Dancing Queens & Biker Kings

by Maggie Dallen

  For Cole’s part, his Christmas miracle had come true the moment he’d spotted Claire in the airport. She’d come back. He’d gotten it all—everything he’d dreamed of and more. Not only did he have his family back in his life and on good terms, but he had found his other half, the soul mate with whom he planned to start a new family of his own someday.

  Claire had been welcomed into his family with open arms on Christmas, and Ruby had come to join them as well. He had a suspicion that Ruby was just as excited as he was that Claire had decided to come home for good.

  New Years had been filled with a new kind of excitement. On top of the fireworks and champagne he’d shared with Claire and his family, Cole had found another reason to celebrate. He’d stopped in to help Marty out as he was swamped with work. To his surprise, the gruff old man had offered Cole a job. And not just any job—he’d offered him a partnership, letting him buy into the shop and eventually buy him out when Marty was ready to retire.

  It had felt perfect, almost too perfect. But as Claire kept reminding him, this was just another sign from above that they had finally found the right path. They’d finally found a place to call home.

  Claire, too, had found the new career she’d been hoping for. Ellen and the other mothers had been ecstatic to learn that she wanted to teach dance full-time. They worked out a deal that she would continue to teach grade schoolers free of charge. Everyone, she’d told him, deserves the chance to be exposed to ballet.

  As the girls got older, if they wanted to continue, she’d offer paid classes for more advanced levels. As that business grew, she continued to help Ruby run the bar while living in the apartment above.

  Hopefully not for much longer, though.

  Cole paced the living room of the ranch as he waited for Claire and Alice to finish chatting in the kitchen. It could take a while as talk had turned to business. Those two had become partners in crime with the guest ranch ideas. It was a mutually beneficial friendship and business partnership, with Claire giving Alice moral support as well as a female confidante, which he and Dax hadn’t even realized she’d been missing until Claire stepped in and became a sort of older sister figure. Alice was able to talk to Claire about things she didn’t want to tell them.

  What those things were, he didn’t know and probably didn’t want to know.

  Dax walked in and stopped as he caught sight of Cole’s nervous pacing. He nodded toward the kitchen. “What’s going on in there? More girl talk?”

  He sounded wary. Seemed Dax was no more inclined to learn their sister’s secrets than he was.

  Cole shook his head. “Business talk.”

  Dax winced. That, in his brother’s eyes, was even worse. As much as he’d come to grips with the idea that tourists and their money might be necessary for the ranch’s survival, he still hated the idea. For everyone’s sake, tourists included, Alice had decided that Dax would stay away from the guests. She, Cole, James, and Claire would deal with that aspect of the ranch while Dax continued to run the cattle operation.

  This Chinese Wall seemed to suit Dax just fine. He turned to walk away, clearly changing his mind about heading into the kitchen. He stopped when his gaze fell on Cole again.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Cole shook his head. “Nothing.” Only sweaty palms, a racing heart, and an anxious pit in the bottom of his stomach. Nothing to worry about.

  Dax’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Are you taking Claire out?”

  Cole gave a short nod and shoved his hand in his pocket to clutch the little box one more time. It had become something of a nervous habit this past half hour as he waited for Claire.

  Dax eyed him, seeing too much, he was sure. “Big night, huh?” When his brother grinned, laughing under his breath, Cole nearly lost it.

  “Just hush,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it.” He glanced toward the kitchen. More importantly, he didn’t want Claire to hear Dax’s accurate suspicions.

  Dax shook his head. “I know what you’re up to, big brother.”

  “Of course you do.” It wasn’t like he was being super secretive, and his brother had experience with this sort of thing. Instead of trying to deny it, he changed the subject. When in doubt, divert.

  “You should hear what they’re talking about in there,” he said. He already knew as Claire had told him all about it with breathless excitement on the drive over here.

  Dax’s expression went from smug amusement to pained in a heartbeat. “Do I want to know?”

  Probably not. But it was a safer topic than the one Dax wanted to have. “Claire may have gotten a celebrity to have her wedding here.”

  Dax’s look of horror might’ve been funny if Cole had been in a mind to appreciate it.

  “What? How?” Then he groaned. “Why?”

  Cole raised his brows. “Why? Because it would be a huge boon for Alice’s guest ranch business. And how? Well, apparently Claire did charity work with some TV celebrity and they’d become friends, of a sort.”

  “Uh huh.” Dax sounded distinctly unimpressed. He’d always had a bit of a loathing for anyone who made their living anywhere near the realm of celebrity or other pompous elite.

  Cole shrugged. “Apparently she got engaged and she’s looking to host her wedding somewhere off the grid.”

  He could see Dax’s jaw clench and for some odd reason that made his own nerves abate. Huh.

  “When?” Dax asked.

  Cole shrugged yet again. “Not for a while, I don’t think. First she’d need to check out the place, obviously. Maybe have someone do it for her.”

  Dax made a grunting noise that conveyed all the disgust he was obviously feeling.

  “What have we gotten ourselves into?” he muttered.

  Cole grinned and slapped his brother on the back. “Relax, little bro. Good things are coming, I can feel it.”

  He felt the ring box through the material of his jacket once more. At least, he hoped that was true.

  Dax didn’t seem to be consoled by Cole’s hunches. Maybe he too had learned that life was unpredictable like that. Hunches were all fine and good, plans were nice if you had them, but when all was said and done, no one could predict what fate had in store.

  Unlike Cole, who’d learned to embrace it, Dax had always hated not knowing what was coming next.

  But for Cole, the unpredictability was life’s greatest adventure.

  He watched as Claire exited the kitchen, Alice close behind.

  His breathing stopped as his heart tried to leap out of his chest to greet her. It was always like that for him, even after they’d been dating for months now. This proposal was still a bit early, as far as most would be concerned. But then, most people didn’t know his Claire. And when she set off down a path, she saw it through with the kind of clear-headed determination that never ceased to amaze him.

  Her grin lit up her face, making her eyes dance with joy. “Sorry that took so long. Are we going to be late for our reservation?”

  Cole shook his head. Their “reservation” was with a packed picnic and a bottle of champagne on the back of the ranch’s truck. For a while, at least. Just until it got too chilly and then he’d take her out on the town.

  But first, he needed some time alone with the woman he loved under a cloudless Montana sky.

  Stay tuned for Dax’s story in the second of the series, Steel Toes & Stilettos, coming March 2018. Click Here to preorder for only $0.99!

  Looking for more sweet romance? Read a FREE full-length romance from Maggie Dallen’s Barely a Fairy Tale (Sweet Series). The first of the series, Cinderella Blackmail, is a free standalone, as well as the first of the series. Keep reading for a sample…

  Cinderella Blackmail

  Barely a Fairy Tale (Sweet Series)

  Chapter One

  Jacob woke to the sound of metal clanging. Before he could even open his eyes, the misery set in. His head throbbed and his stomach churned, and even though his eyelids we
re squeezed shut, the light behind them seemed to stab his brain like an ice pick.

  “Rise and shine, princess,” a low voice boomed, echoing through his skull and making him wince as the throbbing intensified.

  But physical misery was nothing compared to the cold, hard pit of despair that had him moaning out loud as his brain slowly kicked into gear and the reality of his situation became clear.

  He was in jail.

  “Up and at ‘em, sunshine,” the voice called. The tone was mocking, the volume mercilessly loud. And close.

  Jacob finally managed to open his eyes and found himself staring up at an overweight cop with a haircut that hadn’t been seen since the eighties.

  He tried to say something, peeling his sandpaper tongue from the top of his mouth and cringing at the horrible taste of death and decay. He wanted to ask questions—where am I, maybe, or what day is it? Either would have been a good start in sorting through the jumbled collections of drunken, scattered memories from the night before. But all he managed to croak out was, “Water.”

  The throwback cop smirked down at him. “What do I look like, room service?” He turned and headed toward the hallway. “Come on, hotshot, we don’t got all day.”

  Jacob managed to ease himself up into a sitting position, unleashing a whole new set of aches and pains. He thrust his hands through his hair, attempting to wake up fully, but the move only managed to make his left cheekbone scream with pain. With tentative fingers, he touched the sore spot and found it swollen.

  Wonderful. He had a shiner.

  “Good news, kid,” the cop said from where he was waiting in the hallway. “They aren’t pressing charges.”

  Jacob nodded. He should be pleased, he supposed, but at that moment it was difficult to conjure up any positive thoughts. He just wanted to be home, in his own bed, buried under the comforters with a giant bottle of aspirin by his side.

  The cop continued speaking at a volume that was better suited to the hard of hearing rather than the hungover. “That means,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “That you are free to go, your highness.”

  Jacob gave a short nod. Free to go. That was good. He shoved himself up and out of the hard cot, trying not to look at the dirty metal toilet to his left, afraid his body might succumb to the urge to vomit at the sight of it.

  He followed the cop out of the cell, into the hallway and up to the door leading to the public area. Stopping mid-step, he froze as a horrible thought occurred to him, temporarily overshadowing his physical misery. “Are there any reporters out there?”

  The officer smirked at him. Oh yeah, this guy knew exactly who he was. And by the looks of it, he was enjoying his misery. “Just one,” he said.

  “Tell him there’s no story here,” Jacob said, rubbing his eyes trying to force himself fully awake. Even as he said it, he knew this cop wasn’t about to do him any favors.

  “You tell her yourself.” The cop sounded highly amused.

  So glad he could entertain. Jerking his head toward the door, he said, “All right then, let’s get this over with.”

  The moment the door opened Jacob was blinded by a flash.

  Jeeze, that was rude.

  He blinked until his vision returned and when it did he blinked some more to ensure he was seeing correctly. The reporter who had thrown herself in front of him to snap what was sure to be a hideous photo… she looked familiar.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Her wild curls were blonde now, not dyed black. Gone was the nose ring. Her lips, curled up in a mischievous grin, weren’t sporting the siren red lipstick she’d always worn in high school. But that pixie face, those vivid blue eyes, the petite figure… there was no doubt.

  “Morning, Prince Charming,” she sang in a ridiculously chipper voice.

  He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. This couldn’t be happening. As if his morning wasn’t bad enough, she had to be here to witness his humiliation?

  When he dropped his hands and looked up, she hadn’t gone anywhere. She was still blocking his path, that damned camera going off with a dizzying display of flashes and an incessant whirring-clicking sound.

  Belatedly the pieces clicked together in his fuzzy hungover brain. “You’re the reporter?”

  Her grin grew wider. She looked entirely too pleased with herself. The cat that ate the canary. Or the reporter who’d gotten the scoop on the newspaper heir’s latest debacle.

  He let out a string of curses under his breath, ignoring her soft laugh. Her laugh—that hadn’t changed at all.

  “Anything you’d like to say for the record, Jacob?”

  His eyes snapped open at that. The reality of his situation sinking in as details fell into place. He’d heard that she’d become a reporter. And she was here. Now. With his picture.

  He bit back another groan, which he was sure would only add to her amusement. She’d always disliked him and now she had his picture coming out of jail. When his father found out….

  No. He wouldn’t go there. Not now. Not until he had coffee in hand.

  Straightening his shoulders, he met her gaze with as much dignity as possible. “A pleasure as always, Cinderella.”

  Her laugh followed him as he strode out the front door of the police station and into the unforgiving sunlight.

  * * *

  Now that had not been expected. Mackenzie watched her mark head out into the sunshine and turned to grin at the cop who was standing next to her. “Thanks again, boys. Catch you on the flipside.”

  One of them called out that reporters like her weren’t welcome back. But that was just Pat with his gruff sense of humor so she turned back to give him a jaunty salute.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Mack,” Angelo called after her. Angelo, sweet and dependable Angelo. He’d been the inside source to tip her off that a celebrity was being held overnight. “Celebrity” was a bit of a stretch, as far as Mackenzie was concerned. Entitled brat was a far more accurate description. But Jacob Hartley’s last name alone made him newsworthy, whether she liked it or not. The only son of the city’s version of royalty—the Hartleys, the media moguls who just about monopolized the world of TV and print news. Luckily they hadn’t yet gotten their hands on Mackenzie’s little corner of the online news world—she’d created a unique niche with her HeatMap site—or her struggling company would be put out of its misery once and for all.

  Stepping out of the dark, dingy police station and into the glaring morning sun that was pounding down on the Lower East Side, she took a quick look at the pictures she’d taken.

  Oh man, he looked bad. Really bad. His classically handsome face was marred by a nasty bruise, a five o’clock shadow, and some seriously dark circles under his eyes. His dark hair was matted and sticking out in all different directions. But the best part was the look of horror she’d captured the moment his eyes had focused on her. She shouldn’t find that so satisfying, but….she did. Call her petty but being able to witness Mr. Perfect’s humbling morning-after firsthand made her day.

  A laugh escaped her, startling the couple that passed by with their morning coffee. She fell into step behind them, heading back toward the subway. She should head straight to her home office in Brooklyn but her stepsister was probably already at their breakfast spot waiting for her. And the idea of filling Jenna in on this latest bit of gossip was too tempting to resist.

  As expected, Jenna was already there and waiting, sitting at an outdoor table on the cobblestoned street in the Meatpacking District, taking in the summer sun. Tall, with flawless fair skin and a perfectly coifed black-haired bob, her step-sister was pretty much the walking embodiment of everything Mackenzie was not. That used to be an issue, when they were teenagers rudely thrust into one another’s lives thanks to their parents’ whirlwind romance. But fortunately for all involved the marriage was nearly as short-lived as the courtship, and in the aftermath, when their parents’ relationship had turned caustic and toxic, the two girls, then in college, had found
an odd sort of friendship—the kind that could only come from surviving a warzone together.

  Mackenzie fell into the seat opposite Jenna and whipped out her phone. “You’re never going to believe who I got photos of leaving the police station.”

  Jenna groaned and picked up the menu in front of her. “No business over breakfast, Mack. You know the rule.”

  “This isn’t business, this is news—”

  “News is your business,” Jenna reminded her, only half paying attention as she perused the menu.

  “Not news-news,” she said, powering on her camera. “This is more like gossip. East Harbor gossip.”

  Jenna’s head shot up at the mention of the boarding school they’d been shipped off to their junior and senior year—Jenna willingly, Mackenzie? Not so much.

  “Don’t tell me one of our friends is in trouble,” Jenna said with a mix of dread with a dash of eagerness—that particular blend of curiosity that kept tabloids in business.

  “One of your friends. I didn’t have any friends, remember?”

  Jenna’s answer was automatic. “And whose fault was that?”

  Mackenzie clamped her mouth shut. High school was an ancient memory, there was no need to revisit that hellish period of existence. Unless, of course, it was to gawk at the school’s answer to Prince William.

  She turned the camera over to Jenna with a flourish and watched with glee as her stepsister’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh. My. God. Is that Jacob Hartley?”

  Mackenzie nodded. “The one and only. Your favorite luv-ah,” she drawled.

  Jenna gave a snort of annoyed amusement. “He was not my lover.”

  “But you did have a crush on him.” Mackenzie’s tone had taken on the sing-song tone of a child taunting her sibling. Which was exactly what she was doing.