I eyeball him. Last time, I backed down a little because I didn’t want to start shit for my brother. But McKayla isn’t TJ, and she can’t protect herself the way he can. “Sounds nice. Gotta tell you, though, I showed her a fair amount of town the other day, didn’t I, McKayla?”
McKayla’s head is ping-ponging between the two of us, the tension palpable. I’m not normally the type to go all hound dog, pissing on what isn’t my territory, but while I might not be good for McKayla, Jaxson damn sure isn’t either.
His voice is tight with strain when he finally replies, looking not at me but at McKayla with a slight sneer in his voice. “Really? McKayla was just telling me that she isn’t looking to date quite yet.”
That wakes her up like a fire alarm shock, and she puts both of her hands flat on the table, not quite smacking but damn near. “You’re right, I did say that. And I’m not dating. Anyone.”
She’s looking at Jaxson, but her words are for me and I know it. Dammit. Sure, I shouldn’t, but I do want her. And I didn’t want to hurt her. I fucked it up pretty badly with her, but since we’re not going any further than this savior moment, it won’t matter in the long run, I guess.
Jaxson slides out of the booth, leaning forward along the edge, almost draping himself across the table to get closer to McKayla. As he does, his voice is smooth and silky like it always is. “I’ll see you around, McKayla.”
He smirks as his eyes trail from her eyes down to her cleavage. My hand curls into a fist against the cold tabletop, and McKayla lays a gentle hand on my thigh. It’s intimate, and as she intended, it stops me instantly, giving me something much better to focus on.
Jaxson sees the gesture too and his jaw clenches. Wordlessly, he stands tall, but his eyes speak plenty. I’ll be seeing him around town, and I’d better watch my ass. I go twenty-six in a twenty-five and the police are going to be pulling me over.
Nobody in the diner seems to move for a second, then McKayla and I watch as Jaxson buttons his suit coat before walking out the door and into the parking lot. I see him pause by my bike, and for split second, I think he’s gonna fuck with it. I follow his sight line and realize he’s staring at my left handlebar, with McKayla’s red panties still wrapped around it.
Technically, they could be anyone’s, but I can tell by the rage on his face that he knows exactly who they belong to. The instant he pulls out of the lot, Mckayla scoots away from me, putting a foot of space between us. “What the fuck was that? Next time, we’ll just pull out a damn tape measure so y’all can compare dicks.”
I shrug, getting out of the booth. “I was just trying to help. Seemed like he wouldn’t leave you alone.”
McKayla rolls her eyes and I can see it. She knows he’s a fuckhead, but she doesn’t realize just how big of a fuckhead he is. “He’s definitely overly persistent, but I’m not some shrinking wallflower that needs a big, strong stud to save her. I was just trying to be nice about it since I still have to live here after I crush his hope that I’ll eventually say yes.”
I huff, replying just a bit too forcefully. “You are definitely no wallflower. You’re a whole damn bouquet of fucking wildflowers.”
I say it without even thinking about how it sounds as it tumbles out of my mouth, but her gasp is instantaneous. Her lip quivers, and her eyes shine as she reaches out, grabbing my wrist. “That is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, but you make it sound like an insult.”
The corners of my lips turn up. I had meant it as a compliment. “You’re too good for that asshat and way too good for a fucker like me.”
Before she can respond, the waitress calls my name for my order. McKayla looks like she’s going to say something else, but I need to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret, like ask her to go for another ride. And not on my bike this time. It’s for her own good, I remind myself again like a record on repeat. I drop a kiss to McKayla’s forehead, memorizing the floral spiciness of her shampoo. Jesus, she smells good. “Bye, Princess.”
McKayla
That’s it! I can’t handle this shit anymore!
I swear I’m going on a man freeze. For the next few decades, the only boyfriend I’m going to have is made by Hitachi and has five speeds.
Since the showdown at the diner, the guy I don’t like keeps doggedly pursing me, sending me a Good Morning, Beautiful text almost every day, and the one I do like has some issues and hasn’t spoken to me since rolling out of the parking lot like Sir Fucking Lancelot on a chromed-out steed.
It’s enough to make a girl crazy. Which is exactly how I’m feeling after another long day at work, where I got to glance out the window at one point to blissfully observe Evan push an SUV into the garage from the street. Watching those broad back and shoulder muscles glisten in the sun while his ass flexed in his tight jeans as he pushed and grunted his way up the slight incline to the garage left my pulse racing.
Thank God my vibrator is as reliable as the sunrise and sunset because that’s about as often as I’ve been using it these days. Invariably during these long, body shaking sessions, my mind wanders to that bike ride with Evan and how he slipped his fingers inside me, nipping at my breasts. It’s probably not the wildest thing I’ve ever done, but with him, it was damn sure the hottest.
Lying on my sofa after stripping out of my blouse and skirt, I replay the two scenes in my mind as my fingers caress my body, sliding across my collarbones to dip down and around my breasts. My nipples harden, ready for more, and I arch into my own touch as my palms graze the sensitive tips. I’ve already stripped off my panties. They’ve been damn-near soaked since seeing Evan today . . . and now the tingle is turning into a flame.
I run a hand down my belly, through the trimmed tuft at the juncture of my legs to cup my needy, puffy pussy lips. Reaching over, I grab the vibrator from its place on my coffee table and spread my bent legs wide. After that show today, I could shatter myself if I don’t take it slow, and I’ve spent enough nights over the past week vibrating myself into a temporary coma.
I turn the vibe on low and immediately gasp, my back bowing at the sensation. Fuck, it’s gonna be fast this time, and I can’t help it. I find a rhythm, pressing the pulsing vibrator inside, then retreating to do a loop higher across my clit and back down to start again. It’s driving me quickly insane as the fantasy of Evan finger fucking me plays out in my mind. Instead of the side of the road, though, it’d be in the garage, a dark, sexy streak of dirt gleaming oily as he shows the whole fucking world how hot he makes me. I’m helpless, clutching at his shoulders while he growls in my ear, ‘You’re a whole damn bouquet of fucking wildflowers’ as I buck, my hips lifting off the couch to crash down again and again. I flip the vibe all the way up for a second as in my mind, I beg him to fuck me. With a naughty grin, in my vision, Evan smiles. “When I want you . . . I’m going to make you mine.”
Unable to resist the truth, I come, my orgasm throbbing in pulses as I thrash on my sofa, glad that I don’t share a wall with anyone.
Brad and I step out of my car as the valet holds the door open. I hand him my keys with a distracted ‘thank you’ because my focus is entirely taken up by the scene in front of me. The huge double doors to the new Mountain Spirit Resort Hotel lobby open wide, letting people move through. Most of them are smiling and relaxed and looking every bit the wealthy tourists this place is becoming known for. In winter, it’ll be slightly different as more snow bunnies show up. But for now, they’re here to enjoy the views and the weather.
I squeal a little bit, reaching out to grab Brad’s hand as we walk inside. Stepping up to the front desk, I give my name to the receptionist, explaining that we have a meeting with Brianna Adams. While she’s not the most famous person in the area, it’s one of those names that still commands respect and gets people to give you just that extra bit of ass kissing.
As we wait, Brad and I sink into the luxurious chairs sprinkled throughout the lobby in little groups. “This place is quite the sight, isn’t
it?” Brad asks, relaxing into the leather seat. “Kinda reminds me of being back home, one of those posh type places that we didn’t get invited to all that often.”
I laugh, nodding. Being a hairdresser to the stars meant that I got to see a lot of the backstage and got to nab some pretty damn fine catering from time to time, but when it came to the VIP after parties . . . yeah, no getting past the velvet rope for me. “It is. Getting this contract with the resort’s event planning services will be a huge deal for us.” I hold my pinkie finger up toward Brad, leaning forward. “All right, we’re promising here . . . we are going to do whatever it takes to get this contract.”
He smiles, linking his pinky with mine. “Obviously. But relax, I know this woman. Well, kind of. So no pinkie promise needed. Save that for the secret shit. This is a for-sure, make us or break us gig, and we’re to do whatever they need. Within reason.”
He smirks, and we giggle a bit, both of us knowing that he’s the one with reason and I’m the one who will just go full-throttle if it’s something I want to do, regardless of the deal. That’s why we work so well together. I make him take risks and he makes me plan things out. He’s the Yin to my Yang, not to mention that we can dish about guys 24/7/365. Actually, although I’d never admit it, he’s pulled more hot guys than I ever have.
I see a gorgeous woman crossing the lobby, headed directly for us. Maybe ten years older than me, she’s got long, luxurious brown hair that makes the stylist in me want to weep. It’s so fucking perfect for just about anything, and she has a body that’s perhaps curvier than mine. I’ve never seen her before, but something tells me she’s our woman. “Heads up, incoming.”
Brianna Adams gives us a big smile as she comes up, exchanging hugs with Brad as if they were long lost friends. “Brad, it’s been too damn long.”
“I know, I’m missed by all who have even touched my divine presence,” Brad jokes. “How’s Mindy? I haven’t had a chance to even go down to her place since getting to town.”
“For which she owes you a butt kicking,” Brianna jokes. “But I get it. And you must be McKayla.”
“It’s a pleasure. Brad’s told me . . . stuff.”
Brianna chuckles, shaking her head. “I’m just the quiet one of the group. Right now, my husband and I are co-owners of this resort, and I’m taking on the task of being the events manager as well. Let’s say it’s our chance to try and make a family business.” She offers her hand as she speaks, and we each shake with her.
“I see when you say family business, you swing for the fences,” I quip, looking around. “Most people would start . . . smaller.”
“Gavin and I never do things small,” Brianna says with a little smile that makes Brad chuckle. I’m confused, but I’ll get the story later, I’m sure. “I’ve heard about your new salon in town. I’m glad you called. Let’s head back to my office.”
We reach the office and settle onto the couches in the gorgeous space. It’s almost like a hotel room in itself, and I can understand why in all the TV shows they just have the characters live at the hotel. I wish I could live in a space like this.
“Okay,” Brianna says, offering us two coffees that are divine. “Let’s get to the good stuff! Can I see your portfolios?” Brad reaches into his bag and pulls out our ‘dick stroker’ book, as he calls it. Brianna flips through, oohing and ahhing over details about my hair work and Brad’s makeup work.
After several minutes of scanning, she looks up, grinning. “Very nice. So, I’ve got two things. One, I’d love to contract with the Triple B Salon to be our go-to service providers for our events. We have our own spa and space that you can use if you’d like, but our spa employees are already stretched thin, and when we have large wedding parties come in, it can be a bit overloaded. It doesn’t make business sense to staff continuously for the events when they’re a few days here and there on the calendar. And let’s be honest, if a bride is getting married here and there are Hollywood stylists in town, she’s gonna book you two. So this will just make it a smoother offering that is automatically available. We do quite a few events, typically one every week, but not all of those are hair- and makeup-type things. Some are conferences and such. But the weddings? Just go ahead and block your entire May, June, and July for them because we’re going to be slammed. You can determine your own fee schedule rates, and the hotel will add a ten percent fee to the top for our take. What do you think?”
Brad and I look at each other, trying not to squeal like the little bitches we currently are. This will be it for us. Our ticket to making sure we make it. Yes, we’ll need regular clients in town to stay busy, but having this contract and volume of work will keep us floating throughout the year, happy as larks. Well, if larks got paid!
Brad finally stops grinning enough to make words. “I think that sounds perfect. The only thing I’d say we should consider is that having us take over your spa space that frequently might be an issue for your appointments there.”
Brianna nods, tapping her well-manicured finger on the desktop. “You’re right. Okay, we’ll see how that works. McKayla, you haven’t said anything yet. Any input?”
I’m still smiling like a loon and just shake my head. “Oh, I’m totally in. I was just wondering how many extra hands Brad and I are going to have to hire if things keep going like this. So I’m in like sin! Sounds like a great deal for both of us, and I’m excited to work with you. My only question is, you said you had two things and that was one. What’s the other?”
Brianna laughs lightly, teasing her long locks. “Oh yes, the other thing is, I’m gonna need you to do my hair! I’ve never had a real Hollywood stylist doll me up. My anniversary is coming up, so I want to really go all out, so you two can do my hair and makeup. Gavin won’t know what hit him!”
As if her talking about him triggered his appearance, there’s a knock on the door. “Bri, you in here?”
A mountain of a man in a custom-made suit comes strutting into the room. I know it’s custom-made because I’ve never seen a suit with that extreme a taper from the shoulders to the waist before. Well, I take that back. One time, I saw one of the Venice Beach bodybuilder guys in a suit in Beverly Hills . . . but this man’s a lot more handsome. He walks straight up to Brianna, picking her up in a bear hug as he plants a big kiss on her lips.
The kiss goes on for a beat longer than is comfortable for us to witness, and I turn to grin at Brad. Brianna and the man, who I’m hoping is her husband after that hot kiss, separate and turn toward us.
“Sorry. I’d say we got carried away, but we’re always like this. McKayla, this is my husband. Honey, this is McKayla, the stylist who opened up a salon in town. And you know Brad, right?”
“Sure do,” Gavin says. “How can I forget the worst dancer at your best friend’s wedding?”
Brad blushes, then glowers at Gavin as they shake hands. “You know, Anaconda, if it wasn’t for the fact that I know you’re lying . . . I’d be tempted to show off a little.”
Gavin laughs before offering a handshake. I think he might squeeze my hand hard enough to accidentally break bones, but he’s surprisingly gentle for his size. “Gavin Adams. It’s a pleasure. I really don’t mean to run out on you guys, but I have to go pick up our son from practice. Takes after his dad, and I gotta admit I’m enjoying it. Honey, you want us to nab anything on the way home?” he says, turning to Brianna.
“No, it’s okay,” Brianna says, giving her husband another hug and a kiss on the cheek. “See you at home.”
Gavin leaves, and a few minutes later, Brad and I leave Brianna after jotting down a few more details. As we walk out, I elbow Brad in the ribs. “Okay, spill it. What’s with the name Anaconda? What, does he hug like one?”
“Hug? No . . . you’re missing a letter in there,” Brad says with a chuckle. We get to my car and get in. “That was Gavin ‘Anaconda’ Adams. He used to be a football star. I haven’t seen a lick of that man playing, but everyone’s seen his accidental wardrobe malfunction. I’
ll just put it this way. If there were ever a snake that I wanted to pet, it’s his.”
Evan
“Come on, you son of a bitch,” I grunt as I try to get the spark plug to seat properly in the engine of ‘Fast’ Eddie Ambrose’s customized Mustang. I gotta admit, he’s done a great job of turning the kit job classic ‘Stang and making it bust out of its pony car seams . . . but that means that underneath the hood, there’s not a spare goddamn inch, and sometimes, the arrangement is difficult. Which is why I only work on Eddie’s car at night or in the early morning, when nobody’s around to piss me off.
I finally get my plug socket seated on the head properly when I hear a scream from across the street. It pierces the darkness of near-midnight and makes me drop my wrench, forgotten instantaneously. My heart pounds in my chest as I forget everything, running across the street.
I see McKayla in front of the Triple B, dressed in just a denim skirt and a t-shirt and looking like she’s ready for a late-night run to the supermarket.
I jump the curb, approaching McKayla, who’s wiping her hands on her skirt like she’s got something burning on her palms. “What is it?” I ask, grabbing her hands. “What the fuck is going on?”
McKayla is staring at her hands, her eyes wide and her skin pale, only two big spots of intense color in her cheeks. “Oh, my God, oh, my God!” she yells, looking like she’s about ready to puke. “Eww!”
“McKayla, calm down!” I say firmly as I hold her cheeks in my hands, trying to get her to snap out of whatever the fuck she’s going through. Her eyes focus on me, and I lower my voice, almost dropping to a whisper. “Tell me what’s going on so I can understand you.”
McKayla takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment before speaking again in a shaky voice. “I was coming out to get in the car. I was feenin’ for a burger and . . .” Mckayla pauses mid-sentence, her control wavering as she points at the car, her chest hitching. “I found that. Look at that shit!”
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