Lucky Mix Up Read online

  Lucky Mix Up

  Lark Avery

  Copyright © 2019 by Lark Avery

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designs by Talina Perkins

  Bookin’ It Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Scarlet

  2. Braden

  3. Scarlet

  4. Braden

  5. Scarlet

  6. Braden

  7. Scarlet

  Epilogue: Braden

  Sneak Peek: Lucky Hook Up

  Meet Lark

  Also by Lark Avery

  1

  Scarlet

  When I sold more cookies than all the other kids in my third-grade class and won the coveted Smart Cookie Award, I knew I was destined for an extraordinary life. Though at that point in time, I probably didn’t imagine that life would involve the current scenario—me lugging a ginormous suitcase stuffed with sex toys around Las Vegas.

  To be honest, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. Scandalous Adult Fun for Everyone (SAFE) Toys was the family business and a profitable one at that. When my father suffered a stroke shortly after I graduated high school, I stepped in to help run things. We thought I’d be there through the summer while he got back on his feet and in the fall I’d be headed to college and the start of my extraordinary life.

  But that wasn’t in the cards for me. My father took a turn for the worse, and he passed away before the end of the summer. With no other family left to pick up the reins, keeping my dad’s business afloat fell on my shoulders.

  Now over two years later, instead of getting my degree, here I was in Vegas scouting locations for SAFE’s first brick and mortar store and stopping in to share some of the new items in my inventory with potential vendors.

  While I was in town, I was staying at the upscale Evermore Hotel. The last thing I wanted was to deal with bachelorette parties and strippers after a day running around in heels under the relentless Nevada sun. The Evermore didn’t cater to that crowd. Today I felt like I’d seen every nook and cranny of all the good and the seedy the Vegas strip had to offer, so I was looking forward to my quiet room, a long bath, and sliding between the crisp white sheets of my bed.

  The cab pulled up at the Evermore, and as I waited for the cabbie to retrieve my bag, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hotel’s giant windows. I was pleased I didn’t look too wilted. I wore a black suit with a pencil skirt that ended above my knee and was only slightly wrinkled. I’d removed my suit jacket after my last meeting. My sleeveless silk vee neck tank was pretty sheer without the suit jacket. I’d gone braless, but in a city obsessed with fake tits, I was sure mine weren’t worth the squint it would take to catch a glimpse. Besides, Vegas in March was sweltering and I was off the clock.

  I tipped my driver and rolled my monster bag behind me. Seriously, the thing weighed a ton with so much battery-operated equipment inside. I paused just inside the Evermore’s revolving door as the chill blast of air conditioning hit me. I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the hushed quiet and the aroma of tropical flowers that filled the lobby. Utter bliss. I let my eyes stay closed to savor the peace for a few extra seconds.

  But I was jolted out of my Zen as someone shoved me hard from behind. I flew forward. My arms wind-milled, but in my spike-heeled Jimmy Choos, there was no hope I’d stay on my feet.

  “Fuck me!” The words tore out of me into the elegant lobby as I hurtled toward the floor at the same time my suitcase toppled over and popped open like a piñata, spilling its goodies for all to see.

  Just before my face hit the highly-polished tile floor—a detail I got to see way too up close and personal—strong arms jerked me up and back against a hard body. I couldn’t see my savior, but the band of steel around my waist and the scent of aftershave and leather filling my head made an immediate impression. I sagged back into his body, and the steel band tightened around me. He chuckled at my body’s reaction, and the sound reverberated through me with a pleasing warmth. A much softer “fuck me” escaped my lips.

  Gratitude and mortification warred inside me as I slowly turned in the stranger’s arms to find myself looking at his chest. I was wearing five-inch heels, and I didn’t even make it to this guy’s shoulder. And here I always assumed giants only existed in fairytales.

  I tilted my head up, up, up to meet brown eyes scowling down into mine. His dark hair curled at the edges but was neatly trimmed. He wore a black polo shirt and pants, but contrary to popular belief, black didn’t minimize anything on this man. If anything, it accentuated his muscular arms and broad chest. I fought the urge to check my chin for drool.

  “Are you all right?” The firm set of his lips made it appear the question came more from good manners than real concern. Tall, dark, and handsome seemed as happy about catching me as I was about the need to be caught. But unlike him, I didn’t have any complaints about being held in this man’s strong arms.

  He was sexy as sin, all brooding eyes, and chiseled jaw. All I could do was stare up at him mesmerized as my suddenly dry mouth tried to form the words—dear God, any words!—to respond to his question without sounding like a total ninny.

  Despite selling sex toys, I was appallingly awful at real-life interactions. I blamed it on my education at an all-girls Catholic school. My classmates may have found their faith, but I discovered something else. I inherited Dad’s business skills, and my education at St. Mary Bridget’s Catholic School for Girls only strengthened them. I got to hone my talents selling raffle tickets and sweet-talking people into donating items for church auctions. And okay, I might have had a sweet little side gig selling condoms to my classmates. But nowhere in my Catholic school education did the nuns cover how to talk to a hot guy. So while my business might be thriving, my love life was a whole different story.

  “I-I-I’m fine. Thanks, ” I finally managed to stutter out. I blinked up at him, dazed by his proximity. He was big. I’d always been a sucker for a well-built guy, but this man gave “well-built” a whole new meaning. I should’ve pointed out that he could let me go now, but I pressed my lips together, not ready to give up being held by this man even a moment before I absolutely had to.

  His hands stayed at my waist. His gaze traveled down my body, and I was wildly aware of every time his eyes lingered on one of my features. My face heated when he got to my nipples and seemed in no hurry to move on. A quick glance told me I’d been right about my top. The sheer fabric outlined every curve. And I’d love to blame the air conditioning for the tight buds my nipples had become, but who was I kidding? That wasn’t the reason I was so aroused. It was all him.

  “You really should watch where you’re going.” His voice was deep and gravelly. It was like a caress over my entire body and only served to make me more aware of him. All I could think of was the slightly rough surface of a cat’s tongue licking my skin, but instead of Fluffy, it was him.

  But then his words registered and a totally different kind of heat flared through me.

  “You ran into me!” He might be hot as fuck, and I might be shy, but that didn’t mean I was a doormat he could walk all over, literally or figuratively. Suddenly, his arms held a tiny bit less appeal, and I pulled away. I folded my arms across my chest, hiding the evidence that his nearness had any effect on me.

  “You were standing in the doorway.” He frowned before scooping down to pick up his cell phone from the floor. “Unfortunately I didn’t see those sexy legs and great ass until they were mid-air.”

  “You weren’t watching wh
ere you were going because you were on your phone,” I replied tartly. Wait, did he really just compliment my ass?

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. And I totally did not think that was super sexy. Nope. Not at all. Yeah, even I wasn’t buying that one.

  “Pardon me, would you like help picking up your…um…belongings?” A bellboy with flushed cheeks appeared at my elbow.

  I followed his gaze to my suitcase. Admittedly, I’d overpacked it, but with its contents now strewn all over the marble floor of the Evermore, it seemed like more sex toys than could fit in any six suitcases. Dildos, whips, nipple clamps, fuzzy handcuffs, paddles, and anal beads littered the floor of the most elegant hotel in Las Vegas. And if I thought the place was quiet before, all I heard now was the soft whoosh of the big fans above circulating the air. I was terrified to look around for fear of meeting anyone’s eyes.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  The bellboy apparently had the same fear. He kept his gaze pinned to the floor.

  “These aren’t mine.” I scrambled down to the floor, throwing everything in reach back into the suitcase. Being on my hands and knees with my tight skirt, it wasn’t an easy job. My ass was totally in the air for the entire hotel lobby to see.

  And Damn! All my merch had traveled farther than I would have thought possible. Not like I’d ever had a reason to contemplate the buoyancy of latex before right this very second.

  “I don’t usually hand a woman a flogger without knowing her name.” He offered it to me and tossed a butt plug into my suitcase. “I’m Braden. And you’re…?”

  “Dying from embarrassment and oddly grateful I didn’t pack the strap-ons this trip.” God, did I just say that out loud? I heaped a handful of flavored condoms onto the pile and wondered if maybe I actually did fall and slam my head on the marble floor. Maybe this was all a hallucination brought on by a concussion. Next, I’d be standing naked in front of my ninth grade math class and Sister Mary Elizabeth.

  But one look up from under my lashes to see his dark eyes now dancing with mirth convinced me this was all too real and waiting for me to share my name. “I’m Scarlet.”

  But as I glanced at him, I realized his attention had moved from my face to the hemline of my skirt. Or more accurately, past the hemline of my skirt and onto whatever I was flashing him from my current less than dignified position.

  My face flamed as I furiously tried to remember if I was wearing granny panties today. I seriously hoped not.

  “If all this doesn’t belong to you, the owner must be a very good friend of yours,” Braden mused.

  “It’s mine. But it’s for work,” I muttered, dropping the last cockring into the pile. “Now I need to get it closed.”

  “I know what you need.” Braden stood up and unbuckled his belt. The snap of leather as it passed through each loop reverberated through my body. The combination of his words, the belt, and the sound the belt made was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. And my suddenly soaked panties were proof.

  I stared up at him, feeling my throat go dry. At least one part of me wasn’t wet.

  Images of this man spanking me flashed through my mind. And in the movie in my head, I liked it. A lot. I’d never had a spanking. The worst the nuns ever gave out was a crack on the knuckles with a ruler. But with him, I had a sudden willingness to put myself at his mercy and give it a try. Not that he was offering to spank me in the middle of the hotel lobby. Was he?

  God, why was I such a dope when it came to this stuff? But I knew the reason. I had a serious handicap. My deepest darkest secret. I was a virgin.

  The problem with my current V status—beyond the impressive rate that I ran through vibrators and the obvious issue of not having sex with a real live male—was that it made me much less confident with my current job.

  I mean, it’s not impossible to sell sex toys as a virgin. I’d done a solid job of that based on our last quarter numbers. But it felt a bit dishonest. And besides, at this point, I’d call what I felt way more than professional curiosity. I was more than ready to experience an honest-to-goodness, hard, flesh-and-blood cock pounding my pussy. It had gotten to the point where I was ready to give it away like a free gift with purchase—buy two sex toys, get one virgin to do with as you like.

  Not to mention, I was afraid of word getting out that I was a virgin. I mean, I’d have to tell a potential sex partner I was a virgin beforehand, right? But considering my limited circle, if the guy I chose shared around about my virgin status, my clients might find out and question the wisdom of purchasing sex toys from someone with so little experience. It was a vicious circle. A vicious, utterly unsatisfying circle.

  “Here you go.” Braden’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and brought my attention back to him. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed when I realized he had no plans to spank me, but instead wrapped his belt around my suitcase, fastening it closed. Not a single sex toy was visible. I felt the entire Evermore lobby sigh with relief.

  “After all the trouble I caused you, it seems the least I can do is buy you a drink.” He held out his hand to help me off my hands and knees.

  At his touch, it was like sparklers ignited inside me. His large hand was warm and engulfed my much smaller one as he helped me up. I looked at our entwined hands, and my heartbeat picked up speed. I had a momentary flash that I’d willingly follow him anywhere he wanted to lead me. But a drink was a good start.

  “A drink sounds good.” A drink could only help. I held in the snort that wanted to escape at that thought. There wasn’t enough alcohol in Vegas to make me less socially awkward in the best of circumstances. Add in the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life, and I figured my only hope was that one or both of us would drink enough to forget whatever uncomfortable small talk I managed to utter. He gestured for me to lead the way and I could feel his eyes on my ass. I may have put a bit more sway in my step for his benefit. After all, he was wheeling my suitcase.

  I took a better look at him when we were seated in the hotel bar. His golf shirt stretched to fit his broad shoulders. His shoes were high-quality leather. I always inspected a man’s footwear. If he bought cheap shoes, he wouldn’t pay for quality sex toys. Dad taught me that.

  The bar was deserted except for us. After we ordered our drinks, Braden said, “Tell me about yourself?”

  Thankfully, my vodka arrived quickly. I sipped it, considering him. “How about we start with you?”

  He shrugged, causing the material of his shirt to pull across his muscles. “I’m here scouting for a location for my next club.”

  “You’re from Boston, right?”

  He nodded. “Born and bred there.”

  My mind searched for something I could say to hold up my end of the conversation.

  “Where’d you go to school?” Ugh. Brilliant. Next, I’d be asking him his sign.

  “Undergrad at Harvard. NYU for my MBA. You?” He signaled the bartender for another scotch.

  I creamed my panties when I heard he went to Harvard. No joke. That was my dream school. My extraordinary life daydream often included me going to graduate school there.

  I was not going to mention my formal education started and ended at St. Mary’s.

  “School of Hard Knocks.” I gulped my drink. My eyes watered from the burn in my throat.

  Braden’s oh, so dark eyes intensified. It was like a fire lit behind them. It was like he could see right through me, figure out all my secrets with a glance—right down to the fact my panties had been wet since the instant his arms closed around me. I shivered. I liked being the subject of his intensity. For some reason I got the sense he saw past the awkwardness, and the big case of sex toys, to the real me.

  Sitting here with him, I thought about the evening I’d had planned for myself. Funny how what had sounded so appealing earlier—an evening consisting of a long bath before sliding into bed to watch home improvement shows while I ate a room service salad—suddenly sounded like the last thing in the world I wanted
to do.

  And with a flash, I knew that what I now wanted to happen tonight was shockingly different.

  “Scarlet Jones!” My drink sloshed over my glass when the booming male voice behind me made me start. “I’d recognize your bag of tricks anywhere.”

  Fuck. Ronald “Mick” Donald, the owner of the Boob, Lube, and Tube, was here. Mick’s BLT was our company’s business rival, and there was some history between Mick and my Dad which I was never clear on. Old grudges died hard though, and the BLT also wanted to expand into brick and mortar stores.

  “Hey, Mick.” I turned on the bar seat, not twisting completely to face him. Maybe if I didn’t give him an opening, he’d just go away.

  But no, I should know better than to hope for that kind of luck. Mick sat down on the other side of me at the bar. From the stench wafting from him, this wasn’t the first bar he’d hit up today. Mick always wore the same thing. Cheap ass plaid suits with shirts that stretched tight over his belly. He made it worse by trying to dye his hair an inky shade of black that never did much of the job of covering his gray roots. He was the sex toy industry’s version of a used car salesman. Definitely not someone I enjoyed spending time with. He gave my whole business a bad name.

  Mick waggled some seriously bushy eyebrows at me. “I hope I’m not interrupting some business. But if I know Scarlet, I am. I gotta say this for you, girl. You love your work.” His words themselves shouldn’t be offensive, but the way he said them made it sound like I spent my days on my knees giving blowjobs to customers as I tried to sell them my wares.

  I took another sip of my drink, wishing Mick would disappear into a puff of smoke. Where was a Las Vegas magician when you needed one? Braden had gone stock still and quiet. I suddenly felt small and tawdry sitting next to this gorgeous Harvard graduate. Never had I felt so out of place. And that was saying something considering I was a Catholic school virgin who sold sex toys for a living. Scratch the magician for Mick. I wished there was someone here who could make me disappear.