Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1)

by Jessica Prince

  But now… well, now the offer holds absolutely zero appeal.

  Maybe I caught some sort of mountain bug in Wyoming or some shit, kind of like a tapeworm or something.

  Note to self: make an appointment with a doctor on Monday.

  “That’s a tempting offer, honey,” I offered, not having a fucking clue what her name was, “and it kills me to turn it down—”

  “Then don’t,” she interrupted. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she giggled.

  I tried to will my dick to cooperate. I even shot up a prayer to God for a little help—looking back, that might not have been the best idea—but still, nothing.

  “I’m gonna have to pass,” I told her gently, trying my best to ignore the shocked faces of my cousins and best friend. No doubt, I was going to get some serious shit for this.

  “Oh, come on,” she tried to coax playfully, but the combination of my misbehaving dick and my insatiable desire for a certain red-headed she-devil only made the woman’s light pushing more annoying.

  “Damn woman! No means no!” I snapped, a little too aggressively if my friends’ hysterical laughter was anything to go on. “I’m not in the mood, so just back off!”

  With a bewildered expression, she teetered back on her sky-high heels. “You’re not in the mood?” she asked, dumfounded.

  “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

  “You’re not in the mood?”

  I felt my agitation growing the longer she stood in front of me. “Repeating it won’t change the outcome, sweetheart.”

  “But… you’re always in the mood!” she declared. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ve banged at least three of my friends! You never turn down no-strings sex. It’s what you’re known for.”

  Jesus Christ, when you manage to gain a reputation known far and wide in a place as populated as fucking Manhattan, you know there’s a goddamned problem. The picture the chick drew of me wasn’t so appealing. It wasn’t like I was afraid of commitment. I wasn’t! Honest. I just hadn’t found a woman who held my interests long enough to even consider the possibility. And the one woman in particular who was taking up all my head space was so off limits she might as well have been surrounded by an electrical fence wrapped in razor wire.

  So I liked sex, sue me. What I didn’t like was some chick with rock-hard plastic tits in my shit because I’m not in the mood. For Christ’s sake! Could no one see I was sick?

  Turning my full attention to the woman who managed to get on my bad side by no fault of her own, I narrowed my eyes, wiping away all signs of the playful mask I wore on nights I was looking to hook up. “Well, seeing as my reputation is so popular, it can’t have escaped your attention that I don’t double dip. Once I’ve had pussy, I don’t go back. No exceptions.”

  Her over-glossed lips curled into a grin I’d seen a million times. It screamed of possession and the naïve belief that she could be the one to tame me. “Bet I could change your mind,” she said confidently.

  My head was pounding and my night out with the guys had officially gone down the toilet. Rolling my eyes on a sigh, I informed her, “Wouldn’t be the first woman to think that and I doubt you’ll be the last. And just like the rest of them, you’d be wrong. I’m sure there’s some guy out there who’d cream his shorts for a shot at you, but I’m not one of ‘em, so I’d suggest you stop wasting your time and effort on me and start looking for that guy.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she sneered.

  I was suddenly overcome with exhaustion and wanted nothing more than to call it a night and wash my hands of the entire fucked up situation. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration as I muttered, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “And you’re bad in bed!”

  Okay, now I could handle a pissed off woman, but what I couldn’t handle was a bold-faced liar. “I said tell me something I didn’t know. I didn’t say make up ridiculous lies.”

  “Go fuck yourself!” she shouted before turning and storming off.

  “This is all your fault, you son of a bitch,” I mumbled to my soft dick before turning back to our high top table.

  “Wow,” Richard laughed. “Smooth, man. Got the ladies eating right out of your hand, don’t you?”

  I glared as I asked, sarcastically, “This coming from the man who hasn’t gotten any since getting divorced?”

  “Not true.” Rowan lifted his gin and tonic in the air to catch my attention. “Richie boy hasn’t gotten laid since before his divorce. Seeing as he finally discovered that his wife was a soul-sucking vampire he got so scared any time she was around, his balls practically climbed back up into his body.”

  Richard turned and punched his brother, and that set off just one of the many fights that had taken place in the last several months since those two mended fences. “Ah! Shit!” Rowan yelled. “Stop pulling my hair!”

  The corners of my mouth twitched of their own accord as I fought to keep from laughing. I was pissed and I wanted to stay that way.

  “Well,” Dex started, completely ignoring the grown-ass men at his side currently trying to put each other in a headlock. “All I gotta say is I’m glad you and Pepper hate each other.” He laughed before taking a long pull of his beer, oblivious to the fact that he just struck a painful blow. He wasn’t being a dick purposely, just ragging on a friend like we’d always done. But that knowledge didn’t stop the sting. “If I had to worry about her being in your crosshairs I’d probably have a heart attack before I even hit forty.”

  And just like always, the reminder that I wasn’t good enough for his baby sis was like salt in a wound. Knowing how Dex saw me didn’t sit well, but I’d made my own bed, so there really wasn’t anyone to blame but myself.

  There were times I thought about setting him straight, proving him wrong. I considered telling him about my and Pepper’s past, but deep down, I knew nothing good would come of that. For one, Dex was right, she did hate me. She made that clear any time we were in the same room for the past four years. Secondly, and frankly, the most important reason I had was that it just wasn’t worth the risk.

  The bond we had was closer than brothers. Life or death situations, I could count on that man day in and day out to have my back. That trust never wavered. Not once. Dex was a constant while his sister was an unknown. The truth was, me and Pepper together were so volatile there was no way I could put my faith in any kind of relationship between us lasting more than the few months it would take for the sex to finally grow stale. The unknowns just weren’t worth it.

  I needed to find a way to get that fiery woman out of my head before I finally jerked off so much the damn thing just fell right off.

  I was done. With everything swirling around in my life, from work, to my broken dick and possible fatal illness, to the shit in my head about Pepper, I was bone tired and mind weary. I needed sleep.

  I was just about to announce my departure when, not surprisingly, Dex got there first. “All right guys, I’m out.”

  “What?” Richard asked. “But we haven’t even been here all that long. You can’t leave yet, man.”

  “Sorry, man. I gotta get home to Wendy and Ivy. My little girl hasn’t been sleeping through the night for some reason, and Wendy only agreed to me coming out tonight if I was on baby duty until ten tomorrow.”

  “Pussy-whipped,” Rowan ribbed good-naturedly. Giving Dex hell about his domestication was all in good fun. We loved Wendy. And if I was the kind of guy to want kids, his one-year old daughter, Ivy, would be the kind of kid I wanted.

  “And you don’t see me complaining, one bit, do you?” Dex chuckled as he flicked his wrist and started for the door.

  I took Dex’s departure as my excuse as well and pulled the wallet out of my back pocket, dropping a few bills on the table. “I’m calling it, too. I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

  Rowan quickly followed suit. “I’m with you.”

  “Bunch of pussies,” Richard grumbled at the loss of potential wingmen. “Nin
e months…”

  “Nine months what?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

  “Haven’t gotten laid in nine fuckin’ months,” he pouted. Seriously, the man was actually pouting. “If I don’t see some action soon, I’m pretty sure my balls are gonna shrivel up and fall off. My divorce is finally final, that bitch is off my back, I’m not buried in a goddamned case, and can actually breathe long enough to enjoy a night out, and you guys are bailing on me. Weak, man.”

  Jesus, nine months! And I thought I was suffering. I almost felt sorry for the guy and was considering toughing out another hour or two… until Rowan opened his mouth.

  With a laugh, Rowan stated, “Sorry, bro, but the state of your pathetic pecker isn’t my problem. Navie had girls’ night with Pepper at the apartment, so odds are she’s drunk enough to let me do certain things she’s deemed off limits. That trumps you being at risk of growing a vagina.”

  Richard dove for his brother and another pathetic wrestling match ensued. “Take it back, you bastard!” Richard grunted as he and Rowan fought for the upper hand.

  “Never, dipshit!”

  It really was a sad sight, but I could only focus on one thing. “Pepper’s over at your apartment right now?”

  Suddenly, I wasn’t so tired after all.

  GIRLS’ NIGHT IN MY ass.

  I was pissed. And it had nothing to do with the fact that all I’d done since arriving at Navie and Rowan’s apartment was skim through one bridal magazine after the next, and everything to do with the flaming homo on the couch next to me who decided to crash our little party.

  “Girl, I’m telling you, ice white is so the way to go!” I glared at Tomas—pronounced Toe-maas or you courted bodily harm—hoping I would develop heat vision in the next two seconds so I could melt his skin off.

  Usually, I loved Tomas. That was why he was such a good friend and employee, but when it came to wedding planning, he turned into an opinionated bitch from hell.

  “Is ice white even a thing?” Navie asked, slurring somewhat due to too much alcohol consumption.

  “It wouldn’t look good with her coloring,” I informed in. “And anyway, the big day isn’t until next summer and you’re already acting like a wedding Nazi. Slow your roll, Tommy Boy. You’re taking all the fun out of girls’ night in and killing my buzz,” I chided as I took a massive gulp of my wine, intentionally using the nickname I knew damn good and well he despised.

  “I’ll cut a bitch,” he warned, causing me to roll my eyes.

  Tomas had been working for me since I opened Fire & Ice when I was twenty-one. I’d lost count of how many times he’d threatened to cut me within the first week of his employment.

  That was probably one of the reasons I loved him so much. He was the quintessential gay. A flaming fashionista with a sassy personality who wasn’t afraid to speak the truth, no matter how much it hurt. He was flashy and flamboyant, so much so, his sexual orientation was obvious from at least a mile away. I totally dug all of that, it made my days go fast. The only problem was his mood swings. And God, was he one moody little bitch.

  Think Jack from Will and Grace on the first day of his period with no Midol in sight. That was Tomas.

  “Okay, I’m back,” Harlow’s disembodied voice called from the laptop screen sitting on the coffee table in front of us. “Jeez, I swear I have to pee every five seconds! So what’d I miss?”

  “Can we not have a play-by-play of your bathroom antics, please?” Tomas cringed.

  “Kiss my ass, Gay in the City,” Harlow shot back. “I’m five months pregnant, I’ll talk about my bladder functions as often as I want. It’s one of the perks of having an alien growing inside of me. I can pretty much do or say whatever I want.” Her mouth spread into an evil smirk as she trained her gaze on Tomas. “For instance… vagina. Vagina, vagina, vagina!”

  “Oh, God! Make it stop!” Tomas cried as he covered his ears. You’d think the man was a virgin who’d been sheltered from all things sexual based on his reaction to one simple word. The truth was, the man was a raging whore, having banged most of the gay men in the city, and some who’s sexual orientation was a bit… shaky.

  “Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina!” Harlow continued to yell as Navie and I fell over in an uncontrollable fit of drunken giggles.

  “Uh…” a deep, masculine voice echoed through the computer before Harlow’s husband, Noah, popped up on the screen behind her. “You wanna tell me why you’re yelling vagina at the top of your lungs, wildflower?”

  “She’s screwing with Tomas,” Navie laughed in answer.

  Noah gave us a knowing grin that, I swear to God, made my belly flutter just a little. I know the man was married to one of my besties, but I wasn’t blind. The dude was f.i.n.e! “Ah, that explains it,” he chuckled, earning a steely-eyed glare from Tomas which he ignored. “Can I just ask you to keep it down a bit? Ethan has some friends over and I think your little outburst might have just scarred him for life.”

  Harlow’s happy laughter sounded through Navie’s living room before Noah leaned in and kissed his wife then left the room. My chest expanded with happiness for my friend who’d finally gotten the happily ever after she so deserved. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter that my closest friends were all finding the loves of their lives, and there I was, having given the most important gift I could to a man years ago, that I thought was The One for me, only to have him tap dance on it like one of those stupid Irish river dancers my grandma loved to watch so much.

  Fuck you very much, Griffin Locklaine.

  Tomas’s voice cut through my depressing musings and pulled me back into reality. “Can we please get back on topic here?”

  “Not if that topic contains the words, ice white, princess gown, or crystals,” I warned, having already vetoed all three of those suggestions. “None of that is Navie. She needs something classic, like ivory lace. Think Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn.”

  “Ooh, I like that,” Harlow gasped.

  “I do too,” at the strange, huskiness of Navie’s voice, I turned my attention to her to find her denim colored eyes pinned on me, sparkling with excitement that I’d just described something right up her alley.

  “B-b-but…” he stuttered, refusing to give up the ghost. “With Navie’s coloring, ice white would make her look like a star!” His arm arced through the air so dramatically that I couldn’t suppress my annoyed groan.

  I stood from my place on the couch and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to need a lot more wine if we’re going to keep talking about this.”

  “Bring the bottle!” Navie called out to me. “I need a refill.”

  I made a pit stop at the bathroom to check my lipstick and fluff my hair. As I gazed into the mirror, I smiled at the fact that I loved what I saw. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t conceited in the least, but growing up I’d always felt uncomfortable in my own skin. It had taken me years, but I’d finally found the me I truly wanted to be: all red lips, red hair, high-heeled, fifty’s pinup with attitude. I felt comfortable, hell, even beautiful some days. My look was my armor. Tomas once described me as “fierce and fiery.”

  I loved that. So I did what I could to own it.

  Thanks to the wine, my cheeks were a little rosier and my green eyes were glassy and bright. I wasn’t sloppy drunk, not by a long shot, but I’d had just enough wine to feel loose and carefree. As I opened the bathroom door and flipped off the light, I told myself I’d only allow myself one or two more glasses. I had to open the boutique in the morning. The last thing I needed was a massive wine hangover.

  Rounding the corner of the hall that led into the kitchen, I grabbed the opened bottle of Cabernet from the counter and began refilling my glass when a low, melodic voice that made me melt and set me on edge all at the same time spoke from behind me.

  “Hey there, sweetness.”

  Son of a bitch in hell.

  Griffin friggin Locklaine.

  The bane of my existence. The
man who’d clog-danced all over my heart. The all-around pain in my ass.

  My night had officially been shot to hell.

  Letting out a pained sigh, I poured the wine a little longer than I usually would, filling the glass to the brim. Screw my one or two more rule. If I was going to be stuck in the presence of Griffin, I needed a lot more booze. I turned around to face the sex-on-legs bastard.

  “Shit for Brains,” I offered by way of greeting.

  “Satan’s Mistress,” he nodded with a deep chuckle that had my traitorous body tightening with pleasure.

  “And I’d been having such a good night,” I lamented before taking a nice, long gulp.

  “I can make it even better,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry as a grin curved his stupidly sexy lips up. Doing my best to shove down the flutter low in my belly, I rolled my eyes on a snort.

  “What? Already bang all the club whores you ran into tonight?” I asked snidely, even though picturing him with those women still knocked the breath out of me like a well-placed punch. I hated how much it still hurt me after all this time. Despite the fact that my gut churned, I had my armor in place and masked the hurt with a look of disdain.

  Griffin shrugged casually and took a step closer. “Didn’t see anything I wanted.”

  Reaching out, he took the wine glass from my hand. “Hey! That’s mine!”

  “I know.” Turning the glass so that his lips pressed right against the red lipstick staining the rim, he took a sip before running his tongue along the edge. His arrogant actions had my palm twitching to smack that smug look right off his handsome face at the same time tingles sparked between my thighs. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Always loved a good red.” His tone dripped with innuendo, then he winked. The asshole actually winked at me!

  “Give me that!” I snatched my glass back and wiped the rim with a towel from the counter. I chugged the rest of the contents and poured a refill. The only way I could tolerate Griffin’s company was if I was completely blitzed. “What are you even doing here?”