A Tiara Under The Tree

“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.

The door opened before Dominic had a chance to knock. A wave of scent from a sweet-smelling candle swooshed through the opening of the door. Tiffani popped her head out.

“I thought I heard the elevator.”

Alisha lived in one of the newer condominiums in Southwood. It was built in a square with a courtyard down below in the center. The elevator closer to Alisha’s place was out of commission. The other elevator was down the hall on the other side. How Tiffani had heard the elevator when he took the steps was beyond him. Had she seen him pull into the parking lot from Alisha’s balcony?

Rather than embarrass her, he nodded. “Yep, that was me.”

A pink teacup pig wearing a pink tutu wedged his snout in the door crack. Tiffani stepped aside to let Dominic in. Once Hamilton finished sniffing him, he began to hop around Dominic’s black boots. A load of laundry tumbled in the dryer in the room to the right of the foyer. Dominic proceeded down the hall, passing the guest bedroom he slept in on the nights he worked too late and the kitchen to the left. The island bar was home to a number of expensive bottles of wine. A pile of folded laundry sat on the edge of Alisha’s glass-top table. In the living room Dominic found clothes on top of the long pink-and-gray-plaid couch. The gray recliner was covered with a pink blanket with Hamilton’s toys. The only thing open was a love seat. With Tiffani hot on his tail, Dominic chose to stand in the center of the living room and play it off as if he wanted to check out the view from the glass doors leading out onto the balcony.

“So, how’s business?”

Small talk. Great. “Business is fine,” Dominic answered politely. “I’m guessing since there was one peach cupcake left, business is good for you, too?”

“Oh, yes, my mama is pleased with the sales.”

Dominic nodded in agreement. In his research of where to set up shop, Southwood’s business scene was exploding with mom-and-pop shops. The only thing not growing was the club scene, and Dominic was fine with that. The sooner the ladies left, the sooner they’d return and Dominic could get back to the ranch.

“I should have made a new batch for you tonight,” Tiffani suggested.

“No, really.” Dominic shook his head and patted his gut. “I don’t need any more.”

“Any more? You gave the last one away,” Tiffani shrieked. The corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.

With perfect timing, Alisha strolled into the living room. The outfit she wore, half a black dress that stopped just at her butt and black stiletto heels, was best suited for a nightclub in Miami and, considering she was his little sister, best on someone else. “Gave away a cupcake? Are you nuts?”

“Some new girl in town,” supplied Tiffani with an eye roll.

Alisha looked up at Dominic. “You met a girl?” Alisha’s voice dripped with pride.

“I’m not Quasimodo, Alisha.”

“No, you’re not,” said Tiffani.

“I didn’t say you were,” Alisha said, playfully punching him in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you met a girl? When do I get to meet her? What does she do around here?”

Dominic grabbed Alisha’s fist and tapped her on the shoulder. “This is exactly why I don’t tell you things. You guys go on and enjoy your evening.”

Alisha pouted for a moment before grabbing her clutch out from under the pile of clothes on the couch. “I ordered a pizza. My favorite, so I expect there to be leftovers.”

“You eat a whole pie once or twice and suddenly people start claiming their own.” Dominic chuckled.

“I’m serious,” warned Alisha. “And Hamilton has an order of carrots and celery coming, too.”

The pig got to eat healthier than the people. Hamilton squeaked at Dominic’s feet. Dominic bent down and heavy-handedly petted the thing. “Why do you have a tutu on him?”

“Because a tuxedo would look silly.” Alisha sighed and nudged Tiffani forward so they could leave.

Alone in the living room, Dominic glanced around for the remote control. By the time he found it underneath the third cushion, the doorbell rang. He figured it had to be the pizza—Alisha’s favorite pizza, spinach Alfredo. He’d half expected Alisha to leave him with the bill, but the delivery guy said the pizza was paid for and left without waiting on a cash tip. She probably felt guilty for asking him to babysit Hamilton. Of course, Dominic thought with a chuckle, if she really wanted to make things right, she would have ordered a double-pepperoni pizza.

Dominic set the extra-large box on the counter. From the smell alone he knew the order was wrong. This was a double pepperoni, not what Alisha ordered. He raised his brow in question, wondering if Alisha had pulled a fast one on him and really got him his favorite. Who was he kidding? She mentioned she wanted her leftovers. And Hamilton’s dinner was missing, as well. Dominic tilted the box up to see the name on the order. Lexi Pendergrass Reyes, apartment 501.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Lexi was married and living in the suburbs. Last fall he’d serviced a beautiful 1952 Fiat 8V. The car had been a present from Lexi to her husband, Stephen Reyes, who happened to be the same man who sold him the ranch. They were nice people, but Dominic knew they didn’t live here. With a huff, Dominic grabbed the cardboard box and turned to Hamilton. “I’ll be right back with our food.”

Hamilton squealed an answer and then, with a snort, turned back toward the living room, spun around three times and collapsed on a pile of clothes on the floor. Dominic shook his head and walked out the door. He found apartment 501 on the other side of the building. Had he realized, he could have gone into the bedroom and called out from the courtyard-side balcony.

Loud music thumped down the hallway. The Reyes family had two girls. Was one of them old enough to be throwing a party? Dominic found himself in a dilemma. Did he stop the party from going on or did he at least make the pizza exchange? He preferred going against a teenager than dealing with Alisha’s wrath when she came home in a few hours to the wrong pizza.

Three brass numbers stood between Dominic and the pizza. Savoring the moments with the best pizza in the world, Dominic reluctantly knocked on the door. The music shut off. The sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood floor neared the door. He expected several people. With a whoosh the door swung open. Almond-shaped eyes widened at the sight of him. Long, lean and slender spilled out from a pair of black stretchy shorts, which hugged her curvy hips. Instead of the bun she wore earlier, a twelve-inch diamond crown was on top of her dark hair.

“Cupcake Girl?”

Chapter 2 (#ud1e8716b-18da-5755-8cb9-5b01604fb29a)

“Dominic Crowne?” Waverly breathed the man’s name and hoped to slow down the quickening pulse zipping through her veins. Since she’d seen him last, he’d shed the tailored suit and replaced it with jeans—a pair of well-fitted jeans—and a T-shirt. Tattoos covered his arms. She tried not to stare too hard. He might as well have come with a neon sign that read DANGER. Excitement coursed through her veins.

Dominic leaned against the door frame with a pizza box propped within the crook of his arm and against his hip. A dangerous smile, accompanied with a quick wiggle of his brow, crossed his face. “You’re not Lexi.”

“This is her place,” Waverly explained. “Lexi is letting me crash here for a while.”

“Crash here for a while?” He frowned. “Is your place being painted or something?”

Waverly shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Are you volunteering or something?”

“Maybe the ‘something’ part.” Dominic licked his lips, and Waverly forgot about the howling in her stomach from a few minutes ago before pizza arrived. She stepped backward into the foyer of her apartment and caught a glimpse of her pink-tinted cheeks in the large gold-framed mirror by the door.

Waverly cleared her throat. “So, do you normally walk the halls with pizzas?”

“Oh, my bad.” He shoved the pizza toward her. “You haven’t looked at yours yet, have you?”

“I was about to sit down.”

“Right after the crowning?” Dominic asked and pointed toward the top of her head.

Heat filled her cheeks. She cocked her head to the side, untangled the combs holding her tiara in place and released her unruly hair. “Sorry, I was just...”