The Ice Cream Shop Boy #3 (Erotic Romance) Read online

  The Ice Cream Shop Boy #3 (Erotic Romance)

  © 2012 Mimi Strong

  Description: First the dognapping, and now Lars shows up to be the hero? What the heck is happening in Laura's life? Can she get away with the justifiable crime of taking care of Sharise? In this third and final story in The Ice Cream Shop Boy trilogy, Laura spends some quality time with her two ice cream boys, Shawn and Zach. Summer turns to Fall, then Winter, and who will she choose to snuggle up with next to a flickering fire?

  Length: 23,000 words, or 92 book pages long. This is the third story in a 3-part series.

  Spice Level: Erotic and romantic. This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only.

  1: To Catch a Dognapper

  A thunderstorm was rolling in as I banged on the door, yelling, “Give me back my dog!”

  I could hear Princess inside, barking, which only made me more determined to get that door open.

  “Do it,” I said to my accomplice. “Do whatever it takes.”

  I hadn't imagined the scenario playing out quite like this, but from the moment I'd discovered someone had broken into my apartment and stolen my dog, conflict seemed inevitable.

  Lightning strobed the dark sky, and thunder rolled across the flat Ohio landscape.

  How my accomplice and I had gotten there, to that particular door, on that night, had been through a series of logical steps.

  First of all, and the key event that had set everything in motion, was the break-in and dognapping. Because someone had written a note in lipstick and signed it “Sharise,” she was the prime suspect. Sharise and I shared little in common, except one guy, Shawn. He wasn't even in my life anymore, so I couldn't understand why she'd make the effort to travel across three states to ruin my already-disastrous life.

  My next-door neighbor Charles came over and secured the apartment as well as the door, but the insanity was only just beginning.

  The last person I expected to see that evening, holding his arms out and saying, “C'mere, baby,” was Lars, my no-good ex-fiance.

  But there he was. Looking all …heroic.

  I fell into his arms and let out one long sob. With my face to his neck, I got a strong smell of his skin, that skin I hadn't touched in so long. The reaction my body had was unexpected, to say the least. I felt attracted to him, desirous, even, but also repulsed.

  Jerking away from him, I said, “How did you know about the break-in? Do you have something to do with this?”

  He held his palms up. “Do I look like someone who breaks into apartments? Apartments I still have the keys for?”

  I looked at him cautiously. My suspicious brain went off on a wild tangent, a Lars-devised scenario in which a traumatic break-in drove me back into his arms. He didn't look like a con artist, but they aren't very successful unless they look innocent, right?

  Lars batted his thick, dark eyelashes at me. I always was a sucker for thick eyelashes. He had obsidian-black eyes and beautiful brown skin, inherited from his Jamaican mother and Dominican father. The man was handsome and sexy, and he'd built up his custom stereo installation business from nothing but hard work and charisma.

  He wore his curly hair cropped very short, and I knew he shaved everything from the neck down. As he stood there, his dark eyes flashing at me in the interrogation-bright apartment hallway lights, I found my gaze crawling down his face and smooth neck, down his tight-fitting T-shirt to his even-tighter jeans.

  “Old Lady Jessup called me,” he said, pointing to the door across from mine. “She was too frightened to come out of her place, but said she heard a suspicious racket. I guess she didn't the memo that you dumped me.”

  My mouth dropped open. The revulsion I felt toward Lars returned, full force. “I dumped you?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to reschedule the wedding and you said no.”

  Charles, who had just finished installing the new door handle, cleared his throat to remind us he was still there.

  I didn't care who heard.

  “Lars, you dumped me. You took off with—” my throat clenched shut, and I found myself unable to say her name.

  “C'mon Laurs,” he said, using his oh-so-clever nickname for me: Lars and Laurs, together forever—yeah right.

  He continued, “Let's put all that behind us and move forward.”

  “You said I was frigid.”

  Charles pressed the new keys into my hand and made a hasty retreat, disappearing into his own apartment.

  Lars said, “You told everyone my junk looked like a naked mole rat.”

  I stared up at the bright hallway ceiling thoughtfully. I did remember saying something to that effect, in front of the entire audience of people gathered for the wedding that didn't happen. The events of the day were blurry, and I wasn't my usual proper self, thanks to the champagne and the Valium that Renee gave me. Plus his shaved junk truly did resemble something from the rodent family.

  “Lars, it's over. Me. You. Us. Laurs and Lars. Over. I've already slept with another man.” His eyes widened. I continued, “Actually, I slept with two men.”

  With his eyes wide and bulging, he swore, and said, “A threesome? Aw, man. You said you'd never have a threesome. Why'd you go and get all un-frigid after we were through?”

  I felt myself pulling back, emotionally, like a professional boxer about to throw the knock-out punch. The phrase was in my mind and on my lips: I'm not frigid, the problem was always you.

  I swallowed the venom down, though, and said, “We're through, and I'm not discussing it any further.” I turned to my door, proud I hadn't sunk to his level. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to get my dog back.”

  “Dog?” Lars followed me into the apartment. “Lemme show you I'm a decent guy. Lemme help you find your lost dog. We'll make some flyers ...” He looked around. “Nice paint. Damn, why didn't we put the furniture like that sooner?”

  “I know, right?” I caught myself warming up to him and winced.

  I couldn't kick him out, because the truth was I needed the help, and after having been broken into, I didn't want to be alone. Lars wasn't great, but he was better than being alone. (That last sentence actually says a lot about our entire relationship.)

  I explained to Lars about the whole Princess situation, and Sharise. Lars always had a temper problem, and though it had gotten better in recent years, having access to his deep pool of anger was a positive thing for the first time ever. I drew off his rage, finding the courage to go after Sharise.

  Lars suggested calling all the hotels in the area that allowed dogs, in case Sharise had to spend the night in Columbus.

  Because I didn't know her last name, I got on my laptop and simply googled her first name and town. Wouldn't you know it, her Facebook page was the first result, and the dumb girl had her profile open and public. We didn't even need to phone all the hotels in the city, because she'd posted exactly where she was staying, at a motel near the airport, complete with the room number.

  “What a moron,” Lars said.

  “Let's go get my dog and beat the stuffing out of her.”

  “So cute!”

  I gave him an evil glare. “You stay away from Sharise. She's the devil.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I meant the dog.”

  That was what he said, but while I was rummaging through my things looking for that can of bear spray I'd bought for hiking, he kept scrolling through all her moronic duckface photos.

  So, it was Lars who was my accomplice when I visited Sharise at her motel room. We stood on the second-story metal walkway and banged on her door. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the air was thick with the threat of rain. Bad things
were going to happen.

  Lars was pissed, and I stood back and let him do his Hulk thing.

  When she wouldn't open up, I gave permission to Lars, and he hollered at the door, “Ma'am, I can't tell you my name because it's classified, but I'm with the special military, and if you don't open this door, I'm going to use my military skills to blow it open! And because my elite squad is top secret, there's no expense account, and you'll be footing the bill!”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the railing. Sharise was stupid, but there was no way she'd fall for his bullshit.

  She cracked the door open as far as the security chain would allow, and said, “Are you really with the special military?”

  He stood up even straighter, his rage white-hot and barely restrained. Spit flew from his mouth as he said, “Ma'am, I don't have time to argue or explain things to you, because I'm due at oh-three-hundred hours for an overseas assignment!”

  She shut the door and I shook my head at Lars and his ridiculous story. Why couldn't he just threaten to kick the door down like a garden-variety meathead?

  The door opened and Princess came running out, her little gray tail wagging. When she saw me, she practically jumped up into my arms. I scooped her up and sobbed with relief.

  Lars continued to yell at the door, “Your service to your country is appreciated, Ma'am!”

  I whispered to him, “How do I know she won't come back?”

  He rapped on the door until she opened it a crack, this time showing her moronic face. I wanted to scratch her eyes out, but I restrained myself.

  The thunder of the storm rumbled across the motel's parking lot, lightning flickering and freezing our faces in anger.

  He said, “Ma'am, you should know we have security tape footage of you entering the building, and high-definition footage of you breaking into the young woman's apartment. If you so much as set foot in Columbus again, we'll turn everything over to the police.”

  “Whatever!” she said.

  I pushed Lars out of the way and faced her myself. “I know Princess isn't yours. She belonged to Shawn, and he gave her to me, fair and square. I'll give her back to you, though, and all you have to do is look me in the eyes and say you really love her and will give her a better home than I will.”

  “Slut!” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

  I took a deep breath. “I may be a slut, but at least I'm not a moron.”

  What Sharise did next was make a major mistake. Instead of leaving well enough alone, she unlatched the chain, opened the door all the way, and started calling me every awful name in existence.

  I calmly handed Princess to Lars, pulled back my arm, and punched Sharise, right in the face. Okay, honestly, it was more of a slap than an actual closed-fist punch, and I barely touched her, but she felt it. I knew she felt it, because she actually shut up for a second.

  I was going to punch her, for real, but Lars grabbed me and pulled me away. He had Princess in one arm and me in the other, both of us squirming to get away as he led us down the walkway, away from the hotel room.

  By the time we got to the car, we were soaked with rain, but I didn't even feel the cold.

  Reunited with my pooch, we kissed all the way back to my place. And by “we,” I mean me and my Princess, who sat on my lap, giving me sweet little licks as I told her how much I adored her.

  Lars frowned and said, “You're making me jealous. First, you go and have a threesome, and now you're all lovey-dovey with this mutt.”

  “I did not have a threesome, I swear. The guys were completely separate, and three weeks apart.”

  He sounded genuinely hurt as he said, “Wow. You don't waste any time. You musta slept with one of them on our honeymoon.”

  “I'm not the bad one, Lars. I slept alone on our wedding night, unlike you.”

  He tapped the steering wheel, not denying anything.

  When we got back to my place, he insisted on walking me all the way in. At my apartment, he asked to come in for a glass of water—a typical Lars tactic. I knew he was stalling, but I wasn't even angry. He missed me. I'd meant something to him.

  I offered to make him a cup of tea, and he accepted, getting comfortable on the sofa.

  “These are nice mugs,” he said when I handed him one of the hand-made pink mugs. Zach had bought those mugs for me. My heart twinged at the thought, and I was filled with loneliness and longing.

  I sat down next to Lars, holding my warm mug of tea with honey.

  I said to him, “For the record, you were really great tonight.”

  He gave me his grin, showing me the crooked tooth we called his vampire fang. I still had some residual goodwill for him, despite everything that had happened. We'd been together three years, and he'd seen me through hard times before.

  He reached over and rubbed my knee, and I thought, maybe.

  He said, “You can thank me with a blowjob.”

  I stood and pointed to the door. “Out.”

  “Aw, c'mon baby. I never get blowjobs anymore.”

  “Out.”

  Shaking his head, he left. I locked the door behind him and started to laugh.

  From the other side of the door, he said, “I can hear you.”

  “Go home, Lars!”

  Princess came to my feet and looked hopefully at the leash hanging by the door.

  She'd already gone pee before we'd come up, just moments earlier, and every time we went out, I worried we might run into Zach and Duke, assuming they were still in town.

  “No more walkies tonight,” I told her, and I went to the bathroom to clean up the smashed fern and scrape Sharise's lipstick off the mirror.

  On Tuesday at work, I told Delphinia what happened the night before. She twirled her long, beautiful cornrow braids and listened without judgment.

  When I was done telling her about the whole sordid evening, she said, “Lars is a dick.”

  “Why did nobody tell me this when we were engaged? If he'd showed up that day, I would have married him. He'd be my husband.” I pretended to gag, and Delphinia scrambled for her recycling bin.

  I assured her I was only joking, and not going to throw up.

  “Raspberry tea works for nausea,” she said, the corner of her mouth twisting up in a secretive smile.

  I gasped. “Really?”

  She patted my arm with her graceful fingers, her nails striped in purple and green that day. “I'm not at the official tell-people point, so don't say a word. As my assistant, though, you're practically my work wife.”

  I made a funny face. “Work wife?”

  She drew her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no. That's sexist. I'm sorry.”

  I waved one hand at her, then gathered up the paperwork and fabric samples she had on her desk for me. “Don't worry, I know what you meant.”

  Back over at my desk, I stewed over the comment. Work wife? No, that didn't sit well at all.

  My career was going about as well as my love life.

  We were all in a holding pattern at the company, as far as our jobs went. The company was moving to New York after the acquisition, or maybe it wasn't.

  Screw waiting around like some career wallflower, I thought, and I pulled up my resume, which hadn't been updated in the two years I'd been there.

  Half an hour later, I'd already sent out two cover letters for job postings I'd found online.

  My cell phone rang with an un-programmed number, and I froze in terror. If it was one of the jobs I'd applied for, that was certainly fast.

  I answered the phone, trying to not sound terrified.

  The voice was male, and he said, “Hi Laura. I don't know if this is enough notice, but would you like to have dinner with me on Friday night?”

  Lars rarely called me Laura, so I figured it was Zach Mikhelson.

  “I'm really busy,” I said coolly.

  In the silence that followed, I realized it wasn't Zach on the phone. Zach wouldn't leave so many seconds of silence in a conversation.

&nb
sp; “Shawn?” I said.

  “Yes, it's me. Is this a bad time?”

  “A few weeks ago might have been a better time.”

  “Um …”

  He was quiet for a moment, as was I. Then it hit me. Sharise. That horrible, awful woman. I wanted to slap her all over again.

  “Shawn, did you send me a text message saying you were back dating Sharise?”

  He laughed, then he stopped. “Shit,” he said. “Someone stole my phone. I had to get a new one, and I went ahead and got a new phone number, too, so Sharise wouldn't have it.”

  “So, you two are not dating?”

  “No, but … Laura, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I didn't have your number, and I thought maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was for the best. But then I ran into the guys from the B&B and they asked about you, and … I hope you don't mind, but they gave me your number. And now I'm calling you.”

  I was still sitting at my desk, in my chair, but my world was whirling.

  My voice caught in my throat as I said, “And you're coming here?”

  “I've got someone to mind the shop, so I'm planning to take a trip to Ohio. I can get a hotel. You're not obligated to put me up or anything.”

  I smirked and rearranged the pens on my desk. “I have a couch you can sleep on.”

  I wanted to say more, but didn't.

  We made arrangements for him to come straight to my place from the airport, and I ended the call, my world still spinning.

  Petting Princess on her dog bed next to my desk, I said, “Your daddy's coming to visit.”

  She kicked her leg in her sleep.

  Guiltily, I realized I hadn't mentioned anything to Shawn about my little altercation with his ex, Sharise. I wanted him to know, and yet, I worried about how I came across in that story. I was the one who tracked her down and banged on the door, then assaulted her. She definitely had that slap coming, but isn't that what all the crazy people say?

  2: Company's Coming

  That night, Tuesday, Renee came over to help talk me out of a panic attack. Shawn was coming to see me, and we'd had an incredible night together when we'd met, but would that continue? Or would he see me for the loser I was and dump me?