Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1) (6 page)

I opened my mouth to apologize for being a complete asshole
, but Jacqueline beat me to the punch, hooting, “Told!”

“
And you can shove it too, Jacqueline. I’ll tell it ’cause I need to get it off my chest, but don’t think I can’t see right through you. You want the lowdown on the new girl, to see if I stand up to inspection with all y’all veterans. I swear. Goddamn writers, sometimes it’s like a hazing ritual.”

Listening to Leelee put the beat-down on
Jacqueline was some seriously hot shit.

An approving smile curved
Jacqueline’s glossy painted lips. “I’m happy to see you show some balls, Leelee.”

“
Oh, I got balls, balls of goddamn steel.”

So do I after that display of utter fucking brass.

“That’s what I thought, girl.”

Leelee sat back and glanced at me.
“It ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“
Mm hmm
, the real stories never are. And that’s why we keep at the romance writing.” Jacqueline gave a little gospel.

I wasn
’t all that fond of chick-talk. The most I came close to it was when I caught the boys snorting in the staff room over that
Real Housewives
train wreck or when they showed up at Ma’s with their women for the monthly Stone’s potluck. But I was all for learning more about Leelee, so I put my listening ears on. Just like Ma always told me to do when she used to give me the what-for.

“
I was real serious about this guy, Patrick Waddell.”

I instantly hated the
schmuck because she said
this guy
and
serious
in the same sentence.

“
I thought he was just the most wonderful man there ever was. Successful, smart, sweet as could be. Sweet on me, at least I thought he was.” She twirled one long curl around her finger then snapped up in her seat, pressing her hands together in her lap. “Good lookin’, a real sharp dresser. A total scammer, it turned out.”

“
Oh Lord,” Jacqueline breathed out.

“
You see where this is going?” Leelee’s head dipped toward the other woman, who nodded in response.

Color me goddamn
stupid because I have no clue at all
.

“
We were engaged, the wedding date was set. One Saturday we were picking out china at one of those precious little boutiques. And Patrick just started layin’ into me, right there in the middle of the store. He didn’t like the colors, didn’t approve of the patterns I’d pre-chosen, wanted to get right back into the car and go home. It was just china! It turned out it wasn’t the patterns he was worried about at all. The man helping us out, he stepped off a bit while Patrick blew up in my face. But I saw him watchin’ us, his lips pursed like he was suckin’ on a sour lemon.”

Jacqueline
reached across the table to lay her hand on Leelee’s shoulder. “Oh, girl, he wasn’t, was he?”

“
Yeah, yeah, he was.” Leelee’s head bent low as she sighed.

I was crawling out of my skin.
He wasn’t, he was what?
The Y chromosome plus a boatload of testosterone meant I missed out on a whole lot of feminine intuition, apparently.

Guarded eyes flew to mine and away.
“Patrick said ‘I can’t do china, I can’t do a wedding with you, I can’t do you anymore!’ He shouted at me, but he looked at the other man, the very gorgeous man who’d messed up our order and dropped a few plates and muttered some cutting comments all the while he’d attended to us. And I was just naïve enough to ask Patrick what he was talkin’ about.”

“
The kiss of death,” Jacqueline said.

Leelee mumbled,
“The kiss of death.”

The kiss of huh?

“My fiancé left me for the clerk while we shopped wedding china in his store. He came out by accident, practically on the eve of our wedding, because he’d been two-timing me with that man!”

Wait, what?

“
Now that right there is a second chance love story.” Jacqueline tapped those fucking outrageous fingernails again.

“
Oh, trust me, there’s no second chance for Patrick or any man. The wedding invitations were followed by regrets and a cancellation notice.” She flicked her fingers at the éclair in front of her. “My life is worse than a romance novel.”

“
That definitely counts for a black moment, baby-doll.” Jacqueline clucked her tongue. She stared at me over Leelee’s bowed head as if I had the feel-better answers to something I’d barely understood.

I held my hands up in an I-got-nothin
’ move.

“’
Course, as the fates would have it, this all went down last fall when every other huge thing was happening for me. My writing took off and my world fell apart at the same time.”

Jacqueline
silently urged me to do something again, her hands spinning furiously in the air.

“
I turned him gay,” came Leelee’s suddenly tiny voice. That cut me harder than any knife to the heart . . . or the other woman’s nails.

“
Bullshit, Leelee. You can’t turn a straight guy gay, right, Stone?” Jacqueline glared at me for the third time.

Not unless it
’s for the purposes of pulling the wool over y’all’s eyes.
“’Course not, that’s fucking ridiculous.” I hooked my foot around the leg of Leelee’s chair and pulled her closer. Cupping her face, I did something immensely unadvisable and placed a light kiss on her cheek. Then the other one. Where I lingered much longer than I had any right to do.

From beneath long eyelashes,
dewy eyes sought mine. Leelee’s lips quivered.
Please don’t cry.
I decided right then if I ever got the chance to meet Patrick the dick Waddell I was gonna beat his face all to bloody motherfucking hell.

Leelee
pulled herself together and pulled away. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or regretful. Most of all I wanted her back in my arms.

“
You must really hate people like me and Nicky,” I blurted.

Jacqueline
snickered, “Oh, snap.”

“
No!” Leelee patted my thigh, way up high.
Danger zone, danger zone.
My legs twitched, my cock throbbed, and I fought down the animal inside. “I feel safe with you, Stone.”

Bad move, babe.
The side of me that wanted to protect her from pain warred with the part that wanted to prowl all over her body. Safe was the very last thing she should feel around me.

Jacqueline
’s chair screeching back hauled me away from the edge of proving just how dirty and dangerous I could be for Leelee.

Jacqueline
stood to shout through megaphone hands, “It’s that famous writer, Nicky Love!”

Several heads from the surrounding tables swiveled to watch his approach
. Next to him, Janice wasn’t to be outdone. She pointed and waved. “I don’t believe it! The most prestigious male-male author, Jacqueline!”

“
What’re they doing?” I mumbled to Leelee.

“
No idea.”

Having caused a stir,
Jacqueline returned to her seat with a pleased hum. “Oh, we just like to get a little attention.”

“
Or annoy people?” I asked.

“
That too.” She grinned.

I stood as Janice, Missy Beat-me
, and Nicky approached. Leaning in to nuzzle his neck, I wrinkled my nose where no one could see. “Interesting way to make an entrance.”

“
You like that?”

“
I had no idea you were such a showman, might have to get you around the gara—I mean around the dealership more often, babe.” I slid my fingers through his hair, working the enamored lover angle to the max.

He spoke just loud enough
for those around us to hear. “I’m pretty sure you know exactly how much of a showman I am from bein’ in my bed every night, lover.” Dressed in pinstriped tuxedo pants, a ragged maroon T-shirt and black suspenders, he lowered his voice. “From skirt-chasin’ rogue to queer and en vogue overnight, Josh? I’m impressed.”

“
Just makin’ sure we look good and spending some time with the ladies.”

“
It’s that last part I’m worried about,” he hissed.

Me too.
I was enjoying the ladies’ company—one in particular—a little too much.

Janice
shoved Nicky out of the way. I did a double-take. Gone was the hippy peasant look. She was dressed in some kind of kinky Old West saloon-madam get-up complete with a tight corset she almost busted out of. I guessed Nicky wasn’t the only one who dressed the part. She reached up to grab my face for a smack on the lips.

“
What was that for?”

“
I’m a hugger.” She shrugged.

“
That was more than hugging.”

“
You can take it.” Janice winked from behind a pair of old-fashioned goggles instead of last night’s John Lennon glasses. A large pendant of what looked like clock gears rested on her bosom.

“
So, is this the Steampunk thing?” I asked.

“
You got it, hot stuff.” She reached around for a quick squeeze of my ass.

“
Hands off the merchandise, wench, he’s mine.” Nicky towed me toward to the table.

T
hey all crowded around, mouths gunning a mile a minute about the big book fair on Saturday, the morning’s
epic
triumphs and
fail
moments. Then there were things called
flail
moments. I was lost again, especially when Missy did a lot of flapping of her arms at me. Maybe she was trying to be a human flogger?

“
How about you, hon?” Janice waved her hand in front of Leelee’s face, a burnished antique timepiece replacing her bracelets.

“
Oh, I’m just takin’ in the scenery.” And I swore her gaze slid to me before skipping away.

I decided to take in the scenery too, going so far as to angle my chair more toward Nicky and less in Leelee
’s direction. I worked my arm around his shoulders, ignoring the chorus of sighs from around the table. While they blazed on about the afternoon’s agenda, I lingered on a woman across the room who danced aimlessly, with no music and no partners. 

“
What’s her deal?”

Nicky turned to check her out.
“Dances to the beat of a different drum?”

I watched the girl awhile longer—her tiny body and face almost completely
hidden by acres of flowy shit and incredibly long blond hair. If the kid were here he’d probably ask for her autograph, mistaking her for one of Disney’s cardboard cutout creations. “She reminds me of that chick.”

“
Which chick.” He squinted at the nearly fairy princess.

I made sure no one else could hear me.
“Angel or Erin or . . . fuck, I can’t remember. The one who used to show up at Stone’s to give me lunchtime blowjobs.”

Snapping his fingers, Nicky said,
“Angelica.”

“
Yeah, Angelica.” Angelica with the long, long legs and the long blond hair. She was just about addicted to my dick. That’d been a good week.

“
She was crazy.”

“
A nympho, maybe. Gave some crazy good head though.”

His voice
dropped even lower. “You really are a slut.”

“
Guys can’t be sluts, can they? I think that makes me a stud.” I pulled him right up to me and bit his earlobe. A love bite, not a sharp punishing pinch of my teeth at all.

“
Double standards.” He accused.

“
Double penetration.”

“
Hopeless case.”

“
Yeah.” I raised my voice. “Hopeless for you, babe.”

More sighs from the chickens and a glare-grin combo from Nicky.

“You should join FetLife.” Missy dragged Nicky back into the conversation.

“
What the hell is FetLife?” I settled my forearms onto the table.

Nicky pointed to a lady dressed all in leather as black as the hair arranged in
a wild formation on her head. “A social board for The Lifestyle.”

He said
“the lifestyle” like it was in all-important caps . . . and I stared at leather-lady. “Elvira has a lifestyle?”

Cuffing me with a
discreet
smack to the back of the head, he explained, “BDSM, remember?”

“
Maybe that should’ve been in the note cards, never mind all the other shit,” I grumbled quietly. Then I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you don’t write BDSM.”