Chapter 11
I parkedin front of Pie in the Sky and cut the engine. With a deep breath, I looked in my rearview mirror, checked my appearance one final time, and then climbed out of the car. Under-eye concealer only did so much when your sleep was erratic, and you’d had a slumber party with your best friend.
The bakery was warm and inviting. A woman with a long, dark braid wearing a pair of glasses stood behind the counter. She handed a man his change and a cup of to-go coffee.
Another customer stepped up to order.
I looked around the bakery for Bones. He was sitting at a corner table, his back facing the wall, his blue eyes locked on me.
His chin lowered ever so slightly, and I knew he was checking me out in my tight black jeans, ankle boots, and designer black and white chenille sweater.
As the customer waited for his drink, it was my turn to step up to order.
“You must be Hayden,” the woman at the counter said.
I was momentarily taken aback, and then I nodded. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
The woman shook her head. “Nope. But Bones said when a well-dressed, gorgeous woman with your physical attributes ordered I was supposed to put it on his tab. I’m obsessed with your boots, by the way.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
“My name is Jazz.”
“Jazz,” I repeated in confusion and then understanding dawned. “You’re best friends with Brielle.”
“You know Brielle?”
“I met her at Three Kings a few days ago. Roman tattooed my best friend.”
“It’s a small world after all,” Jazz quipped.
“It is.”
“So, you and Bones?” Jazz pressed.
“Oh gee, can I get a cup of your strawberry hibiscus tea and a plain croissant?”
“Plain? Are you sure you don’t want chocolate? It’s one of our best sellers,” Jazz said.
“No thanks. The plain one is fine.”
“The tea needs a few minutes to steep. I’ll bring it over to you.”
“Thanks.”
I opened my wallet and pulled out a few bills and stuck them in the tip jar before heading to Bones.
He folded his legs back and rose slowly. “Duchess,” he greeted, placing a hand on my hip and leaning in to kiss my cheek. His mouth was warm and his breath smelled faintly of coffee mixed heavily with cream.
I suddenly wished his mouth would move a few inches over and graze my lips, but I was too chicken to turn my head so our mouths could meet. Plus, I could feel Jazz’s eyes boring holes into my back.
Bones dropped his hand from my waist, and we sat.
“You been here long?” I asked.
“About an hour.”
“An hour! But we said 1 PM.”
“I came early.”
“But why?” I asked.
“Because Brooklyn wanted to stop by and Slash wouldn’t let her come alone, and I needed to speak to Slash. Made sense for me just to come early and wait for you.”
I frowned. “Am I supposed to know who these people are?”
“Brooklyn owns the bakery,” he explained. “Brooklyn is Slash’s Old Lady.”
“Oh, right, Brooklyn. Brielle mentioned Brooklyn just had a baby so the wedding cake part of the business is on hiatus for now.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts. Brooklyn can’t stay away from the bakery. Even though it drives Slash crazy and he tries to get her to slow down.”
“What’s an Old Lady?” I asked. “Is it like, a biker wife?”
“Sorta, yeah. But an Old Lady is more than that. If something were to happen to Slash, the club would make sure Brooklyn and the baby were taken care of. We’re family.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Well, that’s nice.”
“Nice. Yeah.”
Jazz brought over my croissant and tea, her gaze bouncing back and forth between us. “Need a refill, Bones?”
“No thanks. I’m good.” He sent her a smile.
“So, what are you guys doing today?” Jazz asked.
I broke apart the buttery croissant as I waited for Bones to reply.
He flashed a grin. “I’m getting fitted for a tuxedo.”
“You’re getting fitted for a tuxedo?” Jazz repeated. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to a charity gala with Hayden. As her date.”
“Well, that’s…weird.”
“I get why you and Brielle are best friends,” I said with a laugh.
She grinned. “Let me know how you like the croissant when you’re done.”
“I will.”
Jazz headed back toward the counter as the front door opened and a few customers came inside.
“So, do you hang out here often?” I asked, taking a bite.
“Not really, why?”
“Because Jazz seems to know you well enough to tease you.”
“Jazz hangs with the club sometimes.” He adjusted his seat. “I haven’t fucked her, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
I made a noise in the back of my throat. “That wasn’t what I was getting at.”
“Okay.” He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips. “Speaking of fucking—are you fucking anyone? Because if you are, you need stop.”
“Can you lower your voice?” I snapped, feeling my cheeks heat. “We’re in public.”
“So?”
“So, can you not drop the F-word so casually?”
“The F-word? You’re adorable. And your face is red.”
“You need to be put on a leash,” I muttered.
“The only one getting collared is you.”
“Okay, whoa. If you can’t behave, I’m leaving.” To back up what I said, I stood.
“Relax, I’m just kidding. Sit down. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”
I shot him a look.
“I promise,” he said again.
“This is a good segue into discussing the gala. Clearly, I’m going to have to give you some pointers on appropriate topics of conversation.”
“If you make me talk about stock portfolios the deal is off,” he joked.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I appreciate the fact that you’re doing this for me, but people are going to talk. They’re going to wonder who you are, where we met, your pedigree, all of it.”
“People? Or your mother.”
I closed my mouth.
“Has the senator’s son called you yet?”
“No.”
“Good. Which brings me back to my original question. Are you fucking anyone?”
“Bones,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
“Just answer the question.”
“You answer the question,” I fired back with a glare. “What was it you said? Right… Big tits, big hair, big attitude? Got any of those hanging around?”
“Nope.”
I raised my brows. “Really?”
“Really.” He leaned forward. “Now answer the damn question.”
“No, there’s no one else.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“What?”
“You might not have big hair, but your big attitude gets me hard.”
“I noticed you didn’t say anything about my other attributes.”
“That’s because you don’t have big tits.”
I glared.
“You’ve got perfect tits.”
“There must be something wrong with me, because I’m far too flattered by your crass compliment.”
“I’ll give you five bucks if you say fuck.”
“Finish your coffee, Bones. We have somewhere to be.”
“You look tired,” Bones said as we walked to my car.
“Your compliments need work.”
“Thought we established that I give good compliments.” He winked. “Seriously, Duchess. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I slept. Kind of.”
I unlocked my car and Bones opened the driver’s side door for me. “What do you mean kind of?”
“I mean I fell asleep on the couch and the next thing I remember Charlie was waking me up from a nightmare. And instead of going back to sleep right away, we stayed awake for a while. I crashed again around seven this morning.”
Before I could climb into the seat, Bones reached out and cradled my cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking my skin. “You ready to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
“Okay.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. It was deeper than a hello kiss. It was an I-want-you-but-I’m-going-to-tease-you-into-wanting-me kiss. It was a kiss I wanted to fall into. It was a kiss that made me forget he wore leather, rode a motorcycle, and had tattoos.
It was a kiss that made me want to ask him to spend the night with me, so I didn’t have to be afraid of the dark.
I gently pressed my hand against his chest and pushed him away. “We’re going to be late.”
“I don’t mind being late,” he whispered huskily.
A shiver danced down my spine and desire pooled in my belly.
“My world, my rules. And in my world, we are punctual to appointments.”
He stepped back and waited for me to get into the car before closing my door. Then he went around to the other side and climbed in. He adjusted his seat to give his long legs room to stretch out.
“You never texted me back last night.”
“I didn’t?” I buckled myself in.
“You know you didn’t.”
“Should we go over these rules?” I asked him, shooting him a flirty look.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Nah. I think I’ll let you surprise me.”
The temperature in the car felt like it suddenly spiked.
I cleared my throat. “We need to go.”
“You’re the one driving, Duchess. Unless you want me to drive because you’re so flustered you can’t see straight?”
“I’m not flustered.”
He laughed. “Okay. Just don’t crash. I actually want to see what I look like in a tux.”
Bones looked majestic in a tux. Even a tux off the rack that didn’t fit him properly.
“Not too shabby,” Bones said as he looked at himself in the mirror. “I might pass for a gentleman.”
“God, I hope not,” I blurted out.
I met his gaze in the mirror.
“I mean, I like the way you look,” I amended. “The tux is a nice change. I was correct though. You’re going to need a custom tux.”
“You’re right,” Mr. Ambrose said. “His arms and shoulders are too muscular for that coat. I can take material away, but I can’t add it and keep the bespoke look.”
“And the pants don’t hang correctly,” I added. “We have an event in two weeks. Will we be able to make it happen?”
“Anything for you, Ms. Spencer,” the aging tailor said, gripping my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll have his tuxedo ready in time.”
I kissed his cheek. “You are, and always will be, the best.”
He flushed with pleasure. I continued to speak with Mr. Ambrose while Bones changed back into his street clothes.
Bones came out of the dressing room and met us at the counter. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his credit card and handed it to the tailor.
Mr. Ambrose held up his hand. “It’s been taken care of, sir.”
Bones looked at me.
“My rules.”
His expression remained passive, but his jaw clenched. He stuck his credit card back into his wallet.
The shop phone rang and Mr. Ambrose sent me a smile as he went to answer it. “Hello? Oh, hello, Mr. Buchanan. Yes, your tuxedo is ready. I’ll have it sent over to The Rex. You’re welcome. Goodbye.” Mr. Ambrose hung up the phone and returned his attention to us. “I apologize for the interruption. I need Mr., ah…Bones’ phone number so I can call for the final fitting and adjustments.”
Bones rattled off his phone number to Mr. Ambrose.
“Give your mother my best,” Mr. Ambrose said.
“I will.”
Bones and I left the Dallas shop that had been worth the hour-long drive. Mr. Ambrose was the best tailor in the state. His family of expert tailors and seamstresses had emigrated from England to New York City in the 1940s and set up shop in the Garment District. After decades in Manhattan, Mr. Ambrose had moved to Dallas to service the oil tycoons that were invited into polite society despite their new wealth.
He was in his eighties now, but the man still cut the best suits.
“You’re not paying for my tuxedo,” Bones said as we walked down the street. “And don’t you fucking say your world, your rules.”
“Custom tuxedos are expensive,” I said.
“And you think I can’t afford it.”
“You want to spend fifteen thousand dollars on a tuxedo?”
“Fifteen-fucking-thousand? Are you insane? For a God damned custom-made tuxedo?”
“Look,” I said, pulling him out of the walkway to stand in the doorway of a furniture store. “This isn’t your world. But for me, this is everyday life. Fifteen thousand dollars for tuxedos and charity functions at two thousand dollars a plate is the norm. That’s the world I live in. Please don’t let this be a pride thing. Let me pay for this, because I can’t in good conscience ask you to spend that kind of money knowing you’ll wear the tuxedo once and never have to put it on again. Okay?”
Bones stared at me. “I still don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“You’re rich.”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“I mean, really rich…”
I nodded.
“Rich like they name buildings after your family kind of rich.”
“Only universities,” I joked.
Bones didn’t smile. “Fine. One condition though…”
“Name it.”
“When you’re in my world, you don’t get to ask questions. You just have to go along with whatever I say. Can you do that?”
I nibbled my lip while I debated.
“Duchess?”
“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
He cracked a smile. “Not unless you want to dodge the senator’s son all night on your own.”
“Okay, Bones. In your world, I won’t ask questions and I’ll go along with whatever you say.”
“You hungry?”
I nodded.
“You eat seafood?”
I nodded again.
“Good, I know a place.”