The ultimate prize this Christmas...

Former beauty queen Waverly Leverve can barely show her face in public after an embarrassing meme goes viral. But now fate and a misdelivered pizza have brought her dreams back to life. Gorgeous bad boy turned business mogul Dominic Crowne wants to sponsor Waverly in a pageant scheduled for Christmas Eve. Waverly vows to keep their arrangement purely professional—but soon their arrangement quickly takes a sensual turn...

Dominic knows that his golden touch can fix almost anything—including Waverly’s tilted tiara. Against his own will, Dominic is mesmerized with his stunning new client. He’s falling for the pageant princess and the vulnerable yet sexy woman within. But when Waverly’s ultimate goal finally comes within reach, can he help her achieve professional redemption and find his Princess Charming under the mistletoe?

Pine needles were scattered across the top of the car. From the incident, the road rash had resulted in a half-bare tree.

Standing, Dominic wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. His six-pack abs flexed and Waverly averted her eyes toward the tree. The timber was safe from getting run over, thanks to the abandoned road Dominic had thought to take. His eyes followed hers. “I’m getting you another tree. We’re tossing this.”

Before he took another step toward the road, Waverly reached for Dominic’s arm. His bicep twitched beneath her palm. “I don’t need a tree.”

Dominic paused for a moment. Their eyes locked. Suddenly the tree was no longer in question. Waverly’s heart raced. Her feelings, jumbled with the longing for what the Harveys had and wanting it with Dominic, came into mind.

“What is it you need, Waverly?”

“I— I—” The words were lost but the action was not. Waverly leaped forward and threw herself into Dominic’s arms. He caught her and spun her body around, placing her back against the hood.

Dear Reader,

Waverly Leverve has always had a passion for beauty pageants and bad boys. At one point in her life, her mother feared the latter would ruin her chances for the ultimate tiara. Eventually, Waverly’s mouth got her in trouble. Can you imagine having your ugly-cry face captured and placed on a viral meme for the world to see and use for their entertainment? Welcome to Waverly’s new world. What’s a dethroned pageant gal to do? Step back into the tiara of course.

I had a blast imagining all the memes of Waverly’s ugly cry. A lot of my inspiration came from a particular “crying meme” of a legendary basketball player.

Until the next pageant...happy reading!

Carolyn Hector

A Tiara Under the Tree

Carolyn Hector

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Child’s voice might scare some folks from ever sharing their work. But CAROLYN HECTOR rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what she’s up to on Twitter: @Carolyn32303.

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I would like to dedicate and acknowledge my editor, Carly Silver, and her magical editing squad. I say this with my most sincere pageant wave and ugly cry—THANK YOU.

Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge my Destin Divas for their entertainment, friendship and wisdom.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

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.

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

“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...”

Dominic held up his free hand. “It’s okay. You had that second cupcake today—it was worth celebrating, I understand.”

Waverly decided not to expose her greed and tell him she’d eaten a total of three cupcakes today. “Thanks.” She laughed lightly. “You said something about a pizza?”

As if remembering the food in his arms, Dominic blinked and inhaled deeply while he nodded. “The delivery guy mixed up the apartment numbers. My sister lives across the courtyard and she’s going to kill me if I don’t leave her any leftovers. She only bought the one, even though I’m here to do a favor for her.”

With widened eyes, Waverly bobbed her head from side to side. She took a step forward into the hallway and peered into the steaming-hot box for a peek of a double-pepperoni pie. “I wonder what I got. What other pizza could there be?”

“Jesus, now more than ever I need to know your name,” Dominic groaned, pressing his hand against his chest. “At least I need to know your first name. Your last name isn’t necessary.”

She cocked her hand on her hip and laughed. “Why is my last name not necessary?”

“Because it’s about to change to mine.”

“At least let me hyphenate it,” Waverly responded with a laugh. “Waverly Leverve-Crowne.”

“As long as we can eat double pepperoni and cupcakes every day.”

How was she supposed to just take her pizza from him without offering some of hers? Waverly opened her door wider and waved him inside. Taking the cue, Dominic strolled in. His walk was cocky, and he was confidently aware of his sexual prowess. Waverly inhaled deeply and shook her head. Something about this seemed wrong...but when was she ever known to make the right decisions?

“The pizza is in the kitchen,” said Waverly. She walked passed him, bumping her shoulder against his hard biceps. Steam still rose from the cracks of the large square box. Stepping away from the kitchen gave herself the chance to realize she hadn’t been able to smell the spicy pepperoni. Now she caught a whiff of the Alfredo. Chicken Alfredo was good—on a plate of pasta. On a pizza? Waverly frowned. “Does your sister like you?”

Dominic came around the island bar of her kitchen. He set her box on the counter next to the fraudulent pizza. “Depends on her mood. I’m guessing she doesn’t tonight.”

“What a shame you don’t share things, because I feel so horrible for you not having a normal pizza.” Glad to be in the presence of someone who appreciated a classic pizza, Waverly grinned. She attempted to pull the box closer to her side of the counter, but Dominic held on to one corner with a finger and stopped her.

“Well, hold on now.” His left brow rose and matched the amused smile spreading across his handsome face. “Didn’t I say there were exceptions?”

“No, but I’m guessing one of them is for pizza?”

“For you,” he said with a wink, “I’ll make the exception.”

The line was corny, yet Waverly laughed—not just laughed but giggled. “I feel so honored.”

“Well, it’d be my honor to dine with the queen,” said Dominic, grabbing the tiara from her hand. A shocking overprotective sensation washed over her. This might have been what new mothers felt when someone held their newborn babies. The sparkly band looked so tiny and fragile in Dominic’s large, rough hands.

Waverly touched the crown with her fingers. Having it on top of her head was natural. With it off her head, she felt anxious. Tonight she’d planned on having a date night with herself. “Sorry,” Waverly mumbled and took the crown from his hand. She placed it back on top of her head where it belonged.

“Do you always wear a crown?” Dominic asked. He squinted his light brown eyes at her. “Was I so blinded by your beauty earlier that I didn’t notice?”

“No,” Waverly replied and moved toward the cabinets. She reached for the blue-and-white-patterned plates from the cupboard above the sink. She got up on tiptoe. Warmth oozed down her body when Dominic appeared behind her to help guide a plate down. Dominic took it from her hands and set it on the counter next to the one she had already taken out for herself. “I wasn’t expecting company this evening, and I’d already reserved a table for a pity party of one.”

“Now, what would a woman like you be doing with a table like that?” Dominic leaned against the counter as if he belonged there. And he did, as odd as it sounded. The blue Victorian accents on the cookie, flour and sugar jars in the kitchen made Dominic look like a bull in a china shop.

“If I told you, you’d think I’m crazy.” Waverly chuckled. She motioned for Dominic to have a seat at the counter with her. Dominic opened the large lid to the pizza. Pepperoni-scented steam rose through the air. “Would you care for a beer?”

For a moment Dominic pressed his hands to his bowed head. She wondered if he was religious and praying before his meal. “Dear Lord, thank you for bringing this woman before me. Smart, beautiful, seemingly sane if you don’t count the tiara and drinks beer? Not sure what I’ve done to deserve this, but thank you.”

Waverly shook her head. The left side of her face tightened with her half smile. “You’re crazy.” Quickly she grabbed two bottled beers from the door of the fridge and kicked it closed before returning to her guest. She set the bottles down as Dominic began to serve the pizza.

“Then we’re the perfect pair,” said Dominic. “One slice or two?”

“Are you going to judge me if I put two slices together for a pizza sandwich?” Waverly asked, adjusting her invention. In midserve, Dominic dropped a slice onto the floor, dug his keys from his front pocket and pretended to push himself away from the counter. Was he shocked? Turned off? “Too disgusting?”

“No, not at all.” He laughed. “I’m bringing you in front of the justice of the peace right now.”

“If Jillian wouldn’t have a fit, perhaps.”

“Who is Jillian?” Dominic asked. “Your mom?”

Waverly nodded and took her seat. “Yes.”

“I get it.” Dominic nodded and took a seat, as well. “She’d want to be there at our wedding.”

“Maybe so,” said Waverly. “I think she’d be more pissed off at me ruining my chances to enter the Miss Georgia Pageant next year. A married woman cannot enter.”

Dominic nodded slowly while he fixed two slices together like she did. “Okay, so we’ll hold off our wedding until after you win.”

“No,” said Waverly.

“No?” Dominic repeated with a hint of hurt in his deep voice.

“Sorry. It’s a habit for me to say I’m running for Miss Georgia.” Waverly picked up a slice of her pizza and took a bite of the tip. For a moment she closed her eyes and let her tongue savor the spiciness of the pepperoni and the creamy yet salty flavor of the mozzarella cheese. When she opened her eyes, she found Dominic staring at her.

“I can’t eat until you tell me the rest of the story.”

“There’s nothing much to tell,” Waverly said with a shrug. “I was a beauty queen and now I’m...” She hesitated and hated the idea of telling Dominic the whole story—meme and all. “I’m an outcast.”

“Outcast means drama-free.” Dominic raised his beer in the air. “Here’s to being an outcast.”

Waverly lifted her beer in cheer. Their bottles clinked in a toast and they ate for a few minutes in silence. There were a few moans of pleasure here and there from the both of them, each enjoying a true American pastime. Halfway through his first slice, Dominic cleared his throat.

“I’m going to assume it’s safe to say you know about pageants.”

An uncomfortable lull washed over Waverly. She hated having to explain pageant life to people who weren’t familiar with the culture. Irresponsible television documentaries made a mockery of the sport. Most folks ironically judged women who donned bathing suits and ball gowns. Waverly did not want Dominic to get the wrong idea of her. “Are you serious?”

Chewing, Dominic shrugged. Distracted, Waverly wondered how much weight he lifted every day to get his muscles so big. The fabric of his cotton shirt was stretched to the limit against his tattooed arms. She couldn’t make out all the designs but could identify a bird, maybe an eagle or a hawk, a few knives and words written in a foreign language. Clearly he was addicted to the ink. Sweat beaded above her upper lip and she began to perspire under her arms. Waverly knew summers in Southwood brought a whole new meaning to Southern heat, but damn, Dominic Crowne rewrote the definition. She took a swig of her beer.

“I’ve been out of the country,” said Dominic. “I didn’t think I missed so much. What’s up?”

If he hadn’t heard about her embarrassment, it would only be a matter of time. In order to get ahead of the embarrassing meme, she needed to show him now. Waverly pushed away from the counter and retrieved her cell phone. The latest version had been turned into a mock-up video spliced together with images, the work of someone’s overactive imagination. The tiara was turned into a silver keg, and instead of Waverly placing the crown on her replacement’s head, she was knocking her out. Little cartoon blue and yellow birds flew around her replacement’s head.

“Well—” Waverly sighed “—here’s what you’ve missed.” Dread washed over her. How long after he watched the video would it be until he keeled over with laughter?

“Hey,” Dominic said softly, covering the phone in her hand, “whatever you want to show me, I’m sure it is in the past. I’m interested in you today, here in the present.”

“You really need to see this before you get involved with me.”

Dominic winked and washed away her fear with the stroke of his fingers against her wrist. “So you admit you’re interested in me.”

“I don’t see how we can marry tonight without a mutual attraction,” Waverly said with a grin. She pulled her wrist away, hating the immediate withdrawal of his touch. Addicted after one touch?

Dominic wiped his hand against the length of his face. “Attraction is putting it mildly. We eat the same kind of cupcake and pizza, drink the same beer.”

The imaginary neon orange warning sign over his head flashed, but Waverly ignored it. Why bother following the rules now? An unmistakable pull drew her close to him. Her wrist twitched for him to take it again; he did, and let his fingers lace with hers. “What more proof do we need?”

As if to show her, Dominic rose to his feet and brought his face down, close to hers. His lips lingered over her mouth, his breath teasing her with anticipation. Waverly rose on tiptoe, inciting the kiss, fanning the flames of desire boiling between them. Dominic caressed the side of her face with his free hand. His fingers found their way into her hair and tousled the loose strands. His lips covered hers.

His tongue gracefully entered her mouth, introduced itself to Waverly’s and slipped away. Her hand had twitched with withdrawal a few minutes ago, and Waverly’s lips quivered when Dominic pulled away for a moment. Not done with their kiss, Dominic turned his head to the other side and cupped both her cheeks. For the first time in weeks, Waverly forgot about everything else in the world. A rumble rolled through her belly. How fast would it make her if she invited Dominic to her bedroom?

“I have my answer,” Dominic whispered. He kissed her lips one last time before he pulled away and stood to his full height. “How about you?”

Waverly pressed her forehead against his chest. The beat of his heart sounded against hers. “What was the question?”

Chuckling, Dominic dropped his hands and stepped backward to hold out her seat for her. “We should stop.”

“We should,” Waverly agreed with a slight shake of her head.

They went back to eating, forgetting how their pizza chilled while the tension between them heated with each bite. Waverly tossed her crust onto the plate. “My God, that was good.”

“The pizza or the kiss?”

“The pizza is fantastic,” Waverly answered with a sly grin. “So tell me, Dominic Crowne, what do you do at this garage of yours?”

After hearing her question out loud, Waverly hated to admit how foolish she sounded. She’d almost taken this man to her bedroom without knowing the first thing about him.

“Well, besides the typical oil changes and routine work on cars,” Dominic said, “I restore old cars and customize them for clients.”

“What’s the last big project you worked on?”

Dominic took a long drink of his beer before answering. “This morning I flew in from Dubai after a two-week trek of bringing my friend Aamir his customized Ferrari.”

“What did you do to it?”

“I put in some speakers and tires and fixed the motor so he can maximize the power when he races.”

Waverly frowned. “And how old is he?”

“Thirty, like me, almost thirty-one.”

“Ah,” Waverly drawled, “so he’s old.”

Dominic nodded. “Oh, you got jokes?”

“I’m known to say something funny a time or two,” Waverly told him with a laugh. “So did it take two weeks to deliver a car?”

“Wait until you meet Aamir at our wedding,” Dominic said. “You’ll understand.”

Waverly’s heart surged again. She knew he was teasing about the marriage, but hearing someone making plans for something other than beauty pageants felt good...human, almost. Speaking of being human, Waverly reached for a third slice of pizza. “How did you end up with friends overseas?”

“College,” he answered. “Stanford, to be exact.”

“Oh, that’s too interesting.” Waverly bit her bottom lip for a half second. Here she was, barely a full semester under her belt with a tarnished tiara, while he was highly educated and worldly. “I hear those Ivy League schools are stuck-up.”

“Stanford is not Ivy League,” Dominic countered. He held out his muscular arm. “Would a guy tatted like me get into an Ivy League school?”

“How would I know?” Waverly shrugged. “Maybe as a graduation treat, you’d got yourself a few tattoos.”

“I promise you, I had tattoos before I started college.”

Waverly didn’t know why this was an issue. Dominic stood up, reaching for his phone in his back pocket. “Don’t try to show me some Photoshopped version of yourself.”

“What do you know about Photoshopping?” he asked.

A little too much these days, Waverly thought to herself.

“I say we make a wager of this,” Dominic began. “If I can prove you wrong, you have to do something with me.”

Considering what they almost did, sure. Waverly grinned. “Deal.”

“Don’t go back on a promise, now.”

Waverly rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Man, if you don’t show me this picture...”

Playfully Dominic held the phone in the air and out of her reach. Now would be the great time for her to come up with her part in the wager when Dominic failed to provide the photograph. Wasn’t he the prize, though? Waverly licked her lips in anticipation.

“Bam,” Dominic said after his thumb stopped scrolling across the screen. He shoved the phone close to her face.

Waverly took a step backward to adjust what she saw. There, surrounded by a set of twin preteen boys flexing their nonexistent muscles and a young girl, draped in an oversize green graduation gown, was a young Dominic. His hair was cut in a high top fade, too high for his graduation cap, which he held in one hand. He wore a pair of jeans with holes at the knees and a muscle shirt. Dark tattoos covered his biceps. Considering how buff he was now compared to then, Waverly had to concede.

“This is your high school graduation. How old do you have to be to get a tattoo?”

“Sixteen with your parents’ approval. My mom came with me,” Dominic said. “Ever been around someone with tattoos?”

Waverly sighed. “My first serious boyfriend had them. But since he was older, I assumed.”

“Okay,” Dominic said, blowing out a sigh in the universal manner of changing the subject. “I’ve proven you wrong and now it’s time to pay up.”

Excitement flashed within her. A date? The movies? “Sure,” Waverly replied in an even-keeled tone.

Dominic extracted something from the back pocket of his jeans. A folded envelope.

“While I was gone, I got this thing. My sister thinks I need it to fit in with the community better.”

“What thing?”

“The Miss Southwood Pageant. Have you heard of it?”

Dread loomed over her. Waverly nodded. “I have.”

“Plan on entering?”

The combs of her tiara dug into her scalp as she shook her head. “No. I haven’t been in Southwood long enough to have a sponsor.”

“Well, that’s what I’m saying. I need a beauty queen, and you look like you’d be good at it. You even come with your own crown and everything.”

* * *

Tuesday morning Dominic woke with a slight hangover, but given what he accomplished last night, he didn’t care. He secured himself a beauty queen and managed to pass himself off as a gentleman by not ripping off Waverly’s clothes and carrying her to the bedroom. She was so damn irresistible when she tried to back out of the pageant. He saved himself from eating Alisha’s idea of a pizza and still got back to his sister’s condo in time to feed Hamilton his carrots seconds before Alisha stumbled through the front door at one in the morning. He was in such a good mood, he didn’t care if Alisha banged on the guest bedroom door where he slept every time he came over there. The chain dangling from the ceiling fan rattled with each pound of her fist.

“I know you’re up.” Alisha rattled the door. “You’re not snoring.”

Damn, with everything he completed before going to bed, Dominic forgot to lock the room. “I don’t...” Before he got the words out, Alisha poked her head inside. “Alisha, I could have been naked.”

“You better not be naked in my house.” Alisha stepped forward and cringed. “Gross.”

“What do you want?” Dominic pulled himself up onto his elbows. Hamilton oinked at Alisha’s feet. Today he wore a rainbow tutu.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked.

“No.” Did she figure out he didn’t eat her pizza or was barely over here last night?

“Are you sure?”

“Just tell me what’s going on, Alisha,” Dominic growled. Hamilton, protective of his mother, oinked at him. Would it be wrong of him to eat a slice of bacon in front of the pig?

Alisha crossed her arms and kicked the edge of the bed. “You have a visitor.”

“Waverly?”

“Who?” Alisha’s upper lip curled. “Jesus, you’re back one day and you’ve got women coming out of the woodwork for you. This one is married, though.”

“Lexi,” Dominic said with a nod.

“Why is the pageant producer in my living room with a butt load of dresses? Have you decided you’re going to change up your wardrobe?” Alisha rambled on while Dominic grabbed his jeans he’d hung over the chair last night and went into the bathroom to change. She was still rattling on about dresses, so like any good big brother, Dominic patted her on the head and headed out of the bedroom and down the hall to greet Lexi Pendergrass Reyes.

Racks of ball gowns filled the living room, covering the messy pigsty Alisha lived in. The front door opened and closed while two men dressed in white smocks rolled in more racks of clothing. Hamilton’s feet scrambled down the hall and out the door. Alisha quickly followed but not before shooting an angry glare at her brother. Somewhere in the mix, Lexi’s blond head bobbed around. He heard her voice and another woman’s as well, but couldn’t see who the second person was.

“Good morning?” Dominic said to announce his presence. Lights spilled in from the opened curtains. The doors to the balcony were closed but the clear skies were welcome.

“Dominic,” Lexi exclaimed.

Dominic made his way through a row of dresses in every shade of yellow. “What’s all this?”

“These—” Lexi waved her arm over the racks “—are all dresses in Waverly’s size that are not mine.”

Everyone in town, male or female, understood the place to buy a dress was at Grits and Glam Gowns. For Alisha, the boutique was one of the bonuses of agreeing to move to Southwood. Lexi made one-of-a-kind dresses for proms, weddings and, most famously, pageants.

“Why wouldn’t she get any of your dresses?”

“Conflict of interest,” Lexi’s assistant answered.

“Sorry, let me make the introductions,” said Lexi. “Dominic, this is Kenzie Swayne. She’s my right-hand woman for the pageant.”

Kenzie, all of five-three, stepped forward and extended her hand for a firm shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Crowne. I’ve been meaning to stop by your garage. You realize it was once the city jail?”

“I did not,” said Dominic. He flexed his hand to revive the circulation. “You’ll have to tell me about it.”

“Just not today,” said Lexi. “I have a limited amount of time.”

Dominic glanced down at Lexi’s protruding pregnant belly. “How far along are you?”

“Seven months,” Lexi said with a shake of her blond head. “But that’s not why there’s no time. I’ve got to turn the reins over to Kenzie.”

“Because of Waverly?”

“Exactly,” Lexi and Kenzie chorused.

Scratching the back of his head, Dominic sighed. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for you to leave your duties as the pageant director, Lexi. I don’t understand what the big deal is.” He stood uncomfortably as Kenzie gave him a blank stare. After a half second or more, she blinked in disbelief. “What’d I say?” he asked.

Lexi pushed Kenzie playfully on the shoulder. “Kenzie is just in shock to find someone who clearly doesn’t know about Waverly Leverve.”

Leverve—that’s right. She did tell him her last name. Hell, it didn’t matter. Like he told Waverly last night, her last name would change soon enough. Dominic squared his shoulders, not sure how to take Kenzie’s question. “I know her now.”

“Then you know she was stripped of her crown a few weeks ago?” Kenzie asked.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Lexi countered. “It wouldn’t be ethical for me to stay on board if Waverly is going to enter my contest. Rumors would spread that I fixed it due to our closeness. I used to coach her, you see.”

“Like Little League?”

Kenzie scoffed. Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve seriously never heard of Waverly? The dethroning, the memes?”

“Oh my God, the memes,” Lexi reiterated with a shake of her head. “They’re getting worse,” she said to Kenzie, who nodded.

Maybe that’s what Waverly tried to show him last night. Dominic held his hand up. “Look, I’ve worked on cars my whole life. I can take one look at a piece of metal that’s been through the wringer and recreate it as a beautiful piece of art. I don’t need to see where Waverly came from. I know what I see now. I don’t need any memes.”

“Are you comparing Waverly to a hunk of junk?” Kenzie asked.

“Not at all.” Dominic chuckled. She was beyond just beautiful. She was captivating and breathtaking. “Whatever happened in her past, I will restore justice.”

Lexi offered Dominic a sweet smile, almost motherly. “And for that, I can’t be any more grateful, which is why I need to step down, to make sure no one can question Waverly’s victorious return to the crown.”

While the three of them agreed their main focus was on Waverly, Alisha stood in her doorway, Hamilton in her arms. “Wait, am I to understand you’re doing this for someone other than Tiffani?”

“This is for Waverly,” Dominic said.

“Who the hell is Waverly?” Alisha asked. Anger filled her cheeks with a red tint. He knew he was in for a cursing out. Dominic glanced up at the dark oak ceiling to avoid her wrath.

“I am.”

Alisha turned. Lexi and Kenzie squealed. Without thinking, Dominic’s hand clutched his heart when he saw her standing behind Alisha. She wore her hair in a ball at the top of her head, no makeup and a tan turtleneck paired with what looked like a pair of denim overalls. Waverly glared at him with her dark eyes. If looks could kill...

“I’ve seen you around,” Alisha said. “I didn’t realize you and my brother were friends.”

Waverly blinked and glanced at everyone in the living room. “Apparently your brother has a lot of friends these days. Lexi? Kenzie? What’s going on in here?”

“Surprise!” Lexi cheered, followed by Kenzie pumping her fist in the air.

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