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“That, and Dylan’s been panicking about serving food to the Julien Thornton.”
I slapped Ace’s arm.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his bicep.
“You said you would keep that on the DL.”
“Logan and Tate are the down-low. I’m not going to tell Julien himself.”
I arched a brow at my husband, and when he reached out to smooth a finger over it, I batted his hand away. “Don’t try to use your charm on me, mister. Keep it for your new fan.”
The car drew to a stop and the door opened up. “Oh my God. This house is like something out of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.”
“He’s here,” Logan said, and he and Tate stepped aside to reveal three men looking up at the house towering above them.
Two of them I recognized immediately. Joel Priestley, the steely lawyer with the deep auburn hair whom Logan had sent to help us when my horrid (biological) mother had crawled out of the depths of hell to blackmail us. And Julien Thornton, the chef with the jade eyes who’d won Chef Master, becoming a household name the minute the camera landed on him.
Not hard to see why. The man was smokin’ hot. I mean, his cooking…his cooking was smokin’ hot.
So that meant the fresh-faced, starry-eyed man standing in the middle of them had to be Robbie.
“You three find the place okay?” Tate finally said. Priestley’s lips quirked, Julien’s curved, and Robbie’s split into a wide grin that practically lit up his face. It was fascinating, as though they were all in sync.
“Did we ever,” Robbie said as he hightailed it over to Logan and Tate. He was so wrapped up in his surroundings that he completely missed the two people in his immediate vicinity that he didn’t recognize. “This place is incredible.”
“That it is,” Logan said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Does it belong to someone famous? Do you think they do tours with brunch? I’d love to look around. Oh my God, Priest? I bet they have the best bathtub ever here.”
“I’m sure they do,” Priest said as he stepped up beside his husband—well, one of them. “Why don’t you ask them?”
“Huh?” Robbie frowned.
“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”
“Myself?” Robbie looked in the direction Priest indicated. “What do you mean ask them my—”
The second his eyes landed on the two of us, Robbie’s words came to an abrupt halt and his jaw all but hit the ground.
Yep, there it was, that one-two punch that could only be described as the Ace Locke Effect.
Eight
Robbie
OH. MY. GOD. That’s Ace Locke. The Ace Locke. As in The Last Guttersnipe, Original Bourbon, and, hello, Hard Throttle.
No. No. There was no way Priest and Julien would bring me to meet the Ace Locke without telling me. There was no way they wouldn’t prepare me for something so…so…monumental.
They knew how I was. That I’d want to wear my best clothes, have my hair styled perfectly, have my lips all glossy with my favorite brand of lip gloss, so when I stood in front of Ace smiling stupidly—like I’m definitely doing now—I knew that my lips looked totally kissable. Not that I planned to kiss him.
There was no way my husbands would do that to—
“Good morning, you must be Robbie.”
—me.
Holy shit. Ace Locke is standing right there. No. He’s actually coming closer. He’s…he’s talking to me. He even said my name…
“Princesse?” Julien said softly as he stepped up alongside me. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? Umm…if one counted the fact that I couldn’t seem to get any of the words in my head out of my mouth, okay, then sure, I was doing great. But I might’ve forgotten how to move my feet.
“Don’t mind him,” Priest said as he walked past me to shake Ace’s hand. “I think he’s a little bit starstruck. We didn’t tell him we were coming, so he’s finding out in real time.”
Ace flashed a megawatt grin my way, and I blinked several times. It was surreal, standing within touching distance of someone that was usually on your television or, you know, a fifty-three foot-IMAX screen.
“That’s no problem at all. Take all the time you need. We even have alcohol inside.”
Oh thank God.
“In the meantime, let me introduce my husband, Dylan.”
Uh, no introduction necessary. Any gay man worth his tiara knew Dylan Prescott. Not only did he manage to snag Hollywood’s hottest action hero, he was also the face and body of some of the sexiest ad campaigns out there.
From Calvin Klein to Giorgio Armani, the man had been plastered on billboards and gracing commercials from the moment his stunning face—and six-pack—had come into view.
“It’s so wonderful to see you again, Joel.” Dylan reached out and gave Priest a hug, and as I watched the scene from my hiding spot behind Julien’s shoulder, I noticed Priest’s expression soften. He really liked these two; he didn’t soften up for anyone.
