by Tiya Rayne
He watches me, not speaking right away. That uneasiness comes back. I can’t really put my finger on it. He has yet to do anything to lead me to believe he’s trouble, but something about him is off.
“Are you the owner of this fine establishment?”
“I am.”
He looks at the plaque over my head that has my little picture and bio. “Malia Parks,” he reads aloud.
I simply nod.
This time when he grins it touches his eyes, making those lines a lot more prominent. “Well, Ms. Parks. It has been brought to my attention that you serve the best apple pie in Manhattan. And since I’m a connoisseur in all things sweet, I thought I’d give it a try.”
I chuckle at his joke. Despite the vibes, he really has been polite.
“Well, I only hope we can live up to what you’ve heard.” I glove up and grab him a slice out of the display case.
“Since I’m here, I might as well take one of everything,” he adds. I give him a bright smile, then gather up one of all twelve of our offerings today. “Do you do all the baking?”
“No, actually my partner helps. In fact, she is the queen of the brownies and the cinnamon rolls.”
“I can only imagine how awesome it would be if I grew up in a house with a baker.” He laughs at his own joke. “You got any kids?”
I finish gathering his order, placing the last chewy bar in his bag. “I have a daughter.”
He grins and follows me back over to the register. “Children are such a joy,” he goes on to say as I ring him up.
“Your total is $47.50.”
He hands me the cash and takes the pastries. “It was nice seeing you, Malia. Remember what I said, children are a joy. Cherish yours.” He turns and heads out the door, his friend following behind him.
I don’t know what the hell that was about. That feeling doesn’t leave until both men are nowhere in sight. It wasn’t so much anything he said. He wasn’t rude or overbearing. In fact, he was pretty much pleasant, but there was something about their eyes. Something that screamed danger.
Chapter 15
It’s Candy, Not Crack
Malia
* * *
“What do you think, Emory? Grilled zucchini and squash for dinner or broccoli?”
Standing in front of the produce section, I hold up the clear bag of both offerings. Emory scrunches her little nose as if she’s in deep thought before pointing at the broccoli. At her age, I would have vetoed both choices, luckily, she loves her veggies.
“All right, broccoli it is.”
I drop both bags back in the buggy and move on to the fruit. We’re doing last minute grocery shopping since tonight is Grams’ bingo night. It’s already after eight, but I’m determined to cook a meal.
“Stay where I can see you,” I tell Emory as she gets distracted by the saltwater taffy dispenser. My attention is split between her and this kiwi in my hand, I’m checking for ripeness.
“Hello, Candy Girl.”
That voice has the kiwi tumbling out of my hand. Before it can hit the ground and possibly bruise, a tattoo covered hand reaches out and scoops it up. Slowly, I allow my eyes to climb the body of my kiwi savior.
Long jean clad legs, a dark Henley with the sleeves pushed up showing his tattooed arms, all lead up to lips that make you want to sin, and then there’s those eyes. Where Lucien’s exude slow sex and sophistication with a little geek. Seth is all raw fucking and broken hearts with a lot of danger.
There is no denying they are identical twins. If not for the tattoos and the completely different swag, I would have thought Lucien was playing dress up. However, there is no mistaking that the man standing before me with a grin on his face is his brother.
“Seth.” Why do I sound so breathless?
“How’s it been, Candy Girl?”
My mouth is open, but nothing comes out. My mind is completely blank. Should I be sweating?
“Um.” I drag out. “Good. It’s been good.” I sound like an idiot.
Seth takes a step toward me, eating up the little space we have between us. His scent hits my nose and my mouth waters. No way is that an actual cologne. It smells too good to be mass produced.
He reaches out and lifts my reddish-brown hair with his long, tattooed fingers and twirls it around them. The exact same way he did my plaits that day on the playground. Those gorgeous amber eyes are fixated on my hair.
I hold my breath, trying not to break him out of the trance he seems to be in. This close to him, I can make out all his features.
The moment is broken when Seth is shoved away from me. Standing between us is my very defensive daughter. Seth looks down at her. His nostrils flare and he tilts his head. For a split second, I have the right mind to protect my daughter, but surely, he wouldn’t hurt her.
Emory starts to sign. “Don’t touch my mom.”
I go to translate as well as let her know it’s okay, but Seth replies before I can.
He shrugs. “Relax, I don’t touch her the way I wanted to, kid. I showed some restraint.”
My jaw has dropped and I’m speechless. Even Emory seems to relax a little. Seth takes a step toward me and Emory again blocks him.
“Relax, Tiny soldier. I’m not trying to hurt your mom. At least not in the way you think.” He grins up at me and I should be appalled at his suggestion, but I have yet to take back control of my body. “Here,” he says, pulling out some cash, he hands the wad to Emory. “Go buy yourself some candy.”
“No, you—” Before I can clear my thoughts and get the words out, she has already rushed off to grab what I know will be a month’s supply of candy. I turn back to Seth and glare, apparently my look isn’t alarming because he only smiles. “Excuse you?”
“What?”
“You can’t come up in here buying my kid candy without asking me.”
He gives a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “It’s candy, not crack.”
I scoff and turn to walk away to follow Emory. Good looks or not, Seth is an ass.
His footsteps behind me let me know he’s following me. “You’re angry with me?”
I spin around on my heels. “What gave it away?”
“The frown line in between your brows, the tone of your voice, the way your steps are rushed.”
“That was a rhetorical question, Seth.”
“Those are stupid. Why asks a question if you don’t want an answer?”
I have to blink a few times to determine if he’s serious or not. I can’t today. I turn back around and walk away again, this time he rushes in front of my cart to stop me. I glare at him while trying to maneuver around him. He grabs the buggy and prevents me from leaving.
“Move,” I command. A crooked smile lifts his lips, but it’s the only thing that moves.
“Ma’am,” one of the nice gentlemen who works here comes over. He must have seen our exchange. “Is everything all right?”
“Get lost.” The words are growled without Seth even looking at the man.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the cart,” the worker says.
This is the part of me I’m not always okay with. Seth is an ass, a very handsome one, but still an ass. However, he wasn’t bothering me or making me feel threatened. I didn’t want him to be treated like a threat.
“It’s all right, Sir,” I say to the worker. “I know him.”
He nods. “Okay, but if you need me…”
“Walk. The. Fuck. Away.”
This time when Seth speaks, I almost want to plead with the man to walk away. Seems like my concern isn’t needed, the man rushes off so fast it’s like the devil himself got after him. I watch his retreating figure before turning back to Seth.
“So, this is what you grew up to be?” I ask. “A tattooed asshole.”
“In all fairness, I was an asshole when we first met. Only the tattoos are new.”
I don’t know who’s crazier, me for standing here listening to him, or him for saying the first thing that com
es to his mind.
“What do you want?”
He moves around the cart to come stand before me. Rubbing his long fingers at his full bottom lip. “Speaking of how we grew up,” he starts. “It seems your taste in men has changed.”
“You don’t even know me or my taste in men.”
“I beg to differ. You see, I have a really great memory, Candy Girl. You can call it my super-power.” He waves his hands in the air as if he’s conjuring a spell. “I remember how bad you wanted me.”
For a third time, I find myself with my mouth hanging open. “I was nine.”
“Doesn’t change what I know.”
I laugh, but not because he said anything funny. It’s more like that chuckle you give right before you lose your calm. “You know what else I wanted at nine?”
He answers before I can finish. “Breast implants?” I glance down at my average sized breasts, feeling slightly offended. “They’re perfect now, but back then they were kind of small.”
I fold my hands in front of me as if I’m praying for patience or a shot gun.
“I was going to say, at nine-years-old, I also wanted to spend a month living in the forest hoping to find the Bridge of Terabithia. Thankfully I grew out of that, too.”
He gives another one of his smug grins. “Then you admit it.”
“Admit what?” This entire conversation is draining.
“That you had a thing for me and wouldn’t have wanted my strait-laced brother.”
The words die on my tongue. I guess the way I said it does make it seem that way. And in truth, when I think back to that day, it is always Seth’s face I see and think of, but only because he was the one I met. I’m sure if I’d met Lucien back then I would have daydreamed of him kissing me as much as I thought of Seth.
I shake my head forcing those wayward thoughts away. “You know what, this is a stupid conversation and it proves nothing.”
He reaches in my cart and grabs a grape out of its bag before popping it in his mouth. I think to warn him about pesticides and washing it first, but he doesn’t seem like the type who cares.
“Don’t worry, I got my answer.” He winks and turns to face Emory as she comes back. Her blue grocery bag, swinging in her hand heavy with candy.
“Thank you.” She signs to Seth.
“No problem, Tiny Rambo.” Her face flushes at the nickname. “Make sure you eat it all in one night or your mom’s going to toss it in the trash.”
“Don’t listen to him, Em, he’s a bad influence,” I say and glance at her with a stern look on my face.
“I definitely am,” he admits.
I roll my eyes and she giggles. I was about her age the first time I met Seth and I remember thinking he was so funny and cool. Lord, the amount of bad boys I chased in school, trying to recreate this man in front of me. Poor, Emory, I’m going to have to sit her down and explain how not all frogs turn into princes.
“Is he coming home to have dinner with us?” She signs.
“No,” I vehemently state at the same time he says yes.
We both turn to look at each other. “You’re not coming to my house.”
“I’ve already gotten your bodyguard’s approval.”
“She’s not my bodyguard and you’re not welcome.”
“This is above you now,” he says before turning to Emory. “Is this okay or should I dress formally?”
Emory breaks into a short laugh. I go to tell him again he isn’t welcome when my phone goes off in my pocket. I pull it out and realize it’s the security company for my store.
“Tell me, Tiny bodyguard, how much does a job like this pay?” Seth asks Emory before I tune them out.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Parks, this is Tina with KYS security. We are calling to let you know your system has been triggered.”
“What?” Both Seth and Emory must pick up on the concern in my voice because they immediately turn to me.
“Do you know if anyone might have been in the store?”
I pull my phone away to look at the time. It’s nearly nine, there should be no reason anyone would be at my store this late.
“No, there should be no one there,” I say, placing the phone back at my ear.
“Would you like us to send police to the location?”
“Yes, please. I’ll meet them there. Thanks for letting me know.” I disconnect the call.
“What happened?” Seth asks, only it isn’t a question, more like a demand for an answer.
“The alarm is going off at the store. I have to go.”
“Should we call Grams?” Emory signs.
A frown tugs at my lips. It bothers me that whenever something feels dangerous, Emory wants me to call Grams like I can’t take care of it.
“No,” I say with a little bite in my words before calming down. “I can handle it.”
“Of course, we can,” Seth says, reminding me he’s here. “You don’t need anyone else, Tiny Rambo. You got me.”
I quickly hold up my hand. When the hell was he invited? “That’s a negative. I don’t need your help.”
He grabs my purse out of the cart and shoves it into my chest, making me grab it. “I don’t have time to convince you, we have to go. Leave your little sad ass groceries here.” He turns and walks away.
I look down at Emory and she’s watching him with a big smile on her face. We will definitely have to have a talk soon.
“Don’t get excited,” I tell her. “He’s not coming to the store with us.”
Chapter 16
A Condition?
Malia
* * *
“Your security system is a piece of shit.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to fight off the headache I feel forming. Despite me telling him numerous times not to come, he still came.
“So you’ve said a hundred times.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the material of his Henley to showcase his amazing physique. Ugh, I hate that I keep checking him out. It’s like a brain malfunction.
“You need a better system.”
“This system is really good and it came highly recommended.”
He looks back at me, not blinking. I now understand why people are tempted to commit murder.
“It’s shit.”
I toss my hands up in the air. It’s not like it didn’t do its job. The police and I think an animal must have triggered the alarm.
We have a pesky raccoon who often gets into our trash and sometimes too close to the back door. Obviously, it wasn’t a break in, nothing was taken and there weren’t any signs of forced entry. The system works.
“Fortunately for you,” Seth continues on. “You’re now fucking one of the best tech guys in the security game.”
“Hold up,” I say, holding up a hand to stop him. I look around to see Em in her favorite spot near the fireplace. Still, when I speak, I keep my voice down. “I am not sleeping with your brother.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
The possibility of wearing an orange jumpsuit is very likely when I’m around this man. “Lucien and I are only friends. There’s no sex involved.”
He scratches his chin, glancing down at me as if he’s giving my words thought. “So, what you’re saying is, the dork doesn’t have enough game to get between your legs?”
“Do you have a condition? Like is there something physically preventing you from being a decent human being?”
“I lack empathy, have no boundaries, and I hear voices in my head.”
I roll my eyes at his reply, not even giving his joke a second thought. “Lucien and I aren’t having sex, because I don’t want to. It has nothing to do with him or his game. I control who gets between my legs,” I say the words slow, making sure I clearly pronounce each word so he will understand.
He gives me one of his long looks. “You control it?”
Part of me hears the challenge in his tone, but that small part of me who lives in realit
y understands people don’t go around doing whatever they want. Surely Seth wouldn’t do anything that crosses the line only to try to prove me wrong.
“Yes,” I say, rolling my neck. “I do.”
His signature smug grin turns to a devilish smirk. He takes a step back and tilts his head. Then he slips his tongue out of his mouth and runs it along his bottom lip.
When he starts toward me, I start to back away. I realize too late I am now out of the sight of my daughter. I fell right into his trap.
My back hits a solid surface and I can no longer move away. He crowds me, standing so close, my breasts press against his chest.
“What are you doing?” Damn it, why is my voice so breathy?
He doesn’t answer. Just continues to gaze down at me. He’s not touching me, not really. However, the heat from his body and the fire in those amber, emerald, and sapphire eyes are doing the most damage. My body feels flush, my heart rate is racing so fast I feel like I’ve done cardio. And for some reason unbeknownst to me, my nipples are now so hard they are stabbing at him.
Common sense fights against the malfunction of my body. I press my hands against his chest and push, ignoring the searing from the heat. With one hand he knocks mine away and grabs both wrists then pins them to the wall over my head. It happens so fast I don’t have time to counter it.
Now my breathing is so labored, I think I might pass out.
“Enough, Seth,” I warn, but I don’t think my words are registering.
He dips his head. I turn my face, but I realize too late he was never aiming for my lips. He buries his face into my neck and sucks right below my ear.
My eyes roll to the back of my head and my entire body bows toward him. He then runs his tongue all the way up the side of my face. If I would have seen him do it to someone else, I would have been grossed out, but the way my body malfunctions, it isn’t listening to reason.
“Still think you can keep me from between your legs?” He groans into my ear.
“Forcing yourself on me and me wanting you are two different things,” I pant, sounding like I ran a race.
