Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1)

by Rie Warren

  I whispered, “Why do I already miss you?”

  “Don’t. Don’t miss me, Josh.”

  “Then don’t leave me, Leelee.” Leelee for lust, Leelee for love, Leelee for so long-gone. Soft and warm and pretty. Wholesome and innocent minx.

  She snuggled deeper and I didn’t want to lose this thing I’d never had. I wrapped her tighter in my arms. Fuck me. I’ve become a cuddler. “You feel good.”

  “Mmm.” She murmured, her thigh sliding between mine. “You feel hard, Stone.”

  “It’s Josh.”

  “I know. I just like you hard.”

  Killing me.

  “Gonna stay ’til morning?” I asked.

  “No choice.”

  With my fingertips beneath her chin, I made her look at me. “That’s not the answer I’m lookin’ for.”

  Wariness and want clashed within her eyes. “For now. For you.”

  Smoothing her hair away from her face until it coiled along my chest, I lingered over her lips, kissing her softly. After she slipped back into sleep, I released a ragged breath. I imprinted the feel of her on my body before finally drifting off.

  In the morning, I woke up, alone. I scanned the room, but she was gone along with a pair of my shorts, the T-shirt I’d offered her last night, her heels and bag. The dress I’d destroyed lay in a heap on the floor, just like my heart.

  Ravage the fair maiden much, asshole?

  I crossed both arms over my face. Emptiness surrounded me. The last time I’d felt this heavy weight was when my dad died. I didn’t even consider looking for a note from Leelee. She wouldn’t leave one. It wasn’t her style, and besides, she’d pretty much said it all last night when she told me we had to stop doing this.

  I pulled her pillow on top of my face, smothering myself in her scent. I lay like that until I threw the pillow aside and stood up.

  “Screw this.” I wasn’t some fancy-pants pushover.

  This time I knew just where to find Leelee—someplace she couldn’t hide, someplace she couldn’t run from me.

  The book fair.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Saturday: Book Fair Fiasco

  I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT I was going to do when I got to Leelee, but I had the fastest shower on record. I was even speedier than the kid when he thought I wasn’t paying attention at bath time and tried to get away with a splash and dash. I tried telling him Daddy has eyes in the back of his head, but that just wigged him out.

  Dressed, deodorized, and aftershaved for the non-shave, I hustled into jeans and whatever shirt came to hand. The green Henley. It highlighted my hazel eyes and rugged good looks, at least that’s what Ma had said when she’d given it to me. Fuck it, it passed the sniff test, it’d do. Striding to the grand hall, I thought about making a big Lifetime Movie of the Week scene. Chicks liked that weepy, get-your-Kleenex-out shit. Or maybe a John Cusack Say Anything grand gesture . . . minus the boom box and serenading, although Leelee did have a thing for my singing.

  Maybe I’d haul her into my arms, drag her back to my room, and tie her to the bed until she listened to common sense, then fuck her silly again.

  That sounded like a plan.

  The line was backed up beyond the room leading into the book fair, and it had already been going for an hour and a half. These romance readers were hardcore junkies. Growing increasingly impatient, I finally made it into the room before the room I needed to reach. Inside, dozens of random companies hawked their wares from body art to glass bongs, to cover model agencies. When I came up beside Big Blond from the Guys with Balls competition displaying his wares, we bumped fists. He introduced me to the Bad Boys for Books rep, talking me up like I was the next big thing since Fabio. I shook hands and gritted my teeth in a smile.

  I accepted a business card with a, “Sure, yeah. I’ll call you if I’m ever interested”—not likely. I made my way forward slower than the kid getting ready for Sunday School when I took him to church once a month.

  Nametag checked, I finally entered the promised land of pervy books . . . and a squealing mass of arms, legs, and—what the fuck—feathers bounded up to me.

  Jules Gem. She didn’t have a megaphone, but she was still attached to her mic. She gestured for her camera guy to get a close up. “Stone! We’ve been waiting for you to show. You’re such a dark horse celeb at LitLuv.”

  “Uh . . .” I frowned down at her, trying to come to grips with her outfit du jour. It consisted of some white feathery sweater thing that made my nose itch. “Hi, Miss Gem?”

  “Oh, look at you!” She slapped my arm, not so playfully. “You remembered not to call me ma’am, aren’t you a darling. Can you say that to the camera for me?”

  “Huh?”

  “Darling. Go on now, put some of that sexy southern feeling into it.” She simpered into the lens with a huge conspiratorial wink.

  Remembering the trouble I’d gotten into during the flash mob, I asked, “This thing live?”

  “Of course, Stone. Nothing scripted here. As we always say at the beginning of our broadcasts: You LitLuv it, we live it!”

  I grinned at the sheer audacity of the woman. Nothing scripted my ass. “Sure, darlin’, whatever you say.”

  Flapping her hands around in some sort of funky swoon-dance, she cut back to me. “Are there any authors you want to meet today, Stone? Who’s your favorite?” She shivered in a display of delight.

  “Nicky Love’s my man. But I’ve also been taken with Leelee Songchild.” In more ways than one, and hopefully in more ways to come.

  “Isn’t she just gorgeous.” Jules’s eyes widened dramatically.

  Hell yes, she was.

  “And can our Leelee ever write!” She turned to the camera, aiming a massive smile at it. “New Adult author has Stone under her spell. New Adult, everyone! It’s the new black.”

  Giving a practiced view of her profile, Jules slanted her eyes at me. “And we’ll have a huge feature on Stone coming in the August issue of LitLuv magazine. Because he’s big, he’s brawny, he is all that. I’ll be in touch with Stone after the convention, folks, because I live right down the road from him on Isle of Palms.” She pointed at me for the viewers. “All of him, for all of you. Isn’t it purrrfect?”

  What the hell? She was about ten minutes down the road from my garage. Life was never gonna be the same. “You’re just a stone’s throw away from me, huh?”

  She smiled at the camera then motioned for the dude to stop rolling. “That’s right. Great tagline, Stone, I think we’ll use it. And the feature I’m doing on you? Full photo spread, mm ’kay?”

  “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that, Miss Gem.”

  She swung toward me, pure feminine menace. “You don’t have to be comfortable, just hot. And you can do that with both hands tied behind your back.” Her eyes clouded. “Oh! Now there’s an idea . . .”

  Oh hell no, there is not!

  Before I could stage a protest, Jules sauntered off, back in full Queen of the Con mode. I could just imagine her at the shop, digging up all my old dirt and getting cozy with Ray over a goddamn latte or some such Starbucks shit.

  I’d worry about that later, after I made my peace with Leelee.

  I scanned the cavernous overcrowded, overheated room, looking for any kind of landmark. Spotting big banners swinging above tables arranged in long lines, I read the genres boldly splashed across them in flames of red until I located New Adult. There was only about half an acre of concrete floor, sweating book hungry mobs, and possibly another Jules ambush between me and the most populated area taking up the far right corner.

  I smiled when I saw Leelee had her own special promotional banner above a table heaving with fans. That’s my girl.

  I started in her direction. Unfortunately, I saw Nicky off to the side in the Paranormal lane, flagging me down. His suspenders dripped from his waist, the collar of his shirt was undone three buttons, and some broad had her hands all over his chest.

  Obviously caught in the mid
dle of a heated moment he wasn’t all too happy about, he gave the man-to-man distress signal of wide-eyed horror.

  “Goddammit.” After last night I owed him a save.

  Making my way over with lots of shouldering, elbowing and “’Scuse me, ma’am, pardon me, miss,’” I planted my hip on the table. I enjoyed several moments of Nicky’s unease while his fangirl fawned all over him.

  I cleared my throat. Arching an eyebrow, I went for the highhanded, he’s-mine look.

  Chicky looked up, blinked big brown eyes, and pressed her lips together.

  I leaned over her to Nicky, “Is there a problem here, lover?”

  Chicky backed up. She scowled between the two of us with impressive fury. I moved between her and Nicky, and she craned around me, sputtering, “But—but, you said it wasn’t true!”

  Ha. “Yeah.” I caressed up my man’s arm and into his hair, jerking him to me over the table. He murmured death threats under his breath. It was funny. My thumb rode up and down the pulse of his neck, making sure Chicky saw he was mine and I owned him. “There seems to be a lot of that goin’ around.”

  Guess I knew where he’d spent the night . . . because we were both so good about the hush-hush, down-low shit. Shee-it.

  Chicky’s glare turned lethal, but hers was no comparison to Jules Gem’s weapon of mass intimidation. I did feel bad when she marched around me to lay a resounding smack on Nicky’s cheek. Fucker deserved it though, as much as I had when Leelee slapped me at The Golden Banana.

  She stomped away and I turned Nicky loose.

  “So, you’re hitting that?” She wasn’t his type—too easy—but I’d be willing to bet he’d docked, cocked, and loaded the Good Ship Hot-to-Trot.

  “It was either that or bunk with Missy.” He carefully rearranged his books, his swag, his PDA running a mini-slideshow of his book covers.

  “Thanks for your sacrifice last night.”

  “Thanks for the bro-move just now.”

  We exchanged back slaps. “Think nothin’ of it. At least you got laid, man.”

  He was already smiling and inviting a group of women to approach him. “You too, huh?”

  “I don’t fuck and tell.” Rubbing my mouth, I looked out over the crush of people, regaining my compass point on Leelee. My heart knocked around like a loose piston in my chest.

  “Since when?”

  “Since Leelee. That’s when.” I patted my palm to my tat, and he knew exactly what that meant. It was right over my heart and held the other two things I loved—cars and the kid.

  “Shee-it.”

  “Yeah.” I met his eyes, nodding, just as surprised as him.

  Nicky pulled me to him with a long, hard hug. “Jesus, Josh.”

  “Yeah.” I grinned as I backed away.

  I threaded my way through a cluster of teen girls and their mamas converged around a YA author, all glittery nails, sparkly faces, and too much floral perfume. I ended up face-to-face with a well-endowed woman who grabbed both my arms.

  “Stone! I saw you in Guys with Balls. I’ve gotta get your autograph.”

  “Mom! You are not getting your boobs signed again this year.” Her teenaged daughter sounded mortified.

  I’d have been a little shocked myself if the same thing hadn’t already happened with another busty broad, right after said show.

  “Oh yes, I am. It’s tradition. Besides, this is The Stone.” She shoved a Sharpie in my hand. Yanking a side of her shirt lower, she bared a good acre of tit. “Use as much space as you need. Make it out to Marianne with an i, okay?”

  We were drawing a crowd so I kept it short and simple: To a beautiful lady, Marianne. All the best, Stone.

  I accepted her hug then hurried off before any other body parts became available for autographs. I’d made it all of ten feet when I heard the tail end of Jules’s high-pitched screech. I thought about her promise, aka threat, to track me down in Mt. Pleasant. At the rate my day was going, maybe I oughtta head her off at the pass. Pulling out my phone, I called the garage.

  “Stone’s, just a stone’s throw away,” Ray answered.

  I tore the phone away from my ear and glared at it. Then I snarled into it, “Excuse me?” Oh hell no. And how the fuck had they heard that bullshit already?

  “Just saw you on the convention broadcast online. We thought it sounded catchy.”

  “Yeah? I catch you using it one more time and I’ll make sure all of y’all never collect another phone number from the female clientele again.” I gripped the phone harder. “It’s Stone’s, at your service.”

  “Isn’t it just.” A feminine voice simpered beside me.

  Christ. Missy Peachtree, not at your service.

  I muffled the phone. “Shouldn’t you be signing—I don’t know—whips or something?” Hell, I was signin’ tits, why not?

  She smacked my ass with a wide-open palm. “Great idea. But paddles have much more room to personalize.” As usual she gave as good as she got before melting into the crowd from which she’d materialized.

  The phone pressed back to my ear, I listened to Ray ramble on. “We hooked up the laptop to the big TV in the reception area so everyone can watch the goings-on over in ’Lanta.”

  I didn’t know you could do that. I wished they didn’t know either. Now all my escapades would be the talk of Mt. Pleasant.

  “And just before you called I got off the phone with that Jules Gem. She wanted to check your schedule for next month. I figured we could use the publicity, so I offered her a free oil change.”

  Too bad she thought I was a foreign car dealer. Thank God most of this shit wouldn’t hit the fan until after the Con. “Good idea about the oil change. Maybe we can keep her sweet.”

  “If anyone can, it’s you.” I heard Ray ringing up a sale and shouting a loud hello as the bell over the door chimed.

  Damn, I missed that place. “Is the garage still standing?”

  “Yup.”

  “Everyone still working his ass off for me?”

  “’Course, boss. So long as you don’t come back and try to fuck our asses.” He snorted loud and clear.

  “Keep it up, funny guy, and I got a tire iron with your name on it.” When I looked back over to Leelee’s corner of the room, I still couldn’t get a visual on her. “I’ll see you Monday. Make sure someone brings a box of condoms and a big bottle of lube. Limber up, motherfucker.”

  I hung up on him wheezing with laughter. Yeah. Let’s see what they make of that.

  “Yo, Stone!” Fawn flagged me down from the opposite direction of Leelee’s table.

  Dressed in a chambray shirt, cowboy boots, and a tangle of turquoise jewelry, she reached me with a smile on her tanned face. “Come meet my girlfriend. I told her all about you and Nicky.”

  I liked Fawn, I really did, but people needed to get out of my way. “Can I take a rain check? Maybe meet her at the banquet tonight? I’m trying to get a book signed for my ma before this thing finishes.” I lied through my teeth.

  She prodded me on my way.

  Ducking and diving around the masses between Leelee and me, I slammed my hands over my ears when I heard a shriek attached to my name.

  Petite Felicity was flushed to her hairline. Her catwoman glasses slid down her nose as she bounced up and down in excitement. “You’ve got to see this! I just had my picture taken with Leelee Songchild and I posted it on Twitter.” Hugging my arm, she scrolled through her photos. “She’s such a sweetie. I’m totally following her on everything.”

  I was tempted to stay long enough to drink in the picture because, by God, this might be the closest I got to Leelee all day judging by my luck so far. But I had a fucking grand gesture to make.

  “That’s cool, Felicity, but I’m trying to say hi to her myself before the fair closes.”

  She slid her glasses back up and gave me a toothy grin. “Good luck with that. Her readers are like über crazy. You’ve got half an hour left.”

  Hunching my shoulders, I maneuvered in the
right direction, silently cursing every single motherfucker in the hall. Swinging my head to the left, I saw Fred leaning against a table in the Contemporary lane. He sent me two thumbs up, and I saluted him with a one finger wave. He must’ve been sweating his balls off in that tweed jacket.

  I put my head down and motivated until I ran straight into a wall of muscle even bigger than me. Steadied by a pair of dark hands on my arms, I rolled my eyes.

  The last of the Widows, Devon, leaned over me. “Looks like you’ve got yourself some more admirers.”

  I followed his stare and thought about diving behind the slightly larger man. I was being targeted by the LolliPOP Grrrls. Devon loped away with a laugh, leaving me to face the blatant eye-fucking of the book review bloggers. Or, bloggesses, as I’d been informed.

  “Hey, Stone,” Blow Pop sucker simpered.

  I wondered how I was gonna get away from them as they cornered me like I was schoolboy prey to their two-fold sexual attack. “Hi, ladies.”

  Hoodie grrrl plinked a tongue ring against her teeth. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

  “We saw your dance with Leelee Songchild. You may be a butch gay, but it looks like you’re bi, and we’d like a taste of that.” The blonde tease twirled her tongue around the tip of the glistening red lollipop.

  In the old days, pre-Leelee—precisely four days ago—I might’ve taken them up on their offer. However, no one got my motor revving like Leelee, and I surely wasn’t into easy pussy anymore.

  “Sorry, ladies. I’m not available.”

  I left them whispering behind me when an announcement rang out of the loudspeakers stating the book fair would close in fifteen minutes. Jesus Christ. I’d been here a full hour and a half, cockblocked north, south, east, and west by all the usual suspects. I’d yet to get to Leelee, let alone make my huge fucking gesture that would have her turning into a pile of mush in my arms.

  I skidded to a stop with Leelee’s table finally in sight. The pack gathered around her had slimmed down, but the person I saw shining from all the attention didn’t resemble Leelee. In fact, I didn’t recognize her at all until the big apple green of her eyes lifted to the person whose book she was signing.