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“She’s been through this with Mayhem,” Judge said, his arm around my shoulder shifting as he played with my hair. “Swedes doesn’t like anyone else’s cooking, but he almost came to blows with Hollywood when he found out he ate all the cookies Piper made.”
“I make a good cookie,” she said matter-of-factly as she set a timer. “But my cupcakes are the best.” Her eyes darted to the boxes and then back to me. “I thought I packed enough, but maybe you should grab one from the front case and eat it now, just to be safe.”
Even though my tongue and stomach would hate me, I shook my head. “I don’t want to take one and have your line riot.”
“The boys are always helping themselves, so most of my customers are used to it.” She grabbed a cooling rack and started transferring the cookies. “Since I know Judge doesn’t wanna chill over here, and I’m betting you probably don’t wanna listen to them talk about parts and bikes and customizations ‘til it sounds like they’re making up words, why don’t you stay here and eat a cupcake—or four—while he goes back over there?”
Since these were Judge’s people, I started to look back to see his thoughts. Before I could, he turned me to face him. Cupping my cheek, his long fingers speared into my hair, the tips digging in as he tilted my face up. “You good with that?”
I glanced at where Piper was starting a pot of coffee in a ridiculously fancy looking brewer, her head bopping to the song playing softly. The coffee and promise of cupcakes were reason enough to stay over here, but I was also pretty sure I liked Piper and hanging out there sounded fun.
Plus, coffee and cupcakes.
“I’m good,” I told him honestly. “I’d rather smell vanilla than grease.”
He dipped down, pressing his lips to mine so they brushed when he whispered, “Rather be smellin’ you.”
“Just think of how much better that’ll be after I’ve eaten a cupcake,” I whispered back.
“Not your mouth I’m talking about.”
I swayed closer but stopped myself before I did something that’d violate health laws and regular ones.
Flashing me a smirk, Judge let me go and took a few steps backward. “I won’t be long.”
“Good.” I paused for a moment to give him a smile I hoped was even half as wicked as his. “Because we’ve got plans.”
He gave me a scorching yet playful look that I tried my hardest to commit to memory. “Fuckin’ killin’ me.”
Turning, he was almost to the door when Piper called, “Tell my husband there’s coffee.”
Husband? I wonder which one is…
Jake.
Duh.
I could’ve smacked my head for not putting two and two together. The business combo totally made sense, as did the beautiful couple.
When she handed me a mug while holding her own in her other hand, I got a view of the huge rock on her finger. I hadn’t noticed it before because she’d been wearing oven mitts.
“Thanks.” Taking the coffee, I followed Piper out to the storefront that’d died down a little.
She pointed past the counter. “Grab a stool and bring it back here.”
“I can help with something,” I offered.
“I only abuse the kindness of my longtime friends,” she said with a laugh. “Come see me next month, and I’ll put you to work.”
She was joking, but I found myself genuinely hoping there was some truth to it.
There was no way I’d be able to carry a stool without hitting someone, so I leaned on the rear counter, staying out of the way while still chatting. A few minutes passed when the door—that I’d thankfully been smart enough to not stand in front of—swung open. I looked over to see if it was Judge or a brother.
Instead, a tall, tattooed man in a white beater tank and low-slung jeans came in. I’d never thought much about dreads, but his pulled back locks were Momoa-nly cool.
Is there something in the water here?
With an expression of single-minded intensity, he prowled past, not stopping until he’d reached Harlow. Gripping her hips, he turned her before cupping her pale cheeks in his inked hands and kissing her in a way that, although not obscene, definitely pushed the health code.
