Kitabı oku: «A Tiara Under The Tree»

Chapter 1

Death by chocolate. Waverly Leverve licked the dark, shiny ganache off her fingertip until she cleaned her finger down to her chipped French manicure. Biting her bottom lip, Waverly glanced over the double cupcakes standing proudly on the crisp white china plate and settled on a Slow Torture Southern Peach Cobbler Cupcake.

For the last week Waverly had tried to wallow in self-pity and fatty foods. Why not? Any career as the future Miss Georgia and eventually Miss USA disappeared the moment officials forced her to give up her Miss South Georgia crown. So what if she’d colorfully told off a reporter? The journalist deserved her outburst. He’d propositioned her, assuming she was a naive pageant girl and when Waverly reacted, no one wanted to hear her side. He was the one with the recording. In hindsight, Waverly’s idea wasn’t a bright one, to tell a mic-ed reporter that the pageant establishment did not offer her enough money to sit around and smile in his face. There were a few f words dropped, along with her telling the man to self-fornicate. She should have just explained she was tired. Now here she sat in a bakery, shoveling carbs into her body.

The pink bejeweled cell phone rattled against the silver two-top table in the corner of The Cupcakery. Waverly flipped the gadget over and blinked back at the turquoise-blue screen and fat black letters.

You can’t drown yourself in food.

“Want to bet?” Waverly asked the phone. Her snarky response garnered the attention of the pretty cashier at the counter.

“Did you say something?” Tiffani asked her question from behind the register. The late-afternoon sun glinted off the arched glass protecting the cupcake display and shining against Tiffani’s face in a golden glow.

Waverly shook her head. Tendrils falling from her messy bun tickled the back of her neck. “I’m just talking to my cell.”

“Is that one of those phones you can see the person you’re talking to on?”

It was, but these days Waverly turned the feature off. The only person calling her was her mother. Jillian Leverve hated the idea of her daughter having to give up her tiara for the antics provoked by an angry journalist, but in the end she hated even more the derailed plans for the highest crown the two of them had dreamed of ever since Waverly walked in her first toddler pageant.

“Not this time, Tiffani,” Waverly said.

“You think after you finish we can work on my pageant wave and walk?”

Another ding sounded and Waverly’s phone lit up. Waverly expected a motivational quote from her tiara squad, her group of friends who understood the pageant life. Waverly picked a peach from her cupcake and savored the fruit while she read her text.

Remember, someone once said good girls seldom make history... Come and be a contestant in the pageant. The ladies are just gathering tonight. You won’t miss a thing.

Waverly responded with two letters. N-o.

At least come to the pageant and help if you insist on not participating...

And be around other people achieving what she’d failed? No, thanks. She scoffed to herself. Waverly turned her frown into a smile and grinned at the cashier. The last person she wanted to piss off was the only person not judging her for the dethroning ceremony: the cashier who supplied her with cupcakes. “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Waverly to herself.

Wallowing in her self-pity, Waverly cleared the text with her frosting-covered finger and took another glance at the latest meme. This one today captured Waverly’s ugly-cry face as she tearfully handed over her sparkly Miss South Georgia crown. The meme in question superimposed her body onto a basketball court. While her hands were on her crown, the star basketball player on the court blocked her crown as if it was a basketball.

Part of the deal for becoming Miss Georgia meant a contestant needed to maintain residency in the state for six months. Six weeks into laying her foundation and all hell broke loose. Instead of going home to her mother’s in Florida, Waverly sought refuge in the town of Southwood, Georgia, a small town just above the Florida border. Well, hell, since her dreams were placed on hold, why not give a few pointers for this weekend’s big pageant?

“Are you sure you don’t want to try out?” asked Tiffani. “Don’t you need the Miss Southwood title more than me?”

If only... Waverly thought with a frown. Talk about a conflict of interest. The sender of the recent texts was not just Lexi Pendergrass Reyes, but the Lexi Pendergrass Reyes, hostess of the Miss Southwood Beauty Pageant. The former beauty queen had herself survived vicious pageant rumors back in her reign surrounding a particularly revealing low-cut dress she designed combined with an inappropriate relationship with a pageant dad, and ended up with the last laugh.

In order to win a pageant, a contestant needed one of two things: a dress from Lexi’s store, Grits and Glam Gowns, or Lexi as a pageant coach. Lexi had coached Waverly when she first started out in pageants, and Waverly wore several of Lexi’s gowns. Any girl wearing a Lexi design won her title. But there would be too many things wrong with Waverly entering Lexi’s pageant. They were close personal friends, she didn’t have a dress and having been dropped by the pageant committee for Miss South Georgia, she had no sponsor—hence her factors hindering her road to the bigger title.

Depressed even more, Waverly picked up her fork and began digging into the Slow Torture Southern dessert. Chunks of vibrant, orange-tinted peaches clung to the sweet interior of the cupcake. The sweetness of the buttery frosting melted against her tongue.

“Hey, you know what?” Tiffani exclaimed with a curtsy. “When you’re done with the peach cupcake, I have one left for you.”

“You do?” Waverly finished the rest of her cupcake and scooted back in her seat. Licking the frosting off her finger, she headed toward the counter. Another chocolate cupcake would be dinner. In the time it took Waverly to stand up and get her plate together, Tiffani disappeared behind the black-and-white polka-dot French doors leading into the kitchen. Waverly sauntered to the counter and lingered over the curved glass. The varieties of the cupcakes tempted her. Her mouth watered at the rows. The dark chocolate with peanut butter frosting, the vanilla drizzled with caramel, the salted caramel, the chocolate wafer cookie and even the birthday cake cupcake with pastel sprinkles all tempted her.

Distracted by the hungry howl of her stomach, Waverly didn’t realize the bells over the bakery’s door had jingled until she saw the shadow of a figure blocking the blinding sun off the glass. He motioned for her to go ahead of him. Waverly turned to offer her thanks and to step out of the way for the customer since her order was on its way. Waverly’s mouth watered...and not from the yummy smells coming from the kitchen.

Over six feet tall with broad shoulders and bulky muscles poured into a dark gray suit with a yellow-and-gray paisley tie stood in front of her. The man oozed sex appeal and confirmed his status with a sexy, lopsided grin.

“Hello,” the deep, velvet voice crooned.

“Hi,” Waverly said, or at least she believed she did. It was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart against her rib cage. In the past, Waverly’s taste in men leaned more toward the obvious bad boys—the biker-guy type riddled with tattoos, ripped jeans, snug T-shirts and a reputation a mile long. One bad-boy boyfriend in particular had once got her banned from a pageant. Now, with nothing but time on her hands, Waverly might need to give men in suits a chance, just like carbs. And carbohydrates were delicious.

The man extended his copper-colored hand toward the counter. “By all means. You were here first.”

“Oh, no.” Waverly stumbled over her words. “I already know what I want.”

The man wiggled his brows. “A woman who knows what she wants? Nice.”

“Don’t be surprised,” said Waverly. “It’s not so hard to choose.”

“Not for me,” he responded. “I am here for one thing only.”

A jolt of electricity raced through Waverly. She pressed her lips together and, for the first time in a week, feared her looks. This wallowing-in-misery thing had allowed her to walk around in sweats, makeup-free, hair unkempt.

“The Slow Torture Southern Peach Cobbler Cupcake,” he announced.

Two odd feelings washed over Waverly. Jealousy and greed. Odd to envy a cupcake, right? For some reason she wished this stranger had meant wanting her. And now to realize they both stood at the counter wanting the same cupcake...

The French doors opened and Tiffani appeared with a bright red shade of lipstick Waverly had failed to notice earlier. If she wasn’t mistaken, Tiffani wore one of Waverly’s favorites—Go Get Him Red by Ravens Cosmetics. Waverly cocked her head to the side as she noticed the way Tiffani tried to control her rapid breathing. She recognized this tactic and had perfected it often when the backstage lineup changed at pageants. The cashier batted her lashes at the man.

“You’re back.”

Waverly took a step to the side. Clearly this was a tender moment between two long-lost acquaintances, right? How dare he flirt with Waverly at his lady friend’s place of business? Waverly frowned.

“You know The Cupcakery was my first stop.”

“And I have exactly what you want.” Tiffani awkwardly reached to the left while maintaining eye contact with the new customer.

“Ah, my Peach Cobbler cupcake.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Waverly said, stepping forward. “That’s mine.”

“You already had one.” Tiffani turned to Waverly with a cold smile.

Hand pressed to her heart, Waverly gasped. “But...”

“You’ve already eaten one,” Tiffani repeated, “and you still have another one on your plate. Don’t be greedy. This gentleman has traveled far just for this.” She held the plate in the air. Waverly watched as a crumb fell to the ground, much like her heart right now.

“If you already ordered this,” said the man, “by all means, have it.”

“No,” Waverly said, shaking her head. “I probably need to watch my figure.”

The man leaned toward the right for a better look at Waverly’s backside. She’d been in beauty pageants in nothing but a bikini and heels, yet she’d never felt more like a piece of meat than right now. Waverly bit her bottom lip, not sure if she needed to be offended. Given the way she’d been eating her feelings and comforting herself over poor choices, Waverly felt heavy. With the recent weight gain, his lone raised brow of approval thrilled her.

Tiffani cleared her throat. The man shook his head and gave his attention to the cashier. Waverly took the moment to walk back to her table. To prevent further embarrassment, Waverly kept walking, straight into the ladies’ bathroom. In private, away from prying eyes, the man’s in particular, Waverly clung to the clean white counter. The coolness of the marble chilled her palms, soothing the heat that rose inside her soul and tinted her cheeks a deep pink. In her quest for the tiara, Waverly had let dating fall by the wayside. Her last serious boyfriend was four years ago. Johnny Del Vecchio. He was her first crush, first everything. The local bad boy had swept Waverly off her feet and onto his motorcycle. His street racing antics helped call attention to the pageant committees and shine a spotlight on her tightrope walk on the bad side. The desire for the tiara eventually lured Waverly onto the right path.

Once her sun-kissed tan began to return, Waverly took a deep breath and headed back out into the dining area. In any other city, she would have taken her belongings with her, but Waverly knew her cupcake and classified ads were okay. The only thing different at her table was the black-and-white polka-dot box next to her plate. She immediately recognized the to-go carton, since she’d brought several home with her over the last two weeks. Waverly glanced toward Tiffani in question, only to be given a dramatic eye roll. Safe to say Tiffani wouldn’t be needing personal guidance with the pageant this evening. Waverly fingered the bow at the top of the box to loosen the card.

“It’s yours.”

She couldn’t. Waverly scooped up her belongings and headed out the door. Sunlight blinded her momentarily until she shielded her eyes with her hand. She wasn’t in the bathroom so long that she’d missed the stranger. Waverly didn’t see him in the first direction she looked, but found him the other way, at the corner.

“Hey,” Waverly called out to him. “Sir?”

The man turned toward Waverly. He wore a pair of silver aviator glasses. “Did you get my card? My name is on the back.”

Flipping the card over, Waverly silently read the raised letters. Dominic Crowne, Crowne’s Garage. “Well, Mr. Crowne, I can’t take this,” Waverly said, shoving the box out to him. He held his large hands toward her and shook his head. “At least we can share. Maybe we can go inside and get a knife.”

“First of all, the name is Dominic, and second,” he said with a wink, “I don’t share. Anything.”

His deep voice and blatant flirt sent a chill down her spine in the summer heat. “You’re pretty bold, Dominic.”

“Because I offered you the last cupcake?” Dominic asked. “Most people say I’m chivalrous.”

“You’re flirting with me when your girlfriend is in there.” Waverly nodded toward the bakery.

“Who, Tiffani?” Dominic’s deep voice rose an octave. “Why would you...? Never mind. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Obviously,” said Waverly, still pushing the cupcake toward his massive, broad chest.

“Tiffani is a family friend.”

Did Tiffani realize they were just friends? Still new to Southwood, Waverly didn’t know what families were related or who everyone’s best friend was. Waverly knew a handful of people—Lexi and her family and then, of course, Jolene, Lexi’s cousin and Waverly’s former roommate at Cypress Boarding School for Girls. What she did know was Tiffani’s kindness to her. Clearly the girl had a crush...understandably.

“Friends.” Waverly mimicked his word.

“Yes,” Dominic confirmed. He pressed the cupcake back toward Waverly. Their hands brushed and a spark was set off between them. Waverly took a step backward. He took a step toward her. “Do us both a favor—give me a call.”

Waverly stood still, her heart beating rapidly against her rib cage until Dominic Crowne crossed the street and disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians. She pondered whether to toss the business card and the cupcake into the trash. The last thing she needed right now was a relationship. No, she said to herself, the best thing for her was to focus on a new set of goals and get back on track to achieving her ultimate dream, Miss USA, starting with obtaining the Miss Georgia title. After Waverly’s heartbeat returned to a normal state, she made a drastic decision...she decided to keep the cupcake.

* * *

“You’re back sooner than I expected.” Alisha Crowne glanced up from her stack of magazines—not quite the welcome reception he expected from his little sister.

Dominic turned the open sign over to close the garage, disappointed there wasn’t a line of cars in the driveway, but there were two in the lift and that meant something. At least they weren’t the same ones up there when Dominic had left for Dubai two weeks ago.

“Will Ravens flew into town for some event,” Dominic explained and ignored the dreamy sigh Alisha made at the sound of his fraternity brother’s name. Dominic’s frat brother Will recently became the CEO of his family’s corporation, Ravens Cosmetics, and was in town for some event. “Where is everyone?” Dominic asked, looking around.

He’d opened Crowne’s Garage in Southwood in hopes of getting the townsfolk to come here rather than his ranch. Growing up poor in Miami, Florida, Dominic had known his mother could not afford to bring their hunk of junk to a mechanic every month, nor could she afford a newer car. At a young age Dominic learned how to fix the family vehicle. Eventually Dominic opened up his own garage. Miami was too busy and crowded for his classic car collection and the ranch land in Southwood seemed like a perfect place to relocate. A write-up in the local paper sent people in town to his place and flooded his driveway with cars needing routine services. In order to keep his privacy, Dominic opened up a shop in town. He liked restoring vehicles.

Twenty-one-year-old Alisha blew a bubble with her bright pink gum and shrugged. “I mean, I told everyone to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s nothing to do here and there’s a whole kickball-slip-n-slide tournament going on right now.”

Dominic bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything too rash. He’d made the decision when he moved to Southwood six months ago to bring his party-going sister with him. Their mother, Angela, was at her wit’s end with Alisha. She wasn’t in school and hung out with a fast crowd in Miami. Ten years older than his sister, Dominic had become the surrogate father to Alisha and their brothers, Dario and Darren, when their father left them. Dario and Darren were at least on the right path in life and in college, even if it were every other semester, and staying out of trouble...usually.

“And what about the cars here?” Dominic hiked his thumb toward the vehicles in the air.

“Gee, Dom, the parts haven’t arrived in the mail like we expected,” Alisha said through a forced smile. She picked up a stack of letters. “I know what I’m doing.”

Because the stack in her hands was so thick, Dominic questioned her last statement. “I ordered the parts three weeks ago, before I left.”

“I know.” Alisha handed Dominic the stack of mail addressed to him. “And I need you to go through these as soon as possible. You never responded to the District Planning Committee about sponsoring a contestant.”

Dominic’s left eye twitched as he wondered what his sister was talking about. “What?”

“There is a beauty pageant this coming weekend and I know you want to put up a few more garages in town.”

“Okay?” Dominic said, humming to himself. No one could compare to the beauty he’d met this afternoon—sort of met. He never caught her name, but Dominic promised himself once he did, he’d never forget it. The cupcake girl was unlike any woman Dominic had met in a while. After spending two weeks in Dubai and enticed with vapid, gorgeous women who ate nothing but lettuce, Dominic enjoyed seeing a woman with a healthy appetite. Having practically raised Alisha, Dominic was well aware of how women behaved around men. Alisha and her friends pigged out at home but pretended to be on diets on dates.

The trip to Dubai had been half pleasure and half business. His other college friend Aamir Assadi requisitioned Dominic’s help with a few vehicles and insisted he come to Dubai to deliver them personally. Aamir sent his private plane for Dominic and set him up in his family’s high-rise condominium. When he learned Will planned on coming to Southwood, Dominic wasn’t heartbroken to cut his time overseas short to accommodate Will’s arrival. Owning three different garages and two restoration shops in South Florida allowed Dominic to expand up north, to serve a larger clientele without distraction from city life. Dominic had purchased a ranch-style home on the outskirts of Southwood. The large space of open pavement was a huge selling point for test-driving the horsepower of his restored vehicles. In emergency cases, he might be asked to use the paved land for life-flight helicopters. Dominic kept the strip clear of parked cars, so landing on the makeshift airstrip had cut down on travel time for Will and hopefully opened up time for the friends to hang out and catch up.

“Tiffani still needs a sponsor.”

Dominic did not need his sister’s fast best friend thinking there was a future for them. Sponsoring her would not clarify things. “Tiffani’s parents own The Cupcakery. Why aren’t they sponsoring her?”

“They are, but if you’re willing—”

“I’m not.” Dominic cut her off. “I don’t have time for a pageant or the drama of one, Alisha. Try again.” He pushed away from the counter and headed off toward his office.

“You need to become more involved with the community,” Alisha hollered after him. “Folks are still bringing their cars to the mechanic in Peachville. Tiffani knows people. She can be an asset.”

Dominic let the glass door close without a care about the rattling frame. A sigh of relief escaped from the back of his throat. No more hotel rooms. No more surprise visitors knocking on the door. While Dominic wasn’t the best cook, he at least would have something he made without feeling guilty for all the richness...maybe even a protein shake, and then he’d hit the gym. Dominic strolled over to his desk, wondering why he didn’t stay home. When Aamir’s private plane landed on Dominic’s property to drop him off, he should have just stayed home instead of coming in to check on the garage. Alas, Dominic knew he came because the garage was his baby.

The walls in Dominic’s office were adorned with pictures of some of his work: the first car he’d restored, the celebrities he worked with and the first garage he opened up when he turned twenty. Not bad for a kid who almost dropped out of high school. Dominic glanced up at his diploma, framed by his family. His mother had been so proud to have a son earn a full scholarship to Stanford, especially when they grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

A stack of paperwork teetered on the corner of his custom-designed desk. The hood of the 1969 Camaro had been stripped from the rest of the body and turned into a desk in a twisted form of revenge from an old friend of his who’d found his car-loving wife with another man. Dominic stretched before sitting down. The door to his locker room was still closed, but he knew his coveralls were waiting for him. He’d spent the last two weeks showing off the Ferrari and Porsches he customized for Aamir, but now he was ready to get started working beneath the hood of any of the cars. Being underneath a four-thousand-pound car soothed him.

Instead of getting up to change, Dominic sat and decompressed. His mind went back to the woman at The Cupcakery. For once Dominic wished he’d listened to Alisha and got more involved with the community. He sponsored Little League games. Several peewee baseball teams bore the Crowne’s Garage logo on the backs of their shirts. He never went to a game long enough to get to know anyone, though. Growing up and taking care of everyone in his family had never left time for Dominic to socialize. Alisha, on the other hand, had been out the first weekend she moved here. In order to keep her safe and from driving out to his ranch so late at night, Dominic bought Alisha a condo within walking distance of the garage. The two-bedroom place worked out fine for him as well when he worked later than expected in the garage.

Rapid, hard knocks banged against the glass and the door opened before Dominic had a chance to say anything. Alisha appeared in the doorway, hand on her hip.

“Please,” Dominic said, waving her inside. She didn’t budge but instead huffed. “What?”

“I’m heading out now.”

“Okay?” Dominic asked in a slow drawl.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

Dominic returned Alisha’s huff. “Apparently so. What’s up?”

“You were going to watch your nephew this evening.”

By nephew, Alisha meant her teacup pig, Hamilton. Dominic wiped his hands down his face. “Alisha, I just returned.”

“Yes, from a vacation without me while I stayed here and ran the garage,” she reminded him. “When you told me how long you were going without me, you promised me the minute you got back you’d babysit. And you’re back. Perfect timing, too.”

“Alisha.”

“Dominic,” Alisha whined and bobbed her knee—the telltale sign of an adult temper tantrum. “C’mon. I won’t be out long. I’ll even buy you a pizza.”

With his stomach rumbling, Dominic was sold. But he couldn’t let Alisha know. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” his sister squealed. “I’m going to leave to get ready. I’ll see you in a few?”

“I suppose.”

There were a few things Dominic needed to go through before leaving. He preferred to go straight home, but a promise was a promise. His father, John, made the biggest promise ever and let everyone down. “I’ll be back” was more than a line from a futuristic cyborg. The last words John had said to the family had stuck with Dominic forever. He hated to let anyone down, especially anyone he cared for. Dominic flipped through his mail and spotted the familiar return address from an Arizona home. Like he did with the other letters he received since setting up shop in Southwood, he threw it away.

Dominic lingered in the office for a little bit while Alisha and her friend got ready at her condo. He saw no need to sit in Alisha’s frilly living room and dodge Tiffani’s attempts at flirting. It wasn’t like Tiffani wasn’t pretty—she was—but she was also his sister’s good friend, which meant she had a lot of qualities like Alisha. Dominic wanted a woman with goals in life. Alisha cared about the next party and Dominic blamed himself for always indulging in her demands. His mind wandered to the woman at the bakery as he lifted his hand to knock on his sister’s door. He shook his head at the idea of asking the cupcake woman if she wanted to get paid to stand around and look pretty at some pageant.