by Layla Frost
“Where’re we going?” I asked as we walked through an office.
“The bakery.” He pushed another door open.
Holy shit, it’s like the Labyrinth in here. If two of the doors start talking about how one always tells the truth and the other always lies, I’m outta here before I get accosted by Bowie’s bulge.
We stepped into a kitchen, and I saw the ‘back way’ wasn’t a rear entrance.
It was a side one that connected the garage to the bakery.
What the hell did this place used to be?
Going through yet another swinging door, we ended up behind the counter of the bakery.
Other than a wall with a mural of the bakery name and logo, the storefront was slate gray. There were a few brightly colored tables, chairs, and decor.
And people.
A shit-ton of them, including three women behind the counter.
Well, there go my concerns about standing out.
And my theory about being the best dressed.
A super pretty woman with black hair, gorgeous tattoos, and a cute apron over her even cuter outfit turned and smiled at Judge. “Tell your asshole brother I’ve gooooot…” Her word stretched before trailing off when her eyes landed on me. Not moving her eyes away, she reached out and whacked the redhead who was taking orders next to her.
“Here we fuckin’ go,” Judge muttered. “Way they gossip, I’m surprised no one texted before we got over here.”
“They might’ve, I haven’t checked my phone.” She smacked the other woman again.
Not looking up from the box she was closing, the redhead said, “Hitting employees violates labor laws.”
“You don’t work here,” the brunette working the register pointed out.
“Then me working right now definitely violates labor laws.” After handing the box off to the customer, the redhead turned around to glare, but her eyes went wide when they landed on me.
Rye’s bartender.
Big city, small world.
Trying to break the staring contest and test the waters, I gave them a little wave. “Hi.”
That did the trick, and the redhead grinned. “It’s the badass commando.” I started to look questioningly at Judge, but she laughed. “I’m talking about you. Rhys said you kicked that dude in his,” her eyes shot to the line that included kids, “cookies. Good for you. Security is good, but sometimes jerks get away with too much.”
At the mention of the asshole, Judge’s arm tightened around me, his body going rigid. I curled into him, resting my hand on his abs soothingly.
And, fine, maybe a little possessively.
I was positive he wouldn’t knowingly bring me around someone he’d slept with—or their friends—but it could happen unintentionally. And since I couldn’t get a vibe on the room, I was feeling uncharacteristically territorial.
Both women’s eyes dropped to take it all in, but neither appeared upset—for themselves or on behalf of the girl-code.
“You told me that part,” the black-haired woman said, “but not that she was with Judge.”
“Yes, I did,” the redhead insisted.
“You said she was with him. But she just came into my bakery on his arm, wearing what I’m guessing is his jacket over her kickass outfit. That’s not with, it’s with.”
“Have you known them long?” I whispered to Judge.
“Six months.” I thought he was joking until he added, “They’re gossipy.”
Black-haired woman hooked her thumb toward the wall. “Don’t act like they’re not worse.”
“You’re all bad,” he said, but it was easy to see he wasn’t actually annoyed.
Shrugging, she wiped her hands on her apron before extending one to me. “Sorry, that was rude. I was just… nosy. I was nosy. I’m Piper.”
I shook it. “Ophelia.”
“Gah, that name is so awesome.” She gestured to the redhead. “This is Harlow.” Then to the brunette. “And Joss.”
The brunette gave me a friendly, but reserved smile.
“Hi!” Harlow called without turning around.
“Have we met before?” I asked her, trying to solve the mystery that’d been driving me crazy.
“She’s a news intern,” Piper filled in, sounding proud. “She’s been on TV.”
Harlow rolled her eyes. “Barely.”
“Still something.”
I nodded, happy to finally have an answer. “That’s where I’ve seen you.”
The seniors at Elder Oaks loved the news. Even though she hadn’t been on often, I’d likely seen each appearance.
Repeatedly, if they recycled the footage.
Something chimed through the speakers.
“Cookie time.” Piper jerked her head toward the door we’d come through.
We followed and watched as she pulled a huge tray out of the oven. They could’ve looked like there’d been a disaster in the Keebler tree for all I cared since the smell promised they’d be delicious even if they were misshapen messes. That said, my already high expectations skyrocketed at the sight of cookies that belonged in a magazine.
And then they plummeted to a fiery death when I saw the chocolate chips weren’t actually chocolate chips.
This is why I have trust issues.
Still holding out hope, I leaned closer. “Are those raisins?”
“They’re for Jury. Well, not all of them—half are going into the case.”
Maybe I can swipe one and eat around the shriveled imposters.
“He’s lucky he’s getting any.” Piper took a tray from a chiller and put it into the oven. “Everyone keeps hiding my raisins because they don’t share his love.”
“I don’t blame them,” I whispered to Judge.
Piper laughed and pointed to three cute boxes. “Don’t worry, those are for you guys. Chocolate chip, cornflake white chocolate chip, sugar cookies that’re loaded with rainbow sprinkles, and some cupcakes.”
“That’s a lot of dessert.”
And somehow not enough.
“She’s been through this with Mayhem,” Judge said, his arm around my shoulder shifting as he played with my hair. “Swedes doesn’t like anyone else’s cooking, but he almost came to blows with Hollywood when he found out he ate all the cookies Piper made.”
“I make a good cookie,” she said matter-of-factly as she set a timer. “But my cupcakes are the best.” Her eyes darted to the boxes and then back to me. “I thought I packed enough, but maybe you should grab one from the front case and eat it now, just to be safe.”
Even though my tongue and stomach would hate me, I shook my head. “I don’t want to take one and have your line riot.”
“The boys are always helping themselves, so most of my customers are used to it.” She grabbed a cooling rack and started transferring the cookies. “Since I know Judge doesn’t wanna chill over here, and I’m betting you probably don’t wanna listen to them talk about parts and bikes and customizations ‘til it sounds like they’re making up words, why don’t you stay here and eat a cupcake—or four—while he goes back over there?”
Since these were Judge’s people, I started to look back to see his thoughts. Before I could, he turned me to face him. Cupping my cheek, his long fingers speared into my hair, the tips digging in as he tilted my face up. “You good with that?”
I glanced at where Piper was starting a pot of coffee in a ridiculously fancy looking brewer, her head bopping to the song playing softly. The coffee and promise of cupcakes were reason enough to stay over here, but I was also pretty sure I liked Piper and hanging out there sounded fun.
Plus, coffee and cupcakes.
“I’m good,” I told him honestly. “I’d rather smell vanilla than grease.”
He dipped down, pressing his lips to mine so they brushed when he whispered, “Rather be smellin’ you.”
“Just think of how much better that’ll be after I’ve eaten a cupcake,” I whispered back.
“Not your mouth I’m talking
about.”
I swayed closer but stopped myself before I did something that’d violate health laws and regular ones.
Flashing me a smirk, Judge let me go and took a few steps backward. “I won’t be long.”
“Good.” I paused for a moment to give him a smile I hoped was even half as wicked as his. “Because we’ve got plans.”
He gave me a scorching yet playful look that I tried my hardest to commit to memory. “Fuckin’ killin’ me.”
Turning, he was almost to the door when Piper called, “Tell my husband there’s coffee.”
Husband? I wonder which one is…
Jake.
Duh.
I could’ve smacked my head for not putting two and two together. The business combo totally made sense, as did the beautiful couple.
When she handed me a mug while holding her own in her other hand, I got a view of the huge rock on her finger. I hadn’t noticed it before because she’d been wearing oven mitts.
“Thanks.” Taking the coffee, I followed Piper out to the storefront that’d died down a little.
She pointed past the counter. “Grab a stool and bring it back here.”
“I can help with something,” I offered.
“I only abuse the kindness of my longtime friends,” she said with a laugh. “Come see me next month, and I’ll put you to work.”
She was joking, but I found myself genuinely hoping there was some truth to it.
There was no way I’d be able to carry a stool without hitting someone, so I leaned on the rear counter, staying out of the way while still chatting. A few minutes passed when the door—that I’d thankfully been smart enough to not stand in front of—swung open. I looked over to see if it was Judge or a brother.
Instead, a tall, tattooed man in a white beater tank and low-slung jeans came in. I’d never thought much about dreads, but his pulled back locks were Momoa-nly cool.
Is there something in the water here?
With an expression of single-minded intensity, he prowled past, not stopping until he’d reached Harlow. Gripping her hips, he turned her before cupping her pale cheeks in his inked hands and kissing her in a way that, although not obscene, definitely pushed the health code.
Since Joss was stuck at the register and Piper was with a different customer, I jumped in to take over the one Harlow had been helping.
“Uhh, sorry,” I apologized to the customer.
The lady waved it away before moving her hand closer to fan her face. “Don’t be.” She tilted her head toward the other women in her group. “That’s half the reason we come here.”
“You should see when the growly blond gets his hands on the owner,” one of them whispered. “I swear, it’s better than any movie.”
I grinned, even though a pang hit my chest as I thought of my girls at work.
Most of all, Ms. Carol Anne.
That southern belle and her gang of gossips may have acted like they were proper ladies, but I’d heard them say things that’d make a sailor blush.
At the store, I wanted to take a pic of Judge’s ass to show her, but now, maybe, I’ll be able to show her in the flesh.
Well, not literally.
Pulling my mind out of Judge’s pants, I helped the women and tried not to stare at the couple in a clinch next to me.
The man ended the kiss. “Missed you, ipo.”
“We drove over here together,” Harlow said softly with a laugh.
“Still missed you.”
“I missed you, too. What’re you doing over here? Other than making a scene.”
“Came to get coffee, wanted a kiss. Need a refill?”
“Do you even have to ask?” she shot back.
A girl after my own heart.
Piper caught his arm before he went into the kitchen. “While you’re here, can you grab a stool for Ophelia so she doesn’t have to stand all day?”
“This is my fiancé, Kase,” Harlow told me. “He works for Piper’s husband in the garage.”
Crystal blue eyes landed on me for the first time and he looked startled, as though he hadn’t even noticed me or anyone else in the store for that matter.
I didn’t know Harlow from Eve, but I loved that she had a guy who saw no one but her.
When everything had gone down with my ex, my friends—filled with good intentions that could’ve paved my way to hell—had also said I’d been lucky he wasn’t a cheater. They’d said attractive men didn’t settle down—and those who did cheated. A lot.
But Kase definitely wasn’t playing it cool with Harlow so he could keep his options open.
And Jake and Piper had their businesses in the same building, something that would not work if they were miserable. Plus, I seriously doubted it was a coincidence his office had a door to her kitchen.
These guys were almost Judge-levels of attractiveness but seemed thrilled to be in committed relationships with women they were clearly crazy about.
None of these men are clueless, selfish Alexs.
They’re Judges.
Effortlessly romantic and automatically considerate.
“You Judge’s woman?” Kase asked.
Judge and I had never talked about it, but we hadn’t needed to. He’d made his feelings known with both actions and words, and I’d made mine known by…
Well, by happily fucking him against a wall.
“Yeah,” I said, liking the label the more it bounced around my head.
He smiled, and his pretty eyes were even prettier. “Cool.”
After refilling Harlow’s cup, he easily maneuvered around to grab a stool and carry it to me. Then he kissed her again, lowering his voice to say, “Been thinking about lani all fuckin’ day.”
I had had no clue what that meant but, based on the way her face flushed as she watched him leave, I was betting it was dirty.
Taking my seat, I sipped my coffee and ate the best cupcake—strawberry with whipped cream cheese frosting—while I chatted with hilarious women.
And I did it thinking about how I totally wanted to be their friend.
And how much I was looking forward to Judge getting his hands on—and up—my skirt.
But also, unexpectedly, how badly I wanted a tattoo.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
___________________________
THAT DAMN SKIRT
JUDGE
SLOWING DOWN WHEN all I wanted to do was pin it, I took a left onto a winding road.
Ophelia’s arms around my waist tightened, but like she’d been born on the back of a bike—or made for the back of mine—her body moved naturally with the motions.
It was a little thing, but it made me hard.
Everything about her did.
Keeping an eye around us, I continued until we were away from the rest of the world. I pulled over, cut the engine, and kicked down the side stand.
“Where are we?” Ophelia asked in my ear, her breathy voice filled with exhilaration from the ride.
Her next ride would be even better.
I pulled off my helmet and shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Is something wrong?” She pulled hers off, too, and I saw the concern on her face. “Did they mess something up at the garage?”
I chuckled. “If Jake heard you accuse him of that, he might tell Piper not to give you cupcakes.”
Her expression morphed to horrified. “Do not tell him.”
“Don’t worry, if he tried it, Piper would probably send you extra to remind him she does what she wants.” I reached back and gave her my hand.
She took it, swinging a leg over as she said, “Let’s not risk it.”
Feet to the ground, I lifted my weight from the bike, checking it was stable before sitting again. I tossed my helmet to the grass before taking hers and doing the same. With our hands free—for then, ‘cause I had a lot of damn plans for mine—I palmed the back of her head and tugged her to me.
“What’re we doing?” she asked, though she didn’t fight the pull.
/> “Told ya, I’m fuckin’ you in this damn skirt.”
“Here? I thought you meant at home.”
Home.
Not my home.
Just home.
My cock jerked.
“Can’t wait that long,” I growled, moving my hand to push my jacket down her arms.
“I’m gonna want that back,” she muttered distractedly, shaking it off to fall to the ground.
I lifted the damn skirt, but before I could do anything more, my naughty fuckin’ princess hooked her fingers into her panties and shoved them down, kicking them to the side.
“You want it, it’s yours.” Gripping her waist, I lifted her to straddle me and the bike. “My jacket. My dick.” I cupped the back of her head. “My head, my thoughts, my fuckin’ sanity.”
I didn’t kiss her, I devoured her. My tongue pushed in, battling with hers, desperate to take all she gave and more.
Because it’d never be enough. I’d never fuckin’ get enough of her.
My free hand went up her short shirt to cup her tit, my thumb trailing along her bra cup before pushing it down so I could play with her nipple.
Fuck. The taste of coffee.
Of strawberries.
Of Ophelia.
Driving me out of my damn mind.
Hoping like fuck she was as ready as I was, I dropped my hands to her thighs and ran them up, groaning when my thumbs reached her pussy.
Soaked.
She worked between us to undo my pants. I helped her free my dick, and when her hand wrapped around it, I lost it.
Keeping my feet planted, I hauled her body closer until her torso was pressed tightly against mine and her legs were wrapped around me. I lifted her, reaching around to position my dick. Gritting my teeth, I eased her down, my fingers feeling our connection.
I moved my hand away as Ophelia gripped my shoulders, but she didn’t use the leverage to lower herself slowly.
She slammed down, her head falling back as she gave me the sexiest damn moan I’d heard in my life.
Fuck me, I’m gonna blow my load before I can even get the full visual.
“Ride me.” I worked her clit and tits. “Fuck yourself with me.”
She did as I ordered, finding her rhythm fast. Getting more confident, she lengthened her movements, going all the way to the tip before her greedy pussy sucked me back in.