Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1) (4 page)

“I’ll cut a bitch,” he warned, causing me to roll my eyes.

Tomas had been working for me since I opened Fire & Ice when I was twenty-one. I’d lost count of how many times he’d threatened to cut me within the first week of his employment.

That was probably one of the reasons I loved him so much. He was the quintessential gay. A flaming fashionista with a sassy personality who wasn’t afraid to speak the truth, no matter how much it hurt. He was flashy and flamboyant, so much so, his sexual orientation was obvious from at least a mile away. I totally dug all of that, it made my days go fast. The only problem was his mood swings. And
God
, was he one moody little bitch.

Think Jack from
Will and Grace
on the first day of his period with no Midol in sight. That was Tomas.

“Okay, I’m back,” Harlow’s disembodied voice called from the laptop screen sitting on the coffee table in front of us. “Jeez, I swear I have to pee every five seconds! So what’d I miss?”

“Can we
not
have a play-by-play of your bathroom antics, please?” Tomas cringed.

“Kiss my ass, Gay in the City,” Harlow shot back. “I’m five months pregnant, I’ll talk about my bladder functions as often as I want. It’s one of the perks of having an alien growing inside of me. I can pretty much do or say whatever I want.” Her mouth spread into an evil smirk as she trained her gaze on Tomas. “For instance… vagina. Vagina, vagina, vagina!”

“Oh, God! Make it stop!” Tomas cried as he covered his ears. You’d think the man was a virgin who’d been sheltered from all things sexual based on his reaction to one simple word. The truth was, the man was a raging whore, having banged most of the gay men in the city, and some who’s sexual orientation was a bit… shaky.

“
Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina
!” Harlow continued to yell as Navie and I fell over in an uncontrollable fit of drunken giggles.

“Uh…” a deep, masculine voice echoed through the computer before Harlow’s husband, Noah, popped up on the screen behind her. “You wanna tell me why you’re yelling vagina at the top of your lungs, wildflower?”

“She’s screwing with Tomas,” Navie laughed in answer.

Noah gave us a knowing grin that, I swear to God, made my belly flutter just a little. I know the man was married to one of my besties, but I wasn’t blind. The dude was
f.i.n.e
! “Ah, that explains it,” he chuckled, earning a steely-eyed glare from Tomas which he ignored. “Can I just ask you to keep it down a bit? Ethan has some friends over and I think your little outburst might have just scarred him for life.”

Harlow’s happy laughter sounded through Navie’s living room before Noah leaned in and kissed his wife then left the room. My chest expanded with happiness for my friend who’d finally gotten the happily ever after she so deserved. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter that my closest friends were all finding the loves of their lives, and there I was, having given the most important gift I could to a man years ago, that I thought was
The One
for me, only to have him tap dance on it like one of those stupid Irish river dancers my grandma loved to watch so much.

Fuck you very much, Griffin Locklaine
.

Tomas’s voice cut through my depressing musings and pulled me back into reality. “Can we please get back on topic here?”

“Not if that topic contains the words, ice white, princess gown, or crystals,” I warned, having already vetoed all three of those suggestions. “None of that is Navie. She needs something classic, like ivory lace. Think Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Harlow gasped.

“I do too,” at the strange, huskiness of Navie’s voice, I turned my attention to her to find her denim colored eyes pinned on me, sparkling with excitement that I’d just described something right up her alley.

“B-b-but…” he stuttered, refusing to give up the ghost. “With Navie’s coloring, ice white would make her look like a star!” His arm arced through the air so dramatically that I couldn’t suppress my annoyed groan.

I stood from my place on the couch and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to need
a lot
more wine if we’re going to keep talking about this.”

“Bring the bottle!” Navie called out to me. “I need a refill.”

I made a pit stop at the bathroom to check my lipstick and fluff my hair. As I gazed into the mirror, I smiled at the fact that I loved what I saw. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t conceited in the least, but growing up I’d always felt uncomfortable in my own skin. It had taken me years, but I’d finally found the
me
I truly wanted to be: all red lips, red hair, high-heeled, fifty’s pinup with attitude. I felt comfortable, hell, even beautiful some days. My look was my armor. Tomas once described me as “fierce and fiery.”

I loved that. So I did what I could to
own
it.

Thanks to the wine, my cheeks were a little rosier and my green eyes were glassy and bright. I wasn’t sloppy drunk, not by a long shot, but I’d had just enough wine to feel loose and carefree. As I opened the bathroom door and flipped off the light, I told myself I’d only allow myself one or two more glasses. I had to open the boutique in the morning. The last thing I needed was a massive wine hangover.

Rounding the corner of the hall that led into the kitchen, I grabbed the opened bottle of Cabernet from the counter and began refilling my glass when a low, melodic voice that made me melt and set me on edge all at the same time spoke from behind me.

“Hey there, sweetness.”

Son of a bitch in hell
.

Griffin friggin Locklaine.

The bane of my existence. The man who’d clog-danced all over my heart. The all-around pain in my ass.

My night had officially been shot to hell.

Letting out a pained sigh, I poured the wine a little longer than I usually would, filling the glass to the brim. Screw my
one or two more
rule. If I was going to be stuck in the presence of Griffin, I needed a
lot
more booze. I turned around to face the sex-on-legs bastard.

“Shit for Brains,” I offered by way of greeting.

“Satan’s Mistress,” he nodded with a deep chuckle that had my traitorous body tightening with pleasure.

“And I’d been having such a good night,” I lamented before taking a nice, long gulp.

“I can make it even better,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry as a grin curved his stupidly sexy lips up. Doing my best to shove down the flutter low in my belly, I rolled my eyes on a snort.

“What? Already bang all the club whores you ran into tonight?” I asked snidely, even though picturing him with those women still knocked the breath out of me like a well-placed punch. I hated how much it still hurt me after all this time. Despite the fact that my gut churned, I had my armor in place and masked the hurt with a look of disdain.

Griffin shrugged casually and took a step closer. “Didn’t see anything I wanted.”

Reaching out, he took the wine glass from my hand. “Hey! That’s mine!”

“I know.” Turning the glass so that his lips pressed right against the red lipstick staining the rim, he took a sip before running his tongue along the edge. His arrogant actions had my palm twitching to smack that smug look right off his handsome face at the same time tingles sparked between my thighs. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Always loved a good red.” His tone dripped with innuendo, then he winked. The asshole actually
winked
at me!

“Give me that!” I snatched my glass back and wiped the rim with a towel from the counter. I chugged the rest of the contents and poured a refill. The only way I could tolerate Griffin’s company was if I was completely blitzed. “What are you even doing here?”

“The club was boring. Wasn’t in the mood to help Rich get laid so I came back here with Rowan. Looks like I made the right decision.” He came even closer, so close I had to take a step back to maintain a comfortable distance between the two of us. I was totally thrown off by his proximity. After that one night, we both seemed to make a great effort to keep a deep, gaping chasm in the middle or risk each other’s prickly attitudes. I hated him, and he seemed to thrive on pissing me off. To say we weren’t each other’s favorite people was like saying Antarctica was chilly.
Understatement
.

“What are you doing?” I asked as my butt hit the lip of the countertop.

“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, like he wasn’t just inches away from me, so close I could smell the woodsy, spicy scent of his cologne. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, the way his eyes skimmed across my body was enough to send an unwanted shiver down my spine.

My breathing grew slightly erratic as my heart pounded against my ribs. “You need to back up,” I insisted.

Did he listen? Hell no, he leaned in even more and I could feel the heat of his minty breath as it trailed across the skin of my neck. “You smell fucking fantastic,” he growled. “What perfume is that?”

“I-I’m not wearing perfume,” I stuttered, trying desperately to shake off the lust that was suddenly coursing through my blood stream.

“All you,” he mumbled and inhaled again.

I swallowed audibly, my throat suddenly dry, as I placed my hand on his defined chest and pushed. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, and my jaw hit the floor. That was it. I didn’t know what game he was playing, but I wasn’t going to have any part of it. I’d already let him use me as his own personal game piece once before. I’d be damned if I was going to do it again.

“And you’re officially creeping me out. Unless you want to have my five inch stiletto surgically removed from your ass, you need to back the hell up.”

His full lips twitched with humor as he moved back a few inches—not enough for my liking so I shoved him further. “Have I ever told you I love it when you get feisty?”

I narrowed my eyes in anger. “And have I ever told you I’ve fantasized about setting you on fire?”

“You’ve fantasized about me?” he asked. “That’s so hot.”

I felt the agitated growl vibrate up my chest. I was just contemplating how badly scratching his eyes out would screw up my manicure when I heard Rowan yell my name from the other room. Not bothering to respond to his manipulation, I pushed past him and walked out of the kitchen.

I could feel Griffin at my back as I walked into the living room to find Rowan holding Navie in front of him like a shield between him and Tomas.

“What’s going on in here?” I asked as I scanned the room. Rowan looked pissed, Navie looked like she was trying to keep from laughing. Richard was holding his side as he cracked up, and Tomas looked like he was seconds away from mounting Rowan like a rodeo cowboy.

“Holy hotness,” Tomas breathed as he caught sight of Griffin. “There are three of them?! I think I just came.”

Rowan pointed an accusing finger at my flamboyant friend. “Your little minion here is trying to take advantage of me! I’m not above filing a restraining order. Don’t test me.”

“How’s it going, stud?” Tomas asked Griffin, having already turned his attentions to the newest hot guy in the room.

“Sorry, buddy,” Griff spoke, his voice laced with humor “Don’t swing that way.”

“That’ll only provoke him,” I warned.

“Once you go gay, there’s no other way,” Tomas added.

“Pretty sure I’d ruin you for all other people,” Griffin responded unwisely.

“Mmm, and I’d look forward to it.”

“See?” Rowan shouted. “This is what I’m talking about. Griff, Taser him or something, man.”

I groaned and began rubbing at my temples. “Dear Lord, I’m not drunk enough for this,” I grumbled.

“Ooh!” Navie clapped. “Let’s do shots! I’ll get the tequila.”

“I’ll get glasses!” Tomas joined in and the two of them rushed off to the kitchen. I wasn’t sure if there was enough tequila in the world to make my night any better.

I WAS DYING. THAT
was the only logical explanation as to why my head felt like it had been run over by a steam roller and my mouth tasted like a rodent had crawled in it and died.

Weren’t those signs of a stroke
?

I somehow managed to summon just enough strength to roll from my belly to my back, and groaned as I peeled my eyes open. The sunlight shining through the two small windows in my bedroom seared my corneas and the pounding in my head grew even stronger. Taking in my familiar surroundings led me to wonder how the hell I got home last night. After shot number three, my memory started to get a little fuzzy. I don’t remember
anything
that happened after shot number five.