Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
HAYES
I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t had fun like this in a long time. Between getting the nonprofit off the ground with Hudson and Zayn and juggling the endless stream of meetings and phone calls, I hadn’t allowed myself to come up for air in nearly a year. Life was a constant whirlwind, a race against time to secure funding and help people. Now, with some breathing room, it felt like fate that Dixie appeared just when she did.
And those lips? Damn, they were hard to look away from. Every time she smiled, every time she spoke, my attention zeroed in on the subtle curve of her mouth. They were the kind of lips that promised trouble and didn’t care who knew it.
I couldn’t stop my mind from driving straight into the gutter. What those lips could do… my cock jumped and twitched just thinking about it.
But then, there she was, talking about wanting a Saint Bernard like it was the most normal thing in the world. I was dreaming about her lips and she was going on about dogs. It was both endearing and maddening. She made me think of things beyond my usual scope—mundane, everyday happiness that seemed rare in my usual life.
What was it about Dixie that pulled at me so strongly? Sure, she was beautiful—stunning actually—with her eyes that seemed to hold worlds of secrets and laughter. But it was more than that. It was her spirit, her fire. She wasn’t swept up in the charm that usually had others falling at my feet. That challenge enticed me as much as her smile.
“Do you want dessert?” I asked her.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure I’m supposed to say no.”
“But?”
“But I have heard some pretty impressive things about dessert here,” she said.
“Anything special you’re thinking?”
“It’s your brother’s restaurant. I’m guessing you’ve tried it all. I’ll leave it to you to decide.”
I nodded, already knowing exactly what to order. “You trust me?” I asked with a playful edge.
She raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Should I?”
“Absolutely not,” I said with a grin that I hoped looked charming rather than maniacal. I signaled the waiter who appeared almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting just out of sight for my cue.
“I’ll have two of the chocolate lava cakes, please.” I paused, glancing back at Dixie. “And two glasses of the dessert wine, the late harvest Riesling.”
The waiter nodded and disappeared. I turned back to Dixie, whose interest seemed piqued. “Chocolate lava cake and Riesling? Going all in on impressing me?”
“It’s not just about impressing you,” I said. “My brother would kick my ass if I didn’t treat you to the house best.”
“You won’t hold it against me if I completely dig into this cake, right?”
“Should I tell them to hold the forks?”
“Maybe,” she said with a wink.
Dixie’s laugh was big and bold. It echoed through every corner of my soul, making me realize how empty it had been feeling lately. I had put my personal needs on the backburner for too long, and relaxing with a beautiful woman was refreshing.
The waiter delivered the dessert and glasses of wine. Dixie’s eyes widened. “Hot mama.”
“Dane always says you eat with your eyes,” I said.
“Your brother is a genius.”
“Yes, but you also have to eat with your mouth. Take a bite. I know you’re dying to taste it.”
She picked up her fork, piercing the delicate crust of the lava cake, and the chocolate oozed out. She forked up a piece and brought it to her lips. The moment the dessert hit her tongue, her eyes closed momentarily, a look of pure bliss sweeping across her face.
My cock went from twitching to thumping the underside of the table, damn near wagging like a dog’s tail. I grunted, fighting back the lust flooding my system. I had no idea cake could be so sexy.
I cleared my throat and did my best to rein in little Hayes. “That good, huh?” I took my own bite and the rich chocolate coated my tongue.
Incredible didn’t begin to cover it. Dane had outdone himself.
“This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she said.
“I’ll be sure to pass that compliment along,” I responded with a smile, enjoying the sight of her indulgence.
We savored the cake in between sips of the Riesling, which enhanced the whole experience. Normally, Riesling was way too sweet for me, but paired with the bitter notes of chocolate, it was exquisite. Or maybe it was just the company.
After satisfying our sweet tooths, I paid the bill and walked her outside.
Dixie glanced up at the sky, her breath visible in the chilly night. “Think the party’s died down yet?” she asked.
“Doubt it. Pamela probably pulled out the karaoke machine by now. Ryan’s trying to keep her from belting out eighties power ballads.”
She laughed, her nose scrunching adorably. “Poor Ryan. You know he’ll cave.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” she asked.
“Maybe. But I’m sure they assumed we stayed much longer than we actually did.”
“I hope so,” she said, fishing her keys out of her purse.
I pulled out my phone, ready to call a car. “We’ve both had a couple glasses of wine. I’ll get us a ride. Your stone-cold sober driving is terrifying. I don’t want to know what it’s like after some drinks.”
She nodded, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Good plan. I should have skipped that second glass, but it was so worth it.”
Before I could book a car, the clip-clop of hooves caught our attention. A horse-drawn carriage rolled up to the curb, its driver tipping his hat to us.
I glanced at Dixie, raising an eyebrow. She returned my look, smirking. “Seriously? Did you plan this?”
“I’m not that smooth.” I grinned, stepping forward. “But why not? You have somewhere better to be?”
We climbed into the carriage, the bench seat creaking under our weight. The driver flicked the reins, and we were off. Dixie tucked her hands deeper into her jacket, but her eyes were bright as she pointed out landmarks and hidden gems.
“See that building?” she said, gesturing to a small storefront with a weathered sign. “That’s where I work.”
“Custom furniture shop?” I said, reading the sign.
She nodded. “I flip old pieces, make them into something new. It’s half client requests, half whatever I dream up. Shabby chic, not on purpose—just my budget.”
I leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. “You’ll have to show me sometime. I could use a few unique pieces for my place.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Right, like my stuff would fit in a Bancroft home. Pretty sure your definition of unique involves gold trim and imported marble.”
“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I don’t have the taste of a Miami drug dealer.”
Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Prove it.”
Challenge accepted.
“Are you asking me to take you home?” I asked.
“No.”
“Oh, Dixie, I think you want to go home with me,” I teased.
“Ah, there’s that ego I knew you were hiding.”
“I’ve never hid my ego,” I replied. “I am who I am. Now, do you want to go to my place? It’s not far from here.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Don’t act like it’s a huge imposition,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll call my driver and have him pick us up.”
She laughed and nodded. “I guess we can’t take the horse all the way there?”
“Not unless we get a car for it too. I could arrange that.”
“You really could, couldn’t you?” She looked at me like I was a mystery.
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a wise use of time or resources, but yes, I could make it happen.”
“Let’s just get a car for us,” she said. “For now.”
My personal driver arrived after finishing dinner with his family. The ride was quiet, her head resting lightly against the window as she took in the sights of the city. When we pulled up in front of my building, her eyes widened.
“You live here?” she asked, stepping out of the car and looking up.
“Top floor,” I said, gesturing toward the towering structure. “Someone in the family owns the building. A cousin, I think. I don’t know. The Bancrofts are a big clan.”
The doorman greeted us with a nod as we entered. The marble lobby gleamed under soft lighting. The elevator ride was smooth and swift, and when the doors slid open, Dixie stepped into my penthouse with curiosity and caution.
I watched her take it all in: the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of Central Park, the open layout with sleek furniture, the modern art pieces lining the walls.
“Okay, it’s not gaudy but it’s pretty pretentious,” she said, though her voice held more awe than judgment.
“Give me a chance,” I said, leading her on a quick tour. “Kitchen, living room, home office… guest rooms in case one of my brothers or cousins needs a place to crash.”
She lingered in the living room, running her fingers over the edge of a glass coffee table. “Do you even use half of this stuff?”
“Not as much as I should,” I admitted. “But come on, the best part is out here.”
I slid open the balcony doors. We stepped outside into the cool evening air. The city stretched out before us, a sea of glittering lights. From our perch high above, it felt like we could see all the way to Florida. Dixie leaned against the railing, her hair catching the breeze.
“This…” she whispered, her voice almost reverent. “This view should be illegal.”
“Right?” I said, moving to stand beside her. “But it’s better with you here.”
“What floor are we on?”
“This floor is the one hundred and twenty-ninth,” I said.
“How many floors is your apartment?”
“Three, but I haven’t actually been to the top one in a while.”
She started laughing. “You haven’t been to the top floor?”
“It’s the entertaining floor,” I explained. “Ballroom, salon, and another kitchen. For all I know, there’s a family of pigeons squatting up there.”
“Holy shit,” she said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t know people actually lived like this.”
“We do.”
“I assume this is how all of you live,” she said.
“All of us?”
“Bancrofts. Your family. You guys are like New York royalty.”
“Those would be my cousins,” I explained. “I’m actually not even American.”
“What?”
“My branch of the family tree were born and raised in Vancouver, Canada,” I said. “My dad’s brother, Art, lived here. Those are probably the Bancrofts you’ve heard about. We’re all fairly new to New York.”
“I had no idea,” she said. “You really are a big clan. Do you all live in the city?”
“And the surroundings. A couple brothers have moved out into the suburbs.”
“Little houses in the burbs,” she teased.
“I’m not sure I would call them little houses, but yes. Quite a few of them are married with children or expecting children.”
“Gotta keep filling the city with Bancrofts,” she said with a smile.
“World domination is the goal,” I joked. “Someday, everyone will be married to a Bancroft and we’ll achieve world peace.”
“I think you’re halfway there,” she said with a laugh.
“Would you like to see the top floor?” I asked her. “That’s where the real terrace is.”
“This isn’t real?”
“This is nice, but up there is where it’s at.”
“Lead the way. But if it’s infested with pigeons, I reserve the right to flee screaming.”
I nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”
We walked by the elevator, but she paused and pointed at it. “Is that seriously an elevator—a third elevator in your house?”
“The other two are how we get to this floor. That one gets us upstairs, but I choose to use the stairs.”
“Your bedroom is on the second floor?”
“It is,” I said, looking over my shoulder at her. “Want to see it?”
“Slow down.” She laughed softly. “I want to see this terrace.”
We climbed up to the third floor. She was properly stunned by the vast space. The ballroom was empty, which always made it look so much bigger.
“Did I mention I also have a service elevator?” I joked.
“This is insane,” she whispered.
She walked to the middle of the room and twirled around with her arms out. Her laughter echoed through the vast room, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings and polished wood floors. I couldn’t help but smile, watching her spin with childlike freedom.
“I didn’t expect to find myself dancing in a billionaire’s ballroom tonight,” she said, coming to a stop and looking up at the intricate chandelier that hung from the ceiling. “Suck it, poor people. Chandeliers all around.”
“It’s not every day I bring someone here,” I confessed, walking toward her. “This place usually hosts charity balls and family gatherings, although it’s been a while.”
She wandered over to the grand piano in the corner of the room. “Do you play?” she asked, lifting the lid to reveal the ebony and ivory keys.
“No. Not really.”
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips parting in a silent invitation.
I leaned in, closing the distance between us. When our lips met, it was like being hit by lightning. Her kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, her hands finding their way to my chest as mine slid to her waist.
“Hayes,” she murmured against my lips, her voice sending a shiver down my spine.
“Yeah?” I asked, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.
“Don’t stop.”