Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1) (6 page)

“
YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT
, sugar plum,” Tomas greeted me cheerfully as I pushed through the front door of Fire & Ice. No one should ever be that cheerful in the mornings,
especially
after a night of tequila.

“I hate you,” I grunted past the dull, throbbing pain in my head. “How the hell are you not hung over?”

The smug little grin he gave me had my palm itching to slap his perfectly-groomed face. “Maybe because I wasn’t the one downing shots like they were liquid candy. Me and Navie stopped after three.”

“Then why the hell did you let me keep going?!” I cried in exasperation.

“Oh, honey child,” he pouted condescendingly.

“What?” I asked in bewilderment. A large chunk of last night was missing from my memory, but I had a dreaded feeling in my gut that whatever had happened wasn’t good.

“We tried to stop you, but from the moment that sinful officer of the law uttered the words, ‘
I dare you
,’ it was on.”

“Damn it!” I shouted, wincing as pain sliced through my head. “That bastard!” Any niggling guilt I felt for tasing Griffin earlier that morning completely disappeared. If I had my way, I’d get him again. The son of a bitch had used my own weakness against me. He
knew
I was physically incapable of backing down from a challenge. More than half the trouble I’d ever gotten into was a result of a dare gone wrong, for Christ’s sake. And he’d taken complete advantage of the situation.

“I gotta ask,” Tomas said, pulling me from my sinister plans of retribution. “What is
with
you two? I’m sensing a juicy story,” he sing-songed.

“Well, you’re sensing wrong,” I lied, because no way in hell was I
ever
admitting to what had happened between me and Griffin in the past. That night, along with my decade long crush, were staying buried in the deepest recesses of my mind where not even hypnotherapy could get to it. It was stored right under my irrational childhood fear of clowns and the memory of that time I’d walked in on Mom and Dad, mid-coital. I was still convinced I was partially blind from that traumatizing experience.

“Mmmhmm,” he eyed me skeptically. “I know you’re lying to me, Pepper O’Malley. I can sniff a lie out from a mile away.”

“That’s what you said last week about Channing Tatum. And about knockoff designer handbags the week before that.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I know you’re hiding something, and I’m gonna find out what.”

He gave me an exaggerated snap, causing me to roll my eyes. “Okay, Tomas. You’re a regular blood hound. Now do your job and handle the front of the store. I’ll be in the back for a few hours. Holler if you need anything.”

“You got it, boss lady. Go get your creativity on. I got this up here.”

That was another thing I loved about Tomas. He might have given me shit on a semi-regular basis, but he was the best employee I’d had since opening Fire & Ice. I couldn’t have managed the store without him. When I was out sick, or overwhelmed, or just needed a few hours of complete silence, I knew I could count on him to run my boutique like a well-oiled machine.

Making my way down the long hall in the back, past the break room and office, I used my key to open the door to my own personal sanctuary. My sewing room was where I put my imagination to use and created pieces for just myself. Some I wore, some hung in the back of my cramped closet, much to Tomas’s indignation. I never had any intentions of putting my designs in the front of the boutique. They weren’t for sale.

Some people worked out to relieve stress, some ate, others meditated or went to therapy. I had my sewing room. Creating new pieces and putting needle to thread was cathartic to me. I didn’t need anything else as long as I was able to sew. And for the first time in my life, I was working on something for someone else.

Closing the door, I walked over to the mannequin that held my latest creation—and my best to date, if I did say so myself. I couldn’t wait to finish. It was by far, the best thing I’d ever made. I twisted my hair up into a knot at the crown of my head and got to work, losing myself in the motions as the minutes began to tick by. But instead of having my mind on the dress in front of me, my thoughts kept drifting to somewhere else. Spurred on by Griffin’s strange behavior at Rowan and Navie’s the night before, I couldn’t help but think about the past, a place I’d have been happy to avoid.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem I was going to get my way.

Past

DEX WAS HOME!

It wasn’t something I’d ever admit out loud, but I missed my big brother like crazy when he was away at college. Since starting at NYU a few years ago, he hardly ever came home. I missed having someone to torment on a regular basis. We’d always been close, so I felt the loss of him deeply.

Skipping down the stairs, I rushed the front door just as he pushed it open against a frigid gust of wind. “Sis!” he called as he stepped into the doorway.

“Bub!” I threw myself off the last step, into Dex’s strong arms.

“Missed you a little bit, bean pole.”

“Missed you a little bit, too, loser” I mumbled into his chest.

Just as I pulled from our embrace, the front door was shoved back once again. I heard a deep, gritty voice call out, “Thanks for the help with our bag, douche.”

The man who’d just walked through the door was something out of the romance novels I’d stolen off my mom’s bookshelf. I was mesmerized. I was pretty sure it was love at first sight. Not that I had much experience with it, but I’d heard Jenny Muller talking about how she loved her boyfriend, Tommy, during second period last week, and it felt just like this. So it had to be love, right? I was so hypnotized that I hardly even noticed the second guy walking in behind my future husband.

“Guys, meet my little sis, Pepper. Pep, these are my friends, Griffin and Rowan.”

I couldn’t speak, for fear of swallowing my tongue.
Griffin
. God, even his
name
was something out of my mom’s romance books! I had to be dreaming. No man was that handsome in real life.

“Nice to meet you,” the guy Dex had introduced as Rowan spoke, but I only had eyes for the walking, talking fantasy in front of me.

“H-hi,” I stuttered, feeling my cheeks heat uncomfortably the longer I stared.

He gave me a super cool chin lift and said, “What’s up, Red?”

What’s up, Red
? That was it. That was the extent of our conversation, because just as quickly as he’d regarded me, he dismissed me and looked back at my brother. “So where are we crashing?”

“Up the stairs. Second door on the left.”

Without so much as a backward glance, Griffin and Rowan headed up the stairs. It felt like a large, gaping hole had opened up in my chest the moment I lost sight of him. He hadn’t even realized I existed. But what was I supposed to expect? He was a grown-up, he was gorgeous, and I was all knobby knees and pointy elbows. I was sure he went for pretty girls with long legs, blonde hair, and big boobs. I didn’t have any of that. My chest looked like I’d been stung by bees, I couldn’t control my frizzy red hair, and I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup yet because my mom was
totally
lame.

Spinning around, I shot Dex and evil glare before reaching up and twisting his nipple. “Ah!” He cried out as he stumbled out of my reach. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing friends?” I hissed, waiving my hands in front of my sweat pants and ratty t-shirt. “I look like a total dork.”

With a laugh, Dex reached up and ruffled my hair in that playful way that always annoyed the crap out of me. “Hate to break it to ya, kiddo, but you
are
a dork.”

“Am not!” I argued.

Dex leaned down and grabbed his duffle bag, then stood straight and ruffled my hair,
again
. “Stop doing that,” I grumbled, slapping at his hands. “You’re gonna make my hair look stupid in front of your friends!”

“Too late,” he teased, only that joke hit me square in the chest, leaving behind a sharp stinging pain that made my eyes water.

“You’re such a jerk,” I muttered as I stomped passed him.

“Aw, come on, sis. I was just teasing.”

But the damage was already done. I
was
a pre-teen after all, and a girl to boot. If you asked my dad, only three mood swings in a twenty-four hour period made for a good day.

“I don’t care! It wasn’t funny!” And with that, I stormed out of the front hall and into the kitchen, heading for the pantry like my life depended on it. It wasn’t until I was back in my bedroom, unwrapping the oatmeal crème pie in my hand that my anger and embarrassment began to lessen.

I was too humiliated from my first meeting with Griffin to try and start up a conversation for the rest of Thanksgiving break, but later that week, as Dex and his friends backed out of my parents’ driveway, I swore to myself that the next time I laid eyes on Griffin Locklaine, I was going to
make
him notice me.

Present

BY THE TIME I
walked out of my sewing room a few hours later, my headache was gone and my mood had improved substantially. I still couldn’t figure out what kind of game Griffin was playing, but my determination to not be any part of it gave me a sense of security.

He could play all the stupid, childish games he wanted. That didn’t mean I had to stoop to his level. I was a grown-up for Christ’s sake. I was mature, damn it.

“Well look at you,” Tomas cooed as I came out into the front of the shop. “You’re looking a lot less
The Walking Dead
-ish.”

I cut him a side-eyed look. “Remind me, why I keep you around again?” I asked sarcastically.

He tapped his chin in mock-thought. “Hmm. It could be because of my impeccable fashion sense… or, no, what about my stunning good looks? Oh! I know, it’s because of my glowing personality…”

God only knew how long he could have kept going. Fortunately, the bell over the front door chimed, alerting us to the new customer that had just walked through. A tall, well-dressed man wandered in, his eyes honed in to the front of his tailored, button-down shirt where it looked like an entire cup of coffee had been spilled.

“Welcome to Fire & Ice. Can I help you find something?”

The man’s head came up, his smiling brown eyes looking right at me before scanning through the boutique. “Uh… I’m starting to think you can’t,” he answered lightly. “Unless you happen to have any men’s dress shirts in the back you’re keeping hidden?”

I smiled sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he looked around the shop containing only women’s clothes. “I was afraid of that.” He cut his gaze back to the coffee stain before looking at me and lifting his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I was on my way to court when a woman wielding a huge Starbucks cup decided she couldn’t walk and talk on her cell phone at the same time. My shirt was the unfortunate casualty in that run-in.”

Tomas cleared his throat annoyingly loud. Drawing everyone’s attention. “Sorry boss lady, but did you forget the few men’s dress shirts we keep stocked in the
back room
?”