Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1) (4 page)

“Thank you,” I said.
 

Winking, he took a sip and swallowed. “Welcome.”

The room fell into awkward silence, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking in every one of his features. His dark brown hair was longer in the front, swept to the side in a casual way that made me think he ran his fingers through it often.
 

Speaking of fingers…

My gaze traveled down to his hands, and a tingle of lust shot through me. He worked with his hands; there was no doubt about that.
I bet they’d be rough to the touch…

I stopped those thoughts dead in their tracks, heat creeping to my face as I looked away. Why the hell was I checking out another guy when Cameron was asleep in the next room?
 

Jesus. Just drink your coffee.

The silence between us was thick, and I took a peek at him, but then regretted it. His gaze lingered on my face, intense and curious. Feeling unnerved at the way he was watching me so intently, I decided to break the tension.
 

Clearing my throat, I said, “So, you’re Cameron’s roommate?”

“Well, I’m definitely not his lover.”

The coffee I had just sipped came sputtering back up, and my face burned with heat as he tossed me a hand towel. I dabbed it at my mouth, wanting to crawl into a hole. “Right. Thanks.” Nothing else wanted to come out, and I had to blame the early morning hour on my lack of witty repartee. I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he had me feeling intimidated.
Think, Ryleigh, think. Suck down that coffee, let the caffeine fuel your brain, and come up with something hilarious.
Now would be good. Any day now…

“And you would be?” he asked.

Oh, of course. I’m the stranger sleeping on his couch. Brilliant.

“Ryleigh Phillips,” I said. “I went to school with Cameron.”

“Oh, right, the reunion. That was last night?”

When I nodded in the affirmative, he cocked his head to the side. “You know, if you’d been my guest, I wouldn’t have made you sleep on the couch.” He unleashed a full-wattage smile at me then as I sat there, only able to blink.
 

And wouldn’t you know it, right about the time I was staring at him, stupefied, would be the moment Cameron’s bedroom door opened.

Still dressed in the outfit he’d fallen asleep in the night before, Cameron stood in the doorway looking slightly rumpled but nowhere near as rough as I had upon waking. When he saw me, he dropped the hand that had been gripping the back of his neck, his expression somewhere between surprise and relief.
 

“Hey,” he said, a slow grin crossing his face.

 
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to get up, run out the door, hug him, or what, so I just stayed ass-planted on the stool while I waited for him to make a move. “Hey.”
 

“Hey,” the other male voice in the room said, mimicking us, and it hit me then that I hadn’t even bothered asking his name.
 

“Oh what’s up, man,” Cameron said, walking toward the kitchen bar. He nodded at me. “I see you met Ryleigh.”

“Mhmm. I told her it’d be wise to grab coffee before your grumpy ass woke up.”

Cameron made a face at me. “He lies. I’m never grumpy.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if I tell you I took the last of the creamer,” his roommate said.

“What?” Cameron picked up the empty creamer bottle from the counter and shook it. “You’re a bastard.”

Dark-headed guy poured the rest of his coffee into a travel mug and then wiggled his eyebrows. “Enjoy your day, you two. Nice to meet you, Ryleigh.”
 

“Good to meet you too, uh…” I didn’t get a chance to ask who he was before he’d grabbed his keys and was out the front door.

“Hunter,” Cameron said, filling in his name for me. “Feel free to call him asshole, though.” He tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin before resting his elbows on the counter opposite me. He looked apologetic and a little embarrassed. “I am so, so sorry—”

I waved him off. “No, it’s fine. Really. No need to apologize.”

“It’s just…that’s never happened before.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re talking about premature ejaculation.” And then I realized what the fuck I’d just said. “Uh…I mean…”

Cameron stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and bursting into laughter. “No,
that
would’ve been much worse.”

My face dropped to my hands and I moaned. “Sorry. Caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Nah, I like this lack of filter. But Ryleigh…” He looked at Hunter’s open bedroom door and then back at me. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“AND THEN?”

I tugged at the edge of my apron in an attempt to avoid the three pairs of eyes staring bug-eyed at me. “And then he walked me to my car.”

“And then you…?” Shayne asked.

“Went home,” I said.

“Wait a minute, can we talk about the fact that he made you sleep on his couch?” Paige’s eyebrows were raised up to practically her hairline. “I’m sorry, but in what fucking universe is that acceptable? Why didn’t you call Quinn to pick you up?”

“He didn’t make me, geez. He passed out and it was late, and I thought maybe…you know. Morning sex.”

Shayne cocked an eyebrow. “And did that happen?”

“Well, no. Hunter made me coffee, and then Cameron woke up and…that’s it.”

“Wait,” Quinn interrupted. “You slept in an apartment with two guys and
both
of them had you sleeping on the couch? Jesus, Ryleigh, it’s against man-code for that to happen. Did you wear a chastity belt last night or something?”

I groaned, my head falling into my hands. Of course the girls would give me a hard time. I’d been talking up tackling Cameron at the reunion for weeks, so my body wasn’t the only one feeling let down.
 

Still, I was seriously regretting inviting them over for a powwow at my shop during our off hours.
 

“I think I need another shot of vodka in my Feisty Ho-bag now.” Paige pushed her glass stemware toward me, and I grabbed a liquor bottle from behind the bar and tipped some into her glass.
 

Boozy shakes. They were the bread and butter of Licked during the brunch and evening hours, and the main reason for the expansion next door. I glanced at the black tarp hanging over the doorway that led to the space I’d bought a few months ago and sighed. Construction was running behind, and it was too late to hire another company if I wanted to keep the launch date set.

And I
had
to keep the date set.
 

“So are you seeing him again?” Shayne asked, dunking her cherry through the layers of baklava bits and whipped cream on top of her Nibble My Nuts shake. “I will totally get involved if I need to.”
 

No doubt she’d be successful. She basically ran one of the top matchmaking companies in the city, not that you’d know it from her degrading pay scale. Her boss was a fucking nightmare, but Shayne was convinced she had to pay her dues.
 

“I don’t need your expert skills this time, but thank you. He’s got my number, so…we’ll see.”

“You can’t just wait around for a guy to call,” she said.
 

“I’m not waiting. I’ve got all that”—I gestured to the ugly tarp that hid the mess behind it—“to deal with, so I’m actually quite busy at the moment.”

The three of them gave each other “the look.” You know, the one that said,
We’ve got to help our poor little friend get laid so she doesn’t end up gorging on the ice cream and boozy shakes she makes and be relegated to spinsterhood.

“Guys,” I said, placing my hands on the counter as I stood in front of them. “I’m not on my way to spinsterhood. I just have priorities.”

“I’m sure you could squeeze Cameron Mathis in,” Quinn said with a wink. “Get it? Squeeze him in…”

“More like blow off the dust, grab a key, unlock that shit, and pray there are no bats,” Paige agreed.
 

Oh for fuck’s sake.
“All right, no more booze for either of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was done anyway. I’ve gotta jet.” Quinn stood up and grabbed her leather jacket, the one she wore no matter the weather, and slapped down a fifty-dollar bill. “Later, bitches.”

Shayne’s mouth fell open. “Damn, Quinn. Off to work the corner of Hollywood and Las Palmas?”

“I’m not taking that,” I called after Quinn, but she was out the door before it reached her. “One of these days, we’re gonna figure out what the hell it is she does.”

“And where she gets all that bloody money to blow,” Shayne said.

“I’m telling you. Russian spy. All that glossy black hair and badass attitude,” Paige said between sips of her shake.
 

I shrugged. “Nah. Maybe she has a crazy inheritance.”

Shayne shook her head. “It should be weird that we don’t know how she spends her days or what she does for a living, but—”

“That’s Quinn,” we all chorused before bursting into laughter.
 

The store phone rang then, and I answered it with a smile. “Licked Ice Creamery & Booziery.”

“May I speak with Ryleigh, please?” The deep voice that filtered through the phone had my body stopping and starting, like when you’re on a roller coaster and you get to the top of that first peak and it stops before barreling down at lightening speed and sending your stomach to your feet.

Yeah. Like that.

But the watchful eyes of my friends kept me from turning into the puddle of goo I knew I would’ve been had they not been there. I cleared my throat and stood up straighter. “Cameron Mathis. Stalking is illegal in all fifty states.”

When Paige and Shayne’s eyes widened, I winked at them.
 

A low chuckle sounded across the line. “Well, you don’t answer your cell, and I remembered you work at Licked, so—”

“I own it,” I said with my chin up.

“I’m sorry?”

“Licked is my store. I own it, I don’t just work here.” I didn’t mean to sound defensive, but call it a pride thing; I wanted him to know I was a successful businesswoman. That I worked for myself.

“Oh…wow, okay,” he said. “Maybe I could come check it out?”

“You could…” A cheesy grin spread across my face, and I turned around before the girls could see it. “Maybe you could stop by this week.”

“How’s Wednesday?”

“Hmm. I could make that happen.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, Cameron.”

I hung up the phone and circled back to my friends.
 

“Twisting him around your damn finger,” Paige said. “High five to that.”

As I slapped her hand, my grin grew wider. “I wouldn’t go that far, but—”
 

The expectant looks on their faces had me reconsidering.
 

“Okay, yeah I am,” I said, picking up my own Slap My Ass and Call Me Sally boozy shake. “Cheers and sayonara, spinsterhood.”

WEDNESDAY CAME AROUND, and I’m not ashamed to admit it took me two hours to pick out what I was going to wear that day. Two dozen brightly patterned swing and pencil dresses were scattered across my plush white comforter, making for a dizzying array of choices.
 

My chestnut hair was already up in my signature updo, and my makeup was heavy on the volumizing mascara and pink gloss. Now all I needed was the perfect dress. Or maybe I should choose my shoes first?
 

I switched on the light to the walk-in closet and pursed my lips as I ran my fingers across the choices. They stopped on a wine-colored pair of peep-toe heels, and I gingerly lifted them from the shelf and carried them to the bed.

Oooh.
They’d go perfectly with the rockabilly dress I’d bought last week. I threw on the ensemble and checked myself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door.
 

Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all.
A pair of funky earrings, and I was ready to go.
 

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s true. I’ve got pretty eclectic taste. Always have, probably always will. I was wearing vintage dresses even back in high school, which is most likely the reason for my oddball status. But it’s amazing how you learn to embrace your awkward as you get older.