by Atlas, Lilly
Ahh, down to business. Holly took a deep breath and forged ahead with the speech she’d practiced in front of the mirror no less than fifteen times over the past few days.
“I graduated pastry school about six months ago. At the time, I was renting a room in a sizable home with a pretty big kitchen. I used the space to begin a small online bakery. Mostly cupcake orders, some wedding cakes, pastries for small to medium-sized events. Those kinds of things. Now that I’m here, I’m in a tiny apartment with a bite-sized kitchen. I also happen to have a humungous dog, and it’s not like I can keep him separate from the baking area of the apartment. My ultimate goal is to have a storefront bakery, but I just don’t have the start-up capital for that right now. So, what many online bakers do is rent kitchen space from restaurants, churches, schools, those kinds of places. Someone”—must not think about LJ—“gave me Toni’s contact information and told me the diner closes around two in the afternoon.”
Jazmine remained quiet, though engaged if her occasional nodding and hums of agreement were any indication. When Holly finally paused to take a breath and mentally berate herself for rambling off script, Jazz spoke up. “That’s right. We close for business at two and are usually cleaned and locked up tight by three. You’re looking to rent kitchen time in the evenings?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Time to prepare and fill my orders, and if it’s at all possible, a small amount of refrigerator space to store the finished products. We’re not talking thousands of orders here, I haven’t even started yet.”
“Well, it sounds like a great idea to me,” Jazz said with a shrug as though Holly renting the space was a foregone conclusion. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to the important stuff.” She rubbed her palms together, her long slender fingers revealing multiple silver rings. “Whatcha got in that box?”
Holly blinked. “Uh, so…I mean…is that…um, I mean will you talk to Toni?”
With another wave of her hand, Jazz opened the box and inhaled. “No, she gave me full authority to decide, and I’m all for it. Why not? The space isn’t in use at that time, it’d be ridiculous to turn you down. Oh, mamma, this smells so good.”
Could it really be that easy? Jazz sure seemed to think so. She lifted her head and winked at Holly. “Tell me what all this yumminess is.”
A huge smile broke out across Holly’s face as waves and waves of tension dissipated from her body. She’d done it. She’d gotten the kitchen space to start up her business which meant she could start saving money for her storefront. Progress toward her dreams. If she’d been alone, she would have squealed and done a happy dance, but she managed to keep her ass in the seat.
“Um, okay, I have an assortment of goodies, some for breakfast and some dessert. Let’s start with the a.m. stuff, shall we?”
“You hand it over, I’ll eat it, but I want this one first,” Jazz said, pointing to a cinnamon roll slathered in a generous dollop of cream cheese glaze.
“Okay, I’ll just tell you what they all are. The one you’re salivating over is a cinnamon roll.” Holly pointed to another pastry. “That’s an apple turnover, then a scone, a classic brownie, a white chocolate cupcake with Bailey’s frosting, a slice of peach pie, and a piece of cream cheese pound cake.”
Jazz just stared at her.
“What?” Holly said as nerves ran up and down her spine once again.
“Are you for real?”
Holly chuckled. “Maybe you should taste something before you ask me that. It could all be gross.”
With a snort, Jazz picked up the cinnamon roll. “Somehow I doubt that,” she said before opening her mouth wider than Holly would ever have guessed it could go and taking a gigantic bite of the gooey treat. “Oh. My. God,” she said, mouth full as her eyes literally rolled upward. “You have got to be kidding me right now.”
In an impressive feat of sugar tolerance, Jazz sampled each and every baked good, not hiding her enjoyment or praise one bit. The two talked between bites until they were laughing and working on their second cups of coffee.
“Holy shit, I just had the best freakin’ idea ever.” Jazz said in a near-shout as her spine straightened. She practically bounced in her seat. “Ready for this?”
The sudden jolt of animation from Jazz had Holly laughing. “I’m not sure…”
Jazz laughed right along with her. “I’d apologize, but this idea is too good not to be this excited. Our lead chef, Ernesto, does some baking. Biscuits, simple rolls, a few types of pie. He flat out hates it, and, I’ll be honest, they are far from the strongest items on our menu.”
“Okay…” Where was she going with this?
“What if, instead of charging you a rental fee, you paid for the space in baked goods?” Jazz’s eyes shone with delight over her idea, which warmed Holly’s insides. The offer wasn’t made out of pity or some kind of obligation. It was a genuine enjoyment of Holly’s food that had Jazz wanting to sell her baked goods in the restaurant.
Before Holly had a chance to respond to the request, Jazz plowed on. “Breakfast items would sell like crazy in here. So would cakes, pies, and pastries. We can move it all.” Her nose wrinkled, drawing a snort and chuckle from Holly. “What do you think? You, Toni, and I can sit down and determine an agreed-upon amount of baked good for you to provide in exchange for the rental space. If we end up requiring more, we’ll pay you.”
So much had happened in the last five minutes, Holly’s head spun. She needed a few minutes to process since, though Jazz’s offer was incredible, it did throw a wrench in Holly’s plans. She’d be increasing her budget for supplies and spending time on the diner’s orders. But she wouldn’t have a rent payment. And there was the free promotion. Having her items on the diner’s menu daily would be an enormous marketing boost that wouldn’t cost her a dollar beyond what they determined was fair compensation for use of the space.
“I think it sounds like an absolutely amazing idea!”
“Yes!” Jazz clapped her hands, and she did bounce in her seat.
What the hell. Holly let out a small squeal and bounced right along with Jazz.
“Hey, you said you’re new in town, right?”
Holly reached in the box and snagged a hunk of the scone. “Yeah, only been here about ten days, but my parents live here too. They moved about three weeks ago,” she said right before popping the delicious pumpkin spice concoction in her mouth. Damn, that paired so well with Jazz’s strong coffee.
“You got any plans for tonight?” Jazz asked, mouth slightly stuffed with a giant bite of cinnamon roll. “I’m not even sorry I’m talking with my mouth full. This is just too damn good to care.”
Well, shit, what chef didn’t love a compliment like that? “Nope, no plans. I’m officially a friendless loser.”
“You have plans now.” She rattled off her phone number. “Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up tonight at nine. We’ll go out. Dance a little. Drink a little. You can meet my crew. It’ll be fun. Whatdaya say?”
As Holly pulled out her phone to enter Jazz’s number, she noticed a slew of missed text messages and calls from her mother. Fourteen texts and three calls in all. She’d silenced her phone for this meeting, and immediately her mind went to the worst-case scenario. With her heart pounding out a rhythm of dread, she opened the text app. “Jesus,” she muttered. The first text was a good morning note, asking Holly what she was up to today. From there, each grew more frantic as Holly hadn’t answered until the final, and fourteenth said her mother was going to have her father send some officers to her apartment.
This was getting out of control
“You okay?” Jazz asked.
“Yes, sorry. Family drama. But, I say that sounds like a great plan for tonight. I sent my address.” And it did sound like a fun night out. Holly desperately needed to get out and make some new girlfriends. Otherwise, she was doomed to spend every weekend being fixed up by her father. A shudder ran through her. No, thank you. One of those dates was plenty
.
“Great! Just wear something you’d wear to any bar.” Jazz said as the jangle of bells indicted the door was opening. “Staff’s starting to arrive, so I need to get moving. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See ya.” After leaving the diner, Holly immediately placed a call to her mother.
“Holly, finally!” her mom said by way of greeting, tears evident in her voice. “I’ve been beside myself. Your father has a patrol car swinging by your apartment now. Are you okay? Do you need help?”
Holly pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned against her car. “I’m fine mom. I was just busy and couldn’t answer the phone.”
“Well, Holly, that can’t happen again. You always have your cell phone on you, so I don’t see why you can’t just answer when I call or text.”
Staring up at the early morning sky, Holly blew out a breath. This had to stop. Her mother’s need to know where she was at all times had only grown worse with each passing year. It’d almost reached the point of pathologic.
“Mom, I’m an adult, and even though I carry a phone with me, there are going to be times I’m unable to answer it. You know this. Everyone knows this.”
“Well, I—”
“Look, mom, I don’t have time to get into this right now. I’m fine and have a packed day and plans tonight, so you probably won’t hear from me again until tomorrow, maybe even Monday, okay?”
“What? No, please let me know when you get home tonight, so I can sleep.”
Holly hung her head, the word no at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. She’d had to learn to live with the guilt of failing her sister, but couldn’t handle knowing she was the reason her parents suffered at night. They’d been through enough. “I’ll text, but that’s it. I gotta go.” After hanging up, she shook her head at her weakness. How many twenty-four-year olds who lived alone still needed to let their parents know when they arrived home?
She spent the afternoon hours working on a few ideas for breakfast pastries she had a feeling would be fantastic for the diner’s menu. At least it seemed as though they would complement the menu items she’d found on the diner’s website.
By seven, she was covered in flour, egg goo, and sugar. A good scrubbing took care of the mess both to her and her kitchen, then she spent the next ninety minutes fretting over what to wear and working on her hair and face. Most of the time, since she baked for a living, she spent the day in yoga pants and makeup-less. Since this was the first time she’d actually had plans—not made by her father—in an embarrassing amount of weeks, she went a little heavier on the makeup and considerably lower-cut on the clothing than she might have, had she actually had an active social life.
At five minutes to nine, she jogged down the steps to wait for Jazz.
“Damn, girl, you clean up nice!!” Jazz yelled from the window of a Dodge Camaro as she pulled into the parking lot. “With a rack like that, you’re gonna be beating them off with a stick tonight.”
Holly giggled as she ran to the passenger side door. “Thanks for coming to get me. Is this all right?” she asked, indicating the black skinny jeans and charcoal gray tank with a plunging V-neck.
“Uh, yeah, you look hot, sister.” Jazz also had jeans on, a dark wash, with a long-sleeved purple top that didn’t show so much as a hint of skin. “All right let’s do this. I’m excited to introduce you to my girls. Toni will be there so you can finally meet her.”
“Great.” They chatted for the fifteen-minute drive until Jazz cut a hard left and got in a line of vehicles waiting to enter through a fifteen-foot security gate.
What the…
Two men stood on either side of the open gate, peeking into the windows of each car that passed, though it was mostly motorcycles making their way into what appeared to be a compound of some sort.
Oh, shit.
Mostly motorcycles…
Holly glanced at the men guarding the gate. They had cuts identical to the one worn by LJ.
Her blood ran cold, and she fought the urgent need to vomit.
Jazz had brought her to the Hell’s Handlers clubhouse.
CHAPTER NINE
LJ TOSSED HIS fourth shot of tequila down his gullet and fought the need to shove the overeager Handlers’ Honey off his arm. A horny club girl ready to rock and roll. He should be all over that shit. Meant he wouldn’t have to search for someone to fuck that evening. And fucking someone random was precisely what he needed to get his mind off the forbidden fruit fucking with his head.
Too bad his dick had no interest in the painted-up stick figure with fake tits clinging to him. The girl probably ate nothing more than a lettuce leaf and a can of tuna on a good day. Who the hell wanted to fuck a bag of bones?
“You gonna let me find out firsthand if the rumor is true?” the Honey whispered in his ear, making sure to brush her sticky lips against the shell of his ear. What the hell was her name? Cindy? Cami? Carli, maybe? All LJ remembered was the drama she’d caused by becoming overly interested in Maverick. She’d tried to fuck things up for him and his ol’ lady, and nearly got herself booted from the club. In fact, she’d taken her rejected ass and sulked somewhere for more than half a year. Guess she’d returned for more biker dick.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not nice to gossip?” LJ said as he lifted his hand to Thunder, who was working the bar. After four shots of tequila in twenty minutes, his head was growing pleasantly fuzzy. Maybe with another three or four, he’d be too far gone to give a shit who he fucked, and he could take Carli up on her offer.
Yeah, he’d decided her name was Carli.
“Pretty sure every man wants us girls gossiping about how he has a ten-inch dick.”
He grunted.
“And I’ve heard it’s ten inches soft,” she purred, pressing her firm tits into his arm. Too bad another set of tits had been dominating his thoughts for days, so much so Carli’s barely registered.
“Shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Okay, so he had a big dick. It wasn’t a secret. Not since he’d fucked a mouthy girl from town over a year ago. The short-lived fling ended when he found out she’d snuck into his room at the clubhouse, taken a dick pic while he was sleeping, and sent it to her girlfriends. Next thing he knew, all the goddamn Honeys in the club were running on about his huge dick and how they couldn’t wait until he patched in so they could have a run at it.
Not happening.
Sure, he needed to get his rocks off as often as any of his brothers, but he just had no interest in fucking some chick half his brothers’ dicks had spent time in. Call him weird, but it just wasn’t his thing.
“How about you take me upstairs and show me, so I don’t have to rely on rumors?” Carli practically purred into his ear.
“Sorry, sweetheart, not tonight.” He accepted the shot from Thunder, fist-bumped the blond prospect, then downed it as fast as he’d housed the others. Unfortunately, Carli didn’t take the hint. Instead of leaving him the fuck alone, she wrapped her arms around his bicep and hung on.
“Jazzy!” came a high-pitched squeal from somewhere across the crowded clubhouse. Sounded like a very drunk Stephanie. “’Bout time you got here, bitch!” Oh yeah, Steph was toasted.
LJ chuckled as his gaze sought out the woman who’d been an honorary member of the ol’ ladies club for the past year or so. Ever since she began working for Zach’s woman, Toni, Jazz had been a constant presence around the club. Far as LJ knew, she had no interest in becoming an ol’ lady, no need to be a Honey, and hadn’t fucked a single one of his brothers. Rare for a woman so frequently around the club members. She was a bit of a mystery, one his brother, Screw, seemed to have taken particular interest in.
After a few seconds, his gaze found her where she was weaving her way through the bodies to get to her girls. She turned, holding out her slender hand for a woman behind her, and the pair wormed through the rowdy bikers as one unit.
This was the first time since LJ met Jazz that she’d brought a friend to
a party. As far as he knew, she had no contact with the people in Arizona, where she’d last been living, and didn’t socialize much outside the club.
Curious as to who Jazz’s friend was, LJ shifted his attention from the puzzling woman to the one trailing behind her.
The moment his gaze landed on that sleek waterfall of honey-blonde hair, his throat closed, and his brain shut the fuck down.
Holly was in his goddammed clubhouse. Jeans so tight they’d be a struggle to remove cupped her ass. Those plump globes twitched with each step. No surprise, his dick perked to life, throbbing to the beat of her fucking walk.
After turning him down flat because he was a biker and she was too fucking special to touch a biker—at least according to her daddy—she had the audacity to show up here, cleavage on display and in those goddamned boner-inducing jeans.
Un-fucking-real.
He kept his gaze on her as she and Jazz made their way to the cluster of ol’ ladies. Jesus, how the hell did she even know Jazz? She was stiff as a board, walking woodenly with her eyes darting in every direction.
Looking for him? Or scanning every corner for an impending attack?
“She can join us. I don’t mind.” Carli’s voice reminded him of her presence, or more the fact that she didn’t leave after he’d dismissed her.
“Not interested, Carli. Already said that. Move on.”
“That giant bulge you’re sportin’ says different.” Some might find the near-whine in her voice sexy, but to him, it was nails on a chalkboard.
He grunted. “That ain’t for you.”
Jazz and Holly reached the ol’ ladies, and Jazz must have been introducing Holly around by the way she waved and nodded at each woman.
Still impersonating a boa constrictor, Carli pouted but didn’t say anything else. He’d give her no more than two minutes before he removed her from his presence himself.