Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1) (8 page)

I WAS DOING inventory when Hunter came walking into my shop Friday afternoon. He always stayed on the After Dark side, so that was my first clue that something wasn’t right. My second clue was the look on his face.

Mentally preparing myself for whatever it was he wanted to dump on me, I held the notepad to my chest and plastered a smile on my face as he walked up to the register.
 

“Please tell me you don’t have bad news,” I said through my teeth.
 

Hunter frowned. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is that some kind of Botox shit?”

I let my smile drop. “No, it’s not some kind of Botox…anything, and watch your mouth around my customers.” When I realized what I just said, I shook my head. “Sorry, I sounded like my grandma just then. And it’s not like I don’t sell ice cream that’s called worse.”

“No, you’re right.” He made the motion of zipping his lips.
 

Chimes went off as the front door opened, and a pair of twenty-somethings entered the store.

“Hey there. Ready to Get Licked?” I said in greeting, which earned high-pitched giggles from them and a raised eyebrow from Hunter. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes, and I nodded at him to take a seat at the bar. Turning back to the women, I asked, “First time here?”

“Yeah, our coworker told us about this place and said we had to come,” the first girl with shaggy blond hair said. She looked around the store with an approving eye. “This is so rad. I love the colors.” Then she looked at the bright pink and aqua rockabilly dress I was sporting today. “And you match. Is this your store?”

I glanced down at my outfit and laughed. “Yeah, I suppose that’s obvious. What can I make for you ladies today? One of the specials today is a Dammit Spike from Notting Hill.”

Their eyes went big and round.
 

“We’re a little unconventional here,” I said with a wink.
 

“That’s cool,” the blond said before turning to her friend. “What was that she told us to get? Something salted caramel?”

“I thought it had candy in it?” her friend said.

“You mean the S&M&M?” I asked. “Salted caramel ice cream with two handfuls of M&M’s? Sound about right?”

“Yeah,” the blond said with a chuckle. “That’s it. But just two small ones.”

I smiled at her and swiped the card she handed to me. “Comin’ right up.”

After putting together their sundaes and letting Amber and Heather, two of my employees, cover the counter, I went over to where Hunter was seated at the far end on a barstool.
 

Though he’d been working for hours, he wasn’t a sweaty mess like he should’ve been. No dirty construction guys over here. This reaffirmed Shayne’s Chippendales theory.

“Okay, tell me,” I said, stopping in front of him and crossing my arms, as if that would somehow act as a barrier for whatever the bad news was.
Please let them be able to finish on time. Please please please.
 

Hunter rubbed the stubble on his jaw and sighed. “I need you to promise you won’t freak out. There’s always a solution.”

“You’re asking me to promise I won’t freak out when you know I have a reason to or you wouldn’t be telling me that. Spit it out.”

“The orders you gave to Scott were not put through.”

I blinked. “What? What does that mean?”

“It means the tables, the chairs, the lighting fixtures, the bar…none of that has been ordered.”

“What! Oh my God.”

“I said don’t freak out.”

“Don’t tell me not to freak out. What did he do, buy a house in the Bahamas with the money? Oh my God.”

“Hey, keep your voice down.” He inclined his head at a few customers close by who were watching my meltdown and then looked back at me, his lips tipping up in a grin as he threw my earlier words back in my face.

“Sorry about that,” I said, addressing the customers and putting on a smile before pointing at the tarp. “You know. Renovations.” When they went back to eating, I white-knuckled the counter. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“You’re not gonna pass out,” Hunter said, standing up. “Can we go to your office or somewhere more private to discuss this?”

I moaned. “I don’t have an office. And now I don’t have furniture. Or lights. I’ll have to serve everyone in plastic cups by candlelight while they sit on the floor.”

“All right, stay there.” Hunter rounded the end of the bar and grabbed my elbow, his other hand on my lower back as he helped me and my wobbly legs to an empty booth. I plopped down, super ladylike, on the hot-pink vinyl and scooted to the middle before dropping my head in my hands.
 

“Do you need a paper bag?” he asked, as he sat down across from me.
 

“No. Just…you said there’s always a solution. I’m gonna need to hear that right now before I go drown myself in a vat of ice cream.”

“Look at me.”

“That’s not a solu—”

“Look at me.” His voice was demanding this time, and I lifted my head to see eyes intense on mine. Intense and yet comforting. Like just gazing at them set my mind more at ease and had the tension escaping my body.
 

How does he do that? Does he have some kind of mood stabilizer superpower or something?

Apparently I said that last part out loud, because he chuckled. “Not that I know of, but I’m glad to see I have that kind of effect on you.”

For some reason, that made me squirm. Relaxed wasn’t the only effect he had on my traitorous body, it seemed. Which pissed me off.

“Okay, I’m looking at you, what now?” I said. “Is this where you convince me it’s not the end of the world, and we can bring in plastic chairs if we have to and call it chic?”

Hunter leaned forward and clasped his hands together. Rough, manly hands, the kind that knew their way around…well, probably everything. I shivered.

“I wanted you to look me in the eye and believe me when I tell you we’ve got this. I won’t lie, though. Your orders are fucked. There’s no way on your timeline to get any of those pieces custom-made and shipped in time. It’s just not gonna happen.”

“Oh my G—”

“But I’ve got a better idea. I think I get the look you’re going for, and there’s a place near Palm Desert that makes incredible one-of-a-kind pieces. I know the owner, and he can guarantee having them done when you need them. It’s just a matter of picking out what you like.”

“That’s, like, three hours away. Do they have a website or a catalog I can look at first?”

Hunter shook his head. “He’s a bit old-school, but that’s exactly why he’s great for this project. And no, I don’t get some kind of commission for referring, I just know his work. Up to you how you want to move forward.”

“So you’re saying I have to go to his shop?”

“Yeah. He’s out of town, so how’s next weekend?”

I flipped the pages of the calendar in my mind. “The weekend works, but since we’re closed on Mondays, can I do it then?”

“Sure thing. I’ll just check with Mitch and make sure it’s good with him too.”

“Thank you, but what’s this ‘we’ business?”

“You can’t just go pick out whatever you want with no regard to my side of things—”

“
Your
side of things?” I interrupted.

“Well, my business eye. Plus, I can get you a better rate if I’m there.”

“Right. You’re right. And this place can do what I envision for the pieces? Like unusual flairs—”

“Even better, no doubt.”

I looked at him warily, but he seemed confident about it, and he hadn’t steered me wrong yet. I blew out a breath. “Thank you. You’re saving my ass yet again.”

With a shrug, Hunter said, “Not a problem. It’s a nice ass.” When my mouth fell open, he chuckled. “But I should probably get back to it.” He slid out of the booth and looked down at me. “You need any help?”

“What, standing up? Nah, I think the urge to dive into a tub of whipped cream has passed.”

A sinful look crossed Hunter’s face then. “That’s too bad,” he said quietly, rapping his knuckles on the table before walking away.
 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He wanted me to drown myself in whipped cream or he wanted to see me in—

Oh. Oh damn.
This guy was potent, and if that sexy glint in his eyes was anything to go by, it was pretty clear he knew it, too.
 

THE NEXT MORNING as I was walking in the shop after having made a run for coffee beans, Hunter strolled through the tarp.

I gave him a sharp look as I rounded the counter and shook my head. “Nope. No way. Don’t even say it.”

He stopped, holding his hands up, and I tried not to look at the way the red shirt he wore with his company’s logo across the front sculpted to his muscles.
 

“What’d I do?” he asked.

“Nothing yet, but I’m sure you’re coming to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“Is it the plumbing this time? Or the furniture guy has closed his business permanently and I’ll have to get those plastic chairs after all? Or is it termites? Please don’t say termites. I think I could handle anything else.”

“It’s not termites.”

“Oh thank you, God. The plumbing?”

“Is fine,” Hunter said as he came around to the front register.
 

“So this is just a friendly hello?”

“It is.”

“Oh. Well, hi.”

“Hey.” He smiled, and while his wasn’t the beaming smile of Cameron’s, it was something worse. Much worse. It was sexy with a side of cocky, one that no doubt had women flinging their panties in his direction. But not me. Nope. I was holding on to my hipsters, thankyouverymuch.
 

“Can I get you and your guys drinks or anything?”

“No, thanks. We don’t usually have vodka until after lunch.”
 

“What?”

He laughed. “Not on duty, of course.”

“Right.” The feeling in my stomach could only be described as anxious, the casual hellos scaring me more than the possibility of termites. Okay, now
that
was a problem.

He cleared his throat and glanced up at the menu. “So, I’ve had to smell your shop for a week now, and I have to say”—he looked at me and leaned in closer—“fucking delicious.”

“Um.” Dammit, why was my face getting hot? This was why I needed a tan. Pasty-white girl who blushes easy gave me away too much. Great. “Thank you.”

“I thought maybe I could have a taste?”

My eyes were on his lips, which were closer than they were a few seconds ago. Or was I imagining things? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumbled.

“Why not? No one’s here.”

“Because…” My mind tried to come up with a logical reason, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but his damn lips. “Because Cameron’s your roommate.”

“What does that have to do with trying out this famous ice cream I’ve heard so much about?”

When I looked away from his mouth, it hit me what he was saying. Oh come
on
—

“What did you think I meant?” he asked, his eyes smirking at me.

There was no way my face wasn’t pinker than my pencil dress.
Please, God. If that massive earthquake everyone keeps talking about is going to happen in my lifetime, can it be now? Can it just swallow me whole, right here, right now? Because
fuck
.
 

“Which would you like to try?” I asked, my lame attempt at changing the subject all I could think to do besides run away like a little girl.
 

His smile grew bigger. “Oh, I think
you
should tell
me
what you’d like me to try.”

“Feel free to eeny meeny miny moe it if that helps.”

“So you can’t give me a recommendation?”

“Oh, I could. I was just about to switch out the specials from yesterday’s specials, so hmm… The Wanker is right up your alley.”

“Ouch. You know,” he said, leaning in again as if telling me a secret, “I wouldn’t be so polite if we weren’t talking about ice cream.”
 

He couldn’t be serious. Flirting with me after that embarrassing denial? I wasn’t giving in to
that
discussion. Hell no. “All right, Stage Five Clinger it is.”

“I’ll go with Ravaged Raw,” he said, pulling out his wallet, to which I held up my hand to stop him.
 

“And what size?”

“Just a scoop is fine.”

I nodded. “Sure thing. One Castrated Ball of Ravaged Raw for Mr. Morgan.” I held up the scooper like a weapon and gave an evil smile. I couldn’t stop myself from doing it every time someone ordered a one-scooper, even if they soon changed their minds.
 

“Wait—what? I don’t want a castrated ball.”

“But you said just one scoop. One scoop, one ball. Unless you’d like a full set?”

Hunter just shook his head at me. “You’re a sick, twisted woman.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
 

“What’s two scoops?”

“Well, two scoops would be the full set of Love Balls.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” he said, adjusting his jeans.
 

“Wise choice.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it’s called the Castrated Ball. No one wants to order it, so it’s always an upsell. I can be a genius when I want to be. The rest of the time I’m just making a fool of myself in front of gorgeous guys.