by Jiffy Kate
“Welcome—” Carys starts, then stops when she looks up and sees it’s me. “Oh, hey, Shep. Welcome back. Mav’s in the office.” Pointing over her shoulder, she goes back to whatever work is in front of her.
They really do make a great team.
“Thanks,” I tell her, stopping for a cold glass of water and a macaron. Taking one bite, I moan my appreciation. “Oh, man,” I mumble around the flaky cookie. “So good.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You should really eat something more nutritious for breakfast.”
I want to be crude and tell her I had CeCe for breakfast, but I opt for a safer route.
“Wait, macaron isn’t a food group?” I ask, teasing as I walk behind her and pull her blonde braid.
Her foot makes contact with my shin and I wince. Should have seen that coming. “Shit, Carys,” I groan, leaning over to rub at the sore spot as I open the door to the office. “You know I’m old now. You have to take it easy on me.”
“Are you bothering my woman?” Maverick mutters from behind the desk.
“She kicked me.”
“You deserved it.”
As I make myself at home in the leather chair across from him, I toss my arm across the back. “Fuck, it’s good to be home.”
“Home, huh?” Maverick asks, looking up from the computer with a sly smirk.
I remember when I came here for the first time. If I’m being honest, I was a little worried. Things at Kensington Properties were a bit volatile and I knew Mav was on the verge of losing his shit. So, imagine my concern when I called him up for lunch one day, only to be told he was gone and his receptionist wasn’t sure when he was coming back.
But this place was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Shit, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. If it hadn’t been for him finding the Blue Bayou and Carys Matthews, he would’ve never taken the leap to leave Kensington and we both would still be stuck back in Dallas working for our fathers and hating our lives.
As much as I enjoy the finer things in life and I do miss some of the amenities of my house in Dallas, New Orleans is growing on me…immensely. The more time I spend here, the more I feel relaxed. Things are different down here.
And I spoke the truth. It feels more like home here than anywhere else. Deep down, I know that has a lot to do with CeCe, but I’m not ready to go there just yet.
“Yeah, home,” I tell him with all seriousness. “Stop looking at me like that.”
He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no one is happier to hear you say that than me…just a little surprised is all. I thought it’d take you a little longer to adapt.”
“Well, being back in Dallas this past weekend helped speed up the process.”
“How was it?”
I raise an eyebrow in question, like he even has to ask. “It was Phillip and Jane. How do you think it was?”
“That bad, huh?”
Groaning, I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Worse, man. I knew it would be…tense,” I tell him, raising my head back up to look at him. “But I never dreamed they could be so…”
“Cruel?”
I let out a sigh and rest my elbows on my knees. “Cruel, pretentious assholes. I swear my mother still thinks I’m going to marry Felicity Crawford.” Just the mention of her name sends chills down my spine. “I thought I knew how bad they were, but it was different this time…I don’t know, taking CeCe there.” I pause, searching for the right way to explain it, but I come up short. “It was bad. We left early and flew back late last night.”
“Fuck,” Maverick says, running a hand down his face. “How’s CeCe?”
The smirk on my face is unavoidable and Maverick cocks his head.
“She’s good.”
“Really?” he asks, skeptical yet interested.
He has no idea just how good she is. But that’s my golden nugget of truth. Only mine.
“Yeah, she handled those assholes like a champ,” I tell him, shaking my head at the memory of her putting Felicity and Foster in their place, cutting them down a notch. And taking on my father, which I still want to know what he said to her. At every turn, she showed me what she’s made of—grit and determination and so much tenacity. An average person would’ve crumbled, but she didn’t, because she’s extraordinary.
When I look back up, Maverick is watching me with a knowing glint in his eyes, but he remains silent, fingers steepled at his chin.
“Okay, fucking Godfather, speak,” I demand when he starts creeping me out.
Standing from his chair, he walks over to the door and peeks out of it briefly before silently closing it and turning to me. For a second, I think I’m getting ready to get the third degree about something…maybe CeCe talked to Carys already about Dallas…or maybe even about us.
“I’m proposing to Carys,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper and when I go to congratulate him, he shushes me. “I want it to be a surprise and I thought it’d be fun to turn it into a celebration. She’ll want CeCe and Avery there, and you and Shaw, of course. I’ve already told Mary and George…they’ve known for a few days actually…and I’ll tell Jules. Well, right before it’s happening because that fucker can’t keep a secret to save his damn life.”
“About fucking time,” I tell him with a smile, standing to slap him on the shoulder and pull him in for a hug. Fuck that side hug shit, Mav and I go all in. “Happy for you, man.”
He pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. “I kinda owe it to you,” he says and I frown.
“Me?”
“Yeah, all this going to the courthouse and making shit happen. It got me thinking. I love this woman, more than life itself, so what the fuck am I waiting on?”
I nod, feeling him for the first time on this subject. In the past, he’s talked about Carys and how much he loves her and I’ve always thought good for him…at least one of us needs to find true love. But I never thought it would be me. I don’t do love. I don’t do fucking relationships. Well, I do the fucking part, just not the relationships.
Until now.
“I’m doing it tonight. Think you can get CeCe here?”
I simply nod again, afraid to open my mouth and have all my inner thoughts flying out before I can stop them. I think for the first time in my life, I actually know what love feels like.
Chapter 18
CeCe
“I thought you’d be a lot less…I don’t know, chipper?” Paige has been digging for information about the weekend ever since I walked into the shop three hours ahead of schedule. Mine and Shep’s original flight wasn’t supposed to arrive until noon, which would’ve put me back here no earlier than twelve-thirty, so I’d told Paige not to expect me before one.
“Why’s that?” I ask, restocking the pastries after a particularly busy morning rush. Amazingly enough, the place didn’t burn down while I was away…actually, everything looked exactly as if I was still here. Paige did well. “Isn’t everyone chipper after a couple of days away from work?”
“Everyone but you,” Paige says with a snorted laugh. “I figured you’d come in hot this morning, guns blazing. I mean, you were away for two days, which is the longest you’ve been away from this place in five years. I know we talked, but you sounded stressed when you called to check in, which I’m sure had something to do with being away, but it had to have been stressful meeting Shep’s parents for the first time. Are they rich? Like, really rich? I know how it was stressful when I finally met my boyfriend’s parents for the first time and they’re middle class all the way.”
When Paige gets on a roll like this, I just let her talk. Sometimes, by the time she gets to the end of her monologue, she doesn’t remember her original question and I get to avoid talking about things I’d rather not.
Besides, the stressfulness of the weekend seems light-years away this morning.
“Super rich,” I deadpan, not wanting to get into any of that. Although, her bringing up She
p’s parents does make me remember my conversation with Phillip during our dance last night. Was that really just last night? Wow. I think Shep’s dick made me lose track of time.
If Shep and his dick hadn’t kept me in bed so long this morning, I would’ve been here even earlier. But since I couldn’t resist him, I strolled in about ten, like I own the place. Oh, wait, I do. Seems I’m not only chipper, I’m also full of jokes.
It’s amazing what quenching a two-year dry spell will do for your psyche.
“So, it was good?” Paige asks, leaning her hip against the counter and pinning me with her stare. She’s obviously not going to give this up until I give her something.
Sighing, I stand and wipe my hands on my apron. “Yeah, I mean, as good as can be expected. Shep didn’t really give them time to adjust to the idea of him being married…so it was a little…tense. But nothing I couldn’t handle.” And that’s putting it mildly, but for some reason, I don’t want everyone to know Shep’s business.
And I’m definitely not telling her how amazing the sex was last night…and this morning. I’ve barely allowed myself time to process that tidbit of information. There were moments I felt like I was hallucinating or having an out-of-body experience—no way can that much pleasure be real. Then, there were other moments of complete clarity. It’s like the whole world was in high-def and I could see every detail and hear every sound and feel every sensation—Shep’s eyes, the planes of his body, his moans and whispers, and the way he felt…the way we felt. It was real and raw and somehow better than I remembered it.
Maybe it’s because he kept calling me his wife and the permanence that word brings. There’s this promise in his touches, like he’s silently telling me we have time. But how much? What happens at the end of our year?
There’s been a small voice telling me to look for the nearest exit. This is starting to feel too normal, too real. It got louder when we were leaving Dallas but spending the night in Shep’s bed drowned it out to a faint whisper.
Now, in the light of day, it’s back.
If it feels too good to be true, it usually is.
“CeCe!” Paige’s voice cuts through my thoughts and my head pops up as my eyes find hers.
“What?”
She smiles and shakes her head in bewilderment. “Where’d you go?”
“When?” I ask, blinking as I glance around to make sure there aren’t any customers waiting.
“Did something happen in Dallas that you’d like to share?”
Paige knows about my agreement with Shep, but not many of the details. I’ve put her in the same category as my mom and Rory—they’re all on a need to know basis. She doesn’t need to know that the Hurricane Shep wreaking havoc in my brain right now—is a category 5.
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m just in this weird limbo between being tired and wired…you know, early morning flights and too much coffee.”
“Okay,” she drawls. “Whatever you say, boss.”
As a few more customers filter in through the doors, we both go back to work and she drops the twenty questions. Maybe I need to think about working another employee into the budget. I think Paige suffers from lack of companionship when I’m not here.
Not that I plan on being gone anymore.
And then there’s that lingering problem with Theo…
About that time, the bell above the door chimes and in walks Jules. “Hey, hunties!”
Everyone in the shop turns to watch him sashay in, or according to Jules, he shantays. Of course, he looks as polished as always, sporting a suit that fits him like a glove and a loud ass tie. His complexion and brows are much more on point than mine. Come to think of it, I could use a Jules night in. We haven’t had one in a while and he makes the best homemade face masks.
“Hey, Jules,” Paige calls out with a wave as she delivers a drink to a customer.
He throws her a wink and a wave.
When he makes his way to the side of the bar, I meet him there and give him two air kisses, drinking in his decadent smell. I swear, he’s just good for my soul. As he pulls back, he grips my biceps, giving me a good, long look. “My, my. The Big D was good to my girl.”
I try to keep the blush at bay, but am betrayed.
“Spill. The. Tea.” Guiding me toward the stairs that lead up to my apartment, he calls out over his shoulder. “Paige, honey, cover the front.” When we’re out of earshot, he mutters, “We’ve got the back.”
Laughing, I turn to him and roll my eyes. “There’s no tea to spill.”
“And you’re a goddamn liar.”
Groaning, I pinch my eyes and turn away from him. “I hate you.”
“You love me, now spill.”
“Fine,” I say with a huff and then mumble, “the Big D was good to your girl.”
The slow, wide smile that takes over his face is bright enough to light up the dimly lit staircase. “I knew it…a couple of days away, locked up with a piece of meat like Shepard Rhys-Jones. Mmm.” When he bites his knuckle, I laugh again. “Tell me this double-dip was as good as the first time around.”
“Better,” I admit.
When he places his hand on his forehead and begins to plead, “Good Lord, give me strength,” I lose it.
“Is it weird I missed you?” I ask, adjusting his tie and then remembering the real reason he’s probably here. “Do you have any good news for me?”
His face drops and so does my stomach. “I wish I did,” he says with a sigh, stepping back to reach into his messenger bag for a sheet of paper. “One of my professors, who’s a lawyer, was able to dig a little deeper than I could on my own. He found that Theo has filed a will contest, stating he’s the heir-at-law. You’ll be receiving a notice from the court in the next few days and, CeCe,” he says, growing even more serious, especially for Jules, “you’re going to need to have as much documentation as possible. According to one of the lawyers at the office where he’s seeking legal counsel, he’s claiming he wasn’t properly notified after his father’s death and that according to the hand-written will on file with the state, he’s the next-of-kin.”
My heart stops.
“But…but he was,” I stammer. “My mama said some sort of letter was sent out and he didn’t respond. It’s why the judge gave everything to her.”
Jules takes a deep breath and hands me the paper. “Gather any of this documentation you can find. My professor said he’ll help you as much as he can, and so will I, but you’ll need to have representation if this goes to court.”
Rubbing my temple with one hand, I begin to pace the small space as I hold the paper with the other, reading over the list. “Okay,” I mutter. “It’s okay…I’ll find this stuff…I think.”
“You’ve got a good filing system, right?”
Looking back up at him, I’m almost offended. “Of course, I do.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” We stand there for a moment, staring at each other, both in our own heads as we think through this. “I just don’t want to see anyone take this place from you. You work your ass off. This is your shop. Fucking Theo Duval doesn’t win. You do.”
His little pep talk lights a fire under my ass.
He’s right. This is my shop. And my filing system is meticulous. I can provide any and all evidence they need that my Uncle Teddy intended on leaving this place to my mother, knowing she’d pass it on to me. If he had wanted his son—who I’d never even heard of before now, to have this shop—he would’ve told me. We spent five years together, working day in and day out. He told me everything…about everything…or at least I thought he did, but apparently, there are a few things he didn’t share.
One thing I know for sure, before I go in front of a judge and plead my case, I’ll know it all.
“If it’s not here,” I tell Jules, thinking out loud, “my mama will have it. She never throws shit away.”
When my pocket vibrates, I retrieve my phone and see a text from Shep.
&
nbsp; Shep: We’re going to the Blue Bayou tonight.
Shep: Mav’s proposing.
Shep: Don’t tell Jules.
Shep: Pick you up at 8.
I clear my throat to hide my shock and awe.
Maverick is finally going to ask Carys to marry him.
When Jules tries to take a peek, I quickly tuck the phone back into the pocket of my jeans and cross my arms. “Shep,” I offer up, hoping me telling a smidge of truth will help cover the fact I can’t tell it all. But I know why Shep said not to tell Jules.
He’d take it straight back to Carys, even if he didn’t mean to.
I’m not sure how that’s going to work out for him once he becomes a lawyer. Who the heck ever heard of a lawyer who can’t keep a secret?
“Sexting already?” Jules asks with a waggle of his brows. “Did he send a dick pic?”
“God, you’re deplorable.”
At promptly eight o’clock on the dot, I’m locking the front door of the shop. When I turn around, ready to text Shep, he’s there, waiting on the bench out front, looking every bit the part of a GQ model—one arm thrown over the back of the bench, an ankle crossed over a knee, the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen, and a suit that makes him look like a million bucks. But I know he doesn’t need the suit. It’s just an added bonus.
The strain from my day, all of the digging I did in the hours after Jules left and before Paige left for the day, turned up pretty fruitless. Sure, I have backlog after backlog of store business. I have tax returns, payments, and correspondence between me and my Uncle Teddy, detailing the daily business. What I didn’t find is a copy of the handwritten will my uncle left and any other documentation that would indicate his intentions after he died.
“Mrs. Rhys-Jones,” Shep greets as he gracefully stands from the bench and strides toward me, making me swallow, not just at the sight in front of me, but his greeting. I almost want to tell him to stop, because I know he’s just playing the part. But I don’t say anything, because I like it. Pretend or not. I like it when he calls me his wife.
