this guy? “I’ll see you around, friend.”

  “See you around, Chance.”

  He lifted my hand and placed one more kiss on my knuckles before turning and exiting the shop.

  “Damn, baby girl,” Tomas breathed behind me. “If you can get that man to play for my team, just one game, I’ll leave everything I own to you in my will.”

  HE KISSED HER HAND.

  That fucker kissed her hand! Not once, but twice.

  And she fucking liked it!

  It had taken every single ounce of self-restraint not to bust through the door of Fire & Ice and rip the son of a bitch’s lips right off his face. The image of her smiling, laughing face through as that bastard kissed her hand had played on a continuous loop in my head for the past two hours. My rage grew with every passing second until it was radiating from every pore, warning everyone around to give me a wide berth. My laser focus was on one task, and one task only. Finding out who the fuck Chance Hoffman was and hunting him down.

  “What’d that keyboard ever do to you?” Dex asked, speaking to me of his own volition for the first time in three days. To say his refusal to talk to me was creating a serious pain in the ass at work was an understatement.

  “Nothing,” I grunted as I continued to pound away on the keys, taking my frustrations out on the poor, defenseless letters.

  He stood up moments later and rounded our desks and I assumed he was getting himself a cup of coffee or something. That was, until he spoke again, this time from right behind me.

  “You’re doing a Google search on Chance Hoffman? The dude who asked Pepper out? What the fuck, man?”

  “Not your concern,” I muttered as I continued scrolling through anything I could find.

  “Let’s go,” Dex said, reaching over and hitting the button on my monitor, turning the screen black.

  “What the hell?!” I spun around in my chair, ready for a fight if that’s what it came to, but his face was
completely relaxed.

  “Time for a break. Let’s go grab a coffee. We need to talk.”

  Rubbing at my exhausted eyes, I gave in and stood from my desk. I was dead on my feet, physically drained from lack of sleep, and my head had been in a fog for days. I didn’t have it in me to argue with Dex. I followed him to the bodega around the corner that looked like it should have been closed down by the health department years ago, but made some of the best fucking coffee I’d ever had.

  “You look like shit,” he offered once we had our cups in hand.

  “Really? ‘Cause I don’t think I’ve ever felt better,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from ever word. “Look, if you dragged me out here just to give me shit about Pepper, I don’t fucking need it, okay?”

  “I don’t think you’re good enough for her.”

  Fuck me. And the hits just keep coming. “Pretty sure I got that loud and clear, man,” I replied dryly.

  “Then again, I’ve never thought anyone was good enough. So I guess if my baby sis is finally looking to settle down, I figure I’ll sleep better at night if she’s with someone I’d trust with my life than a stranger I’d probably have to threaten while cleaning my gun.”

  My feet immediately stopped working as I blinked after him. When he realized I was no longer walking next to him, he stopped and turned around. “Don’t fuck with me man,” I warned. “I’m going on almost forty-eight hours with little-to-no sleep. If you’re messing with me, I swear to Christ, I’m gonna shoot you.”

  “Not messing with you,” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I swear. Pepper and Wendy both laid into my ass, made me see that I have a tendency to be a dick. Truth is, if you’re serious about Pepper I’m happy for you, brother.”

  I resumed walking as I answered, “Yeah well, only problem is your sister’s always been a bit more stubborn than most people. She refuses to answer my calls or respond to my texts. After that shit show with Kat, she’s convinced I was just playing games.” I turned my head and leveled him with a murderous glare. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  He winced before defending, “Hey, that wasn’t me. It was all Wendy. But I swear, if we’d have known, that never would have gone down. I’m sorry. And I’ll help in whatever way I can. But just so you know, she’s probably not talking to me right now, either.”

  All of a sudden, it was like a light bulb went off. “That’s all right. I think I’ve got something else in mind.”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  I looked at my partner and grinned. “Time to run a background check on Mr. Hoffman.”

  The last thing I heard as we pushed through the doors of the station was his muttered, “Ah, hell.”

  “I’M SORRY… YOU WANT me to what?” Richard asked in astonishment.

  It couldn’t have worked out more beautifully if I’d planned it myself. Turned out that Chance Hoffman was an attorney at none other than Whitfield, Sherman, and Miller. The same law firm my cousin Richard worked at. After discovering that little gem, I decided that I hadn’t seen my cousin in far too long and texted to see if he wanted to meet for a beer after work the following day. I was on day four of no contact from Pepper. If I didn’t get this shit straightened out soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

  “It’s not like I want you to threaten the guy or anything. Just warn him off. Convince him Pepper’s got some antibiotic resistant disease or something, I don’t know, just… think of something!”

  Richard downed the rest of his beer before waving at the bartender for another round. “You realize we’re all adults now, right?”

  “You’re hilarious,” I deadpanned. “Are you gonna help me out or not?”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “Why do you even want me to do this? I know you two hate each other, but convincing a guy who’s interested in her that she’s got an incurable STD seems a little low, even for you.”

  “It doesn’t have to be an STD. It could be Ebola or something. That made a comeback recently, didn’t it? I think I remember seeing shit all over the news about it. And we don’t hate each other. We’re actually together… or at least we were. But this jack-hole, Hoffman is interested in her, and I can’t have him sniffing around while I’m trying to win her back.”

  “Wait… you two were together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You and Pepper?”

  I felt my frustration at his perplexed expression growing by the second as I ground out another, “Yes.”

  “Pepper O’Malley.”

  “For fuck’s sake. Yes, Richard!”

  “The same Pepper who once told you that getting a vasectomy should be your legal obligation in order to spare future generations the suffering of having to deal with your future offspring? That Pepper?”

  “She can be a little… hostile at times,” I defended.

  Richard rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “So are you gonna help me or not?”

  “I don’t know if I should,” he surmised. I had to curl my fingers around the edge of the bar until my knuckles turned white to keep from lunging at him. I was pretty sure his mom wouldn’t be too happy with me if I murdered one of her sons.

  “Why not?” I asked through clenched teeth? The muscle ticking in my jaw.

  “Well, if she broke up with you, then she’s fair game. And if she’s really interested in Chance and wants to move on, who am I to deny her what she wants?” the smug bastard finished with a grin.

  “She doesn’t want him, trust me. It was just a tiny misunderstanding. We’re going through a rough patch, that’s all. Everyone has them. If you think about it, allowing her to go out with Chance while she’s still carrying a torch for me is negligence on your part. You could have prevented the poor man from getting his heart broken when we inevitably get back together, but instead, you took the low road and acted like a shit head. Careless, Councilor,” I tsked. “Very careless.”

  He opened his mouth to rebut when both of our phones sounded with incoming texts. I shifted on the barstool to pull mine from my back pocket as Richard whipped his out of his jacket.

  “Well, looks like this whole conversation was pointless,” he said as his eyes danced across the screen of his phone, his forehead creasing in what appeared to be concern.

  “Why’s that?” I asked as I slid my thumb across the screen of my phone and saw it was a mass text from Navie. I began reading at the same time Richard answered. “Because Pepper’s in the hospital.”

  “THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” I pouted and I leaned back into the uncomfortable, paper-thin mattress on the hospital bed. I started to cross my arms over my chest when a sharp pain radiated through my shoulder, reminding me of why I was in the hospital in the first place.

  “It’s not ridiculous,” Navie admonished. “Now, for God’s sake, stop being difficult!”

  “I’m not being difficult,” I argued and watched as Rowan pulled an increasingly agitated Navie back against his chest.

  “You were mugged,” she stated bluntly. “You refused to give up your purse and the guy beat the hell out of you—”

  “I’d hardly say he beat the hell out of me,” I scoffed, unwisely.

  “He hit you in the face twice and knocked you out cold. He nearly dislocated your shoulder. What the fuck would you call it?!” my brother thundered from his place in the corner of my hospital room. Wendy was wrapped around his side, like she knew just how close to losing it my brother was.

  I winced as my brother’s words echoed through my skull, and not because of the killer headache I had thanks to my asshole mugger… well, not completely anyway. I also felt terrible. One thing my dad and brother had always drilled into my head was, that if I were ever being mugged to give up my purse without a fight. The very first time I got mugged on the streets of Manhattan, what did I do? I fought. Like an idiot.

  And all I got to show for it was a face covered in bruises, a shoulder that hurt like a mother fu
cker, and six stitches in my forehead from being pistol whipped by my assailant’s gun. When I shared that tidbit of information with Dex and stupidly informed him that, seeing as the guy had a gun in the first place, it could have been much worse, I thought that tiny vein pulsing in his forehead was going to explode. If my brother was that pissed at what I’d done, I could only imagine how bad I was going to get it from my father.

  After regaining consciousness—I was only out for a few minutes—police were on the scene, and I was being loaded onto a gurney. Luckily there were still a handful of bystanders in New York who were willing to call 911 when a person was being robbed right in front of them. Despite my protests that I didn’t need to go to the hospital—especially by ambulance—the paramedics insisted, seeing as I’d blacked out for an undetermined amount of time.

  I’d called Navie from the hospital when I got there: one, because I didn’t want everyone and their dog to find out what had happened, and I trusted her to keep her mouth shut—a mistake, and two, because hers was the only number I had memorized.

  Apparently, while I’d been getting an MRI and having my forehead stitched closed, my so-called best friend had taken it upon herself to mass text our entire circle of friends. So much for not worrying people. By the time the nurse got me back to my room, my brother, Wendy, Rowan, Navie, and Tomas were all waiting for me, looking none-too-happy seeing as Navie had filled them in on my refusal to relinquish my Michael Kohrs bag when I had the chance.

  They’d spent the last ten minutes in different states of upset as they let me know just how many years I’d taken off each of their lives. Between their guilt and the officers coming in to ask questions about the mugging, I’d started to hope for a big, gaping hole to open up and swallow me whole. At least that way I’d get some damn peace and quiet.

  When the door to my room flew open just moments after I shot up my silent prayer, a deep frown settled across my sore face, and I knew God was looking down at me and laughing his ass off.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What were you thinking?” Griffin bellowed as he stalked into the room, followed closely by Richard Locklaine, Rowan’s twin brother. The fierceness of his tone startled a jump out of me, and my gaze quickly flew around the room looking for someone who’d jump to my defense in the heat of Griffin’s unexpected anger. No such luck. The women in the room looked somewhat startled by his aggressive demeanor, while the men simply looked like they agreed with him, wholeheartedly… even the damned uniform officers who’d just finished taking my statement.

 

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