Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1) (12 page)

“I wonder what I could pair this with for a shake…I could call it the Red Devil.” I looked pointedly at him.

His hand went over his heart. “I’d be honored.”

I shook my head and took another sip before pointing at the lighting on the page. “Could we do something like this but have it shine through the bar? So you can see the lights underneath?”

Hunter’s brow went up. “You mean a clear bar?”

“Well…yeah. Or maybe not clear, more, um…foggy? Is that the word?”

“Frosted.”

“Yeah, frosted.”
 

Hunter turned the book to face him and flipped to the next page. “Like this?”

“I’ll be damned. Exactly like that. Is that feasible?”
 

Hunter’s eyes flicked up to mine. “Anything you want.”

His gaze had my stomach flipping, and I couldn’t force any words out of my mouth. Not even a wise-ass comeback. All I could do was pry my eyes away from his.
 

“Let’s nail down a few that you like, and when we see Mitch, he’ll let you know what’s doable in the time frame and in your budget,” he said. “Sound good?”

I nodded.

“We’re still on for Monday morning, right? I’ll pick you up at ten.”

That had my voice coming back. “There’s no need to do that. I can drive myself.”
 

“It’s three hours away. It’s stupid to take two cars.”

Okay, that
was
a little ridiculous. I tried to think of another reason not to be alone in the car with him for a long period of time.

“I’ve got a truck, and we might be coming back with a few pieces, so it makes sense for me to drive. Any other arguments?”

I sighed.

“Good.”

“Is there anything else we need to go over?” I asked. There was no way I was coming back for a return trip. Better knock it all out at once.
 

“I guess not.” He gestured to the books. “Feel free to take whatever you want and look over them.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, placing the two I’d already gone through in a separate pile so I could go through the others. “I’ll give them back to you on—shit.”

My hand knocked into my glass and it tumbled over, the wine splattering onto my lap. Against my white dress, the red liquid resembled something out of a murder scene.
 

“Don’t move.” Hunter leaped up and grabbed a roll of paper towels and a plastic bag before kneeling in front of me. My hands were holding the edges of my dress up so the contents wouldn’t get all over the floor. He began to wipe at the mess in my lap, discarding the towels into the bag as they each soaked up the wine.
 

“I’m so sorry. That’s a huge reason not to drink red wine. Or to wear white, I suppose,” I said. Yeah, white anything wasn’t the smartest idea, and this dress would be going in the trash tonight for sure.
 

“Nah, it all comes off,” he said, his hands pressing down on my thighs, and it was then that it occurred to me where he was touching me. He ripped off another paper towel and pressed down where my hip met my thigh. And again and again until the towel soaked and he had to get another. I just sat there, letting him do it, studying the lines of his face as he cleaned me off.
 

His skin was so tan compared to mine, and I wondered if it was his natural tone or from hours spent at the beach. His hair fell onto his forehead, and I ached to push it back and thread my fingers through the thick strands. This time, he pressed down a few inches to the left, right in the center where my—

I pushed his hands away, feeling breathless. He looked up in confusion, and I swallowed. “I can do it,” I whispered.

He looked down at where he’d been touching me, and it seemed to dawn on him then where his hands had been. Without a word, he handed me the roll of paper towels and got up off the floor. Then he wiped away the drops from the table and took my empty glass to the kitchen.

Letting out a shaky breath, I finished cleaning my dress as best I could, and then handed him the bag to throw away.
 

My knees wobbled as I got to my feet, and I was thankful his back was turned. The door to Cameron’s room was cracked, and I could see the impeccably made bed, the spotless floors and dressers. He seemed to be as put together as he looked.
Unlike me,
I thought as I looked down at my ruined dress.
 

Here I was, in his apartment, having drinks and trying not to ogle his best friend and roommate.
What the hell is wrong with me?

A burst of longing ripped through my chest. I wished he were there. He suddenly felt like a safety blanket, something familiar and steady. Maybe I should call him… Glancing at the wall clock, I added fifteen hours. It would be midafternoon there now. Yes, good plan. Now I just needed to get the hell out of here before the tension suffocated me.

“I’ll carry them,” Hunter said when I reached for the design books. I didn’t bother putting up a complaint, seeing as my arms still felt like Jell-O. The effect he had on me was lingering, and I didn’t like that a damn bit.
 

He seemed to sense my mood and stayed quiet as he followed me to my car. After putting the books on the floor of the backseat, he rested his hand on the door. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed, and then said, “Ryleigh, I—”

“I need to get going,” I interrupted. “Thank you for the books. I’ll keep them somewhere safe.” I quickly slid into the driver’s seat before he could say any more. Though I wouldn’t meet his eyes, I knew he was staring at me.
 

After a long moment, he let out a heavy breath and shut the back door. “Drive safe.”

Nodding, I put the car in gear and didn’t bother looking his way before flying down the street.
 

What was Hunter playing at? He knew I was interested in Cameron, yet everything in me was screaming warnings that the guy was looking to make his move. Unless I was reading the signs wrong, and I didn’t think I was.
 

Hunter wasn’t giving up until, true to his name, he’d successfully hunted and captured his prey.
 

His prey being…me.

MY STOMACH HAD been in knots for over twenty-four hours. Hunter would be picking me up any minute, and I was struggling not to bite off every one of my nails while I waited. After leaving his house Saturday night, I’d been restless, half tempted to call off the trip and invest in plastic chairs and cups.
 

Maybe I was reading too much into this. He was a flirty guy, yeah, but he hadn’t actually
tried
anything with me. I bet he did that with all the girls. A few hours in the car would be no big deal. I’d even brought a pair of headphones and stashed them in my purse in case of an emergency—like listening to country music.

Hunter’s black truck pulled into a space in front of the shop, and he jumped out, dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt. He looked freshly showered…and utterly delicious.
 

He opened the passenger’s-side door for me and grinned. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

I tried for a smile. “Good morning.”

“You know, for someone who’s about to go shopping, I thought you’d be more excited.”

Hoping he wouldn’t see right through me, I slid onto the seat and said, “Maybe we can stop for some caffeine?”

“I thought you might say that,” Hunter said when he’d gotten in the truck. He pulled a coffee cup out of the center console and handed it to me before sipping out of his own.
 

“Pickup service
and
coffee. I could get used to that.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. I didn’t mean I could get used to
him
picking me up and getting me coffee every day, because that would imply something I was
not
thinking about. I had just meant in general. Of course.

Luckily, he didn’t comment, just gave me a half-smile and pulled out onto the road.
 

I took a sip, and wouldn’t you know it—the coffee was delicious, just like the man who’d made it. But he’d added some kind of sweetener I couldn’t pinpoint.
 

“What did you put in this?” I asked.

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Why? Some kind of secret recipe?”

“Special recipe, yes.”

“Like…?”
 

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “You can call it Hunter’s sweet cream—ow.” Hunter rubbed his arm where I’d punched him. “What? You asked.”

“Is it possible for you to stay PG during this trip?”

“I don’t know, is it possible you could keep your hands to yourself, Tyson?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe.”

I sighed and drank my coffee in silence as he pulled onto the freeway. He looked like a car model with his hand lying on top of the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift, his shaggy brown hair whipping across his forehead from the wind that was blowing in through the cracked windows. My hair was up and not going anywhere, so I didn’t mind the fresh air. I also didn’t mind that he hadn’t bothered to turn the radio on either, in case his preference really
was
country music.

The twisted ball of trepidation in my stomach eased the farther we drove away from L.A.
 

See? This wasn’t so bad. I could be in a car with him and be platonic. It wasn’t like I was visualizing what he looked like naked. Wait…dammit, why did I just think of that?
 

Don’t visualize him naked, don’t visualize him naked. Subject change…

“Oh, by the way,” I said, “I brought a couple of the books you gave me to look through so I could show Mitch. Remind me to give you the rest when we get back.”
Yes, good. Focus on work stuff.

“Find anything you like?”

“Actually, it was hard to find anything not to be totally obsessed with. I might need help narrowing it down.”

“That’s what today is for.”

I picked at the sleeve of the coffee cup. “I don’t remember if I said thank you for this. And if I did, thank you again. I thought I had all my ducks in a row a long time ago.”

“Everything happens for a reason, right?”

“I could’ve done without the shady builder stress, but I suppose you’re right.”

“A better way to look at it would be to say you completely lucked out by snagging me.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “So modest.”

“Say it. ‘Hunter, I’m so lucky you walked through my door.’”

“I am
not
saying that.”

“You better say it. Don’t make me turn this truck around. Your guests will be drinking those boozy shakes of yours while sitting Indian style on the cold, hard floor.”
 

“I already said thank you.”

“Ryleigh…” he said with a growl.
 

Wow… My name sounded pretty hot like that—

Wait, no, no, no. Don’t even go there.

“Fine. I’m the luckiest person in the whole world that Hunter Morgan strolled into my little shop and begged to take over from shitty contractors.”

“You forgot to say how hot you think that Hunter Morgan is.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered.

His grin grew wider. “Thank you.”

“So please tell me how you got to be the best construction worker ever in the world.”

“Second best. My old man’s the first. Has his own business just outside of Chicago and had me and my brothers building cabinets when we were eight.”

I twisted in my seat to face him. “Wait, you’re from Chicago?”

“Born and raised.”

“You don’t sound like it. Well, maybe you have a little bit of an accent, now that you mention it.”

“Means I’ve been here too long.”

“My friend Shayne is from Australia and still sounds like it.”

“I bet her friends back in Oz would beg to differ.”

“True. So what brought you to L.A. in the first place?”

A sad smile twisted his lips. “Followed a girl.”

“Aw, you little sap. What happened? Did she break your heart?”

“How do you know I didn’t do the heartbreaking?”

“Because you wouldn’t still be here. I bet you stayed, licking your wounds and trying to win her back. And then before you knew it, you had life and friends here and going back to Chicago meant starting over.”

He looked over at me before focusing back on the road. “Seems like you’ve got me figured out.”

“Am I close?”

“You’re right about one thing,” he said. “I did stay here.”

“That’s it?”

“Just about.”

“You’re not good at this whole getting to know you, making conversation thing.”

“What else did you want to know?”

What
else
… I guessed that was his way of shutting down
that
topic. I was curious about how he’d met Cameron, why they lived together when it was obvious they both did well in their respective businesses, but I didn’t feel right bringing Cameron up. Silly, since there was nothing going on between Hunter and me, but still.
 

“You said brothers. How many do you have?” I asked.

“Three. And a sister.”

“Damn. Midwesterners like to breed, huh?”

Hunter choked on his coffee, and when he looked my way, I gave him a mischievous grin.