How Sweet It Is

by Wendy Vella

  “Associate?” Mr. Phillips asked.

  “Mr. Griffin has many businesses, and I help oversee them,” she lied smoothly.

  “Many businesses?” Mr. Phillips swallowed.

  “Absolutely. And let me assure you, not one of them has ever gotten anything but an impeccable hygiene and safety standard rating.”

  Buster crossed his arms and watched as Phillips shot him another look, this one less hostile than the last.

  “How about you take a seat over there?” She pointed to a chair that had just been vacated. “We’ll bring you some food and coffee, and then I’ll get that paperwork right out to you.”

  “Oh, well, I need to inspect the kitchen.”

  “Of course you do, but I can see you’re cold, so why not warm up first?” Willow said. “My guess is black and strong for coffee, and a chocolate caramel muffin?”

  The adoration in Phillips’ eyes nearly made Buster puke.

  “Exactly right, Ms. Harper. You are indeed a good judge of character.”

  “Strong men like strong coffee,” Buster heard her murmur as she led him to the table.

  “She’d good,” Connor said from his place at the coffee machine.

  Buster grunted something and headed back to his kitchen, and seconds later Willow stormed in.

  “Paperwork,” she snapped, holding out one hand. “Now.”

  “Second drawer to the left in the desk.”

  He watched her walk over, bend at the waist, then rifle through the sheaf of papers. The woman was hellishly sexy on any day, but riled up and dressed like that, she did something to him.

  “Thank you.”

  Ignoring his words, she straightened, dumped a pile of papers on the desk, and then started sorting through them until she found what she wanted.

  “You know what you’re looking for?”

  “Yes.”

  “Willow, we need to talk.”

  Ignoring him, she walked out with a handful of papers. Minutes later she was back again. “We have five minutes, ten tops before he comes out here.” She pulled off her jacket, threw it on his desk chair, and then started tidying. She was like a dervish, her hands going everywhere seemingly all at once.

  “You’re injured. Don’t lift anything heavier than a fork,” he ordered her. She didn’t answer, just kept moving.

  Buster grabbed a bucket of soapy water and cleaned his tables down, then took the broom from Willow and started sweeping. In minutes, they had the kitchen in some kind of order and looking clean.

  “Orders, Buster.” Connor handed him a few slips of paper, and left after shooting Willow a questioning look.

  “I’ll get him,” Willow said, then slipped her jacket back on and headed for the door.

  Buster intercepted her, snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her against his body. “Thank you, and don’t leave without talking to me.”

  “We’re even,” she said, giving him a cool look, and then turned away. He grabbed her chin and gently turned her to face him. “You rescued me, and I rescued you,” she told him. “Now let me go, Buster. We have nothing further to say to each other.”

  “Like hell,” he said. “I have plenty more to say, starting with, I’m sorry.” He kissed her then. She didn’t respond, just kept her lips clamped shut until he’d finished.

  “There is nothing between us, Mr. Griffin, and after I’ve shown Mr. Phillips around, I’ll give you the offer and leave Howling.”

  “You’re not driving out of here today. It’s too soon after the accident.”

  Ignoring him, she walked out of his kitchen. A minute later she returned with Mr. Phillips.

  Buster kept working and thinking while the man inspected everything with Willow on his heels, chirping away at him as if she had no worry greater than chipping a nail. He had to stop her from leaving.

  “Well, Mr. Griffin, I will be telling the complainant that your premises are being used for exactly what they should be,” Mr. Phillips said when he’d finished. “Thank you for your time.”

  “No, thank you,” Buster muttered with total insincerity, which earned him a glare from Willow.

  He watched her go, only letting her walk away from him because she’d said she was coming back to show him the offer. He’d get her to listen to him then, even if he had to sit on her.

  The thought of her straddling him naked the other night nearly made his eyes cross.

  After days of thinking about her and what had happened between them, he knew now that she was different from Jessica. He knew he should have given her a chance to explain about that call, but hell, when a man got burned like he had, trust was in short supply. Part of him was saying, Take the safe route, Buster. Let her go back to New York and you can settle back into life here. The other voice inside him screamed No! Talk to her, man. You know the time you’ve spent together has made you feel alive, and that night in Macy’s cabin was pure magic.

  She’d shown him in a million ways how different she was from Jessica, and even if he hadn’t already reached that conclusion, she’d demonstrated it today. She’d stepped in when he was about to punch Phillips, and then helped him clean his kitchen when he knew she had to be furious and hurting over the way he’d treated her.

  “You’re an idiot, Griffin, for doubting her.”

  When she didn’t reappear, he went to find her. “Where’s Willow?” he asked Connor.

  “She left. Told me to hand you this,” Connor said, passing him a white folder with the words Howe Realty written in red on the front.

  “Shit!” Buster pulled off his apron. “I need you to handle things from here, Connor. Can you, Suzy and Helen do that for me?”

  “Okay, sure.” Connor looked nervous. “But you’ll have your cell phone on you, right?”

  “Of course, and you’ve got this.” Buster pulled on his coat, then headed for the door.

  The cold air hit him along with the snow that had just started to fall. Looking up and down the street, he couldn’t see her car, and hoped she hadn’t left yet.

  “If you’re looking for Willow, Buster, she just headed for the carnival. Said she needed to say goodbye to someone.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Heath,” Buster raised his hand to the elderly gentleman who was heading into the pharmacy, then started running, hoping he didn’t slip on the ice.

  The streets were full of people, and he had to duck around them, but eventually he reached the first tent. This was where she would have gone. Willow might have said she didn’t collect people, and had fought against doing that here, but she’d put down roots in Howling, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge them.

  The place was alive with noise and color. The scents of cooking meat and other foods filled the air. Laden tables held fudge, jars of pickles, cheeses and so much more. People he knew wanted to say hi, but he wanted to find Willow. At the book club table he searched for Branna, who in turn pointed to the right, knowing who he was looking for. His temporary café was full, and his staff seemed to be holding their own, so, lifting a hand to acknowledge them, he moved on.

  He walked around people, and through conversations, and then standing on his toes he found Willow in front of a candy stall. Fudge of every variety was on display, but Willow wasn’t buying; she was having a discussion with a red-faced Millicent Lawrence. He got closer just as Macy arrived. They both overheard Willow’s words.

  “That was mean and cruel, Ms. Lawrence.”

  “You don’t get to talk to me that way, young lady. I don’t listen to you New Yorkers.”

  Buster watched Millicent try to walk around Willow, but Willow simply stepped into her path.

  “Buster is a good man who’s been spending his evenings making fudge for the schoolchildren to fundraise for their trip, Ms. Lawrence. I wonder if you’re as community minded as he is.”

  “He’s a bad one.”

  “No, he’s not a bad one, you are. Holding a grudge because he punched your son years ago—who incidentally was picking on Newman—is not
a good enough reason to try to shut down a man’s livelihood.”

  Buster saw a flash of guilt on Millie’s face.

  “He does so much for this town, and no one even realizes it!” Willow was yelling now, her fingers fanning. “Shame on you,” she added, then turned around and ran smack into Buster.

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he watched Millie Lawrence lower her eyes and walk away.

  “You need to keep that girl,” Macy mouthed before she too disappeared.

  “Don’t fight me,” he whispered in Willow’s ear as she struggled against him. “Please, Willow, I just want to talk to you.”

  “I’m leaving.” She looked up at him. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “No, you’re not, and it’s not.”

  He took her hand and started back through the crowd, towing her behind him. When they were outside the tent, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her.

  “Buster, let me go,” she said when he came up for air.

  “Never,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m keeping you.”

  “You think I’m like her, your ex.”

  “No, baby, I don’t, and I’m sorry I said what I did.” He kissed her again as people bumped into them, some laughing, others clapping. “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

  “I forgive you, but I still have to leave.”

  “I’m not letting you.” He tucked her under his arm and against his side. “Thank you for defending me to Militant Lawrence.”

  “She’s not a very nice person, Buster, and I try not to say mean things like that about people.”

  She was such a mix of personalities. The sweet innocence of her upbringing blended with the New York businesswoman.

  “Will you come home with me?” His words brushed the shell of her ear.

  “I don’t think I should, but…”

  He held his breath.

  “I want to so much.”

  He let the breath he’d been holding go. She wasn’t leaving…yet.

  Willow wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she sat beside Buster in the Jeep on the way to his house. Her heart was beating rapidly, her body felt tense, and inside there was a stampede of butterflies.

  “Your car is like a storage unit,” Willow said, pulling a cookbook from underneath her thighs.

  “I like to know where my things are.”

  Willow looked around the small space. Every inch of it held something.

  “This is it.”

  She looked at the house as he pulled into the driveway. It was big and sprawling, with beige clapboards and a stone front. It had a tidy front lawn with a tree she guessed would be full and leafy in the summertime, and a nice little fence that said it should be a family home. It was just the kind she’d wanted to come home to as a child.

  “Your house is nice.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “A bit,” Willow acknowledged as he pressed the garage door opener. “I imagined you in something smaller.”

  “It was my parents’. I brought it from them after a fight.”

  “Fight?” Willow looked around the garage after she’d gotten out of the Jeep. She saw a jet ski, fishing gear, and other man-cave things.

  “They said it was my inheritance,” he said, motioning for her to go inside. “They didn’t want me to pay for it. I said bullshit because they needed the money to travel, so we came to an agreement.”

  The interior was beautiful, with vaulted ceilings and plank floors. The walls were painted a soft cream and the carpets were caramel. Everywhere she looked there was more clutter. Shoes, baking stuff, recipe books. It was like his car.

  “Buster, your place is a mess.”

  “I don’t have time to clean, so I stack neatly.”

  He stopped beside the stairs, his green eyes watching her as she looked around. She didn’t see the hand he reached out to catch her wrist.

  “You call this neatly?” Willow was suddenly nervous.

  “Your fingers are fanning, New York.”

  “What?”

  “Your fingers do this little fanning motion when you’re agitated or upset.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Yes,” he said, coming toward her. “They do.”

  “So, do you want to talk first or…” He let the words hang in the air between them.

  “Or?” She swallowed as he stopped before her.

  He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer.

  “Or this,” he whispered against her lips. “Because I’m so hard for you right now, I can’t think straight.”

  Willow jumped him…literally. Throwing herself at him, she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him. This could be all they had, or not; either way, she wanted him, and she wanted him now.

  He walked her backward, their lips still locked as he navigated piles of stuff and lowered her onto a table in his kitchen.

  “Kitchen?” she whispered against his lips.

  “This is where I imagined you.”

  Six words and she was hot as hell, not that she hadn’t already been from his kiss. But the thought of Buster imagining her anywhere was a turn-on.

  “You’re way too formal, Ms. Harper.” Buster’s hands got busy taking off her jacket and unbuttoning her shirt. The last two buttons got stuck, so he pulled and popped them off completely. Pushing her shirt from her shoulders, he stopped as his eyes studied the marks on her chest left over from the accident.

  “God, you scared me.” He kissed the bruise running around her neck and down her front from the seatbelt. “That drive up the hill with Cubby was the longest of my life.”

  “I’m sorry. What I did was foolish.”

  “You were running because I hurt you?”

  “It’s not your fault. I was just mixed up. It’s this place…and you, and what it all made me feel.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her breasts above the pink satin of her bra, his breath so close to an aching nipple that Willow moaned.

  “Talk later,” he rasped. “Now I want to lose myself in your beautiful body.”

  His teeth tugged the satin lower, then his tongue was on her nipple, making her fingers dig into his scalp. He kissed each breast thoroughly until she was breathing heavily. Only then did he lower the zipper on her pants and tug them off.

  She reached for his sweatshirt and hauled it over his head, and his shirt followed. Willow then touched his chest, mapping its contours with her fingers. She hadn’t seen him clearly the other night, but with help from the lights and the weak daylight coming in through the windows she could see perfectly now. He was a beautiful man. Thick bands of muscle lined his shoulders, and his chest was broad and lightly dusted with hair.

  “You have a pretty beautiful body too.” She leaned closer and kissed his shoulder, then licked her way to the other one, making him moan. While her mouth worked, her hands trailed down his stomach, following the line of hair that led into the jeans that sat low on his hips. She fumbled open the buttons, then slipped her hand lower and inside his boxers.

  “You’re so hot and hard,” she murmured.

  “For you,” he growled. “Only for you.”

  Willow stroked him, finding a rhythm with her hand fisted around him while her lips and tongue traced circles over his chest and licked his nipples until he couldn’t take any more.

  Grabbing her thighs, he pulled her to the edge of the table, then eased off her pants and panties. He ran his fingers up the inside of one thigh and brushed the soft wet folds, then pushed them deep into her slick sheath.

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  “Yes, now. Do it now.”

  He quickly rolled on a condom, and they both moaned when he pushed inside her. The feeling was so intense that Willow had to bite her lip to stop from crying. He pulled her hair free, then cupped her head, joining their lips as he thrust slowly into her again and again. The delicious tension began to build higher with each slide and ret
reat. It was almost unbearable, and she could feel a matching tension in his jaw as he fought to keep it slow.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” He whispered the words against her lips before sinking his teeth softly into the bottom one.

  “It’s almost too much.” Willow felt the first tear fall.

  “No, baby, what’s between us can never be too much.” This time he thrust into her harder, and she held him tight as he did it again and again. The kitchen was filled with their deep breaths and moans until finally Willow shuddered as her orgasm claimed her, with roll after roll of intense release. Buster’s was no less intense, and when they were finished he simply held her tight for a while, her cheek pressed to his.

  He took a moment to get rid of the condom, then handed her their clothes before lifting her off the table and into his arms. She wrapped her legs and arms around him and held on as he walked upstairs and then down a hallway. When he opened a door, she saw an unmade bed and clothes everywhere. Then they went through another door, and she saw a bathroom.

  He lowered her to the floor, then turned on the shower.

  “I have to get back to close up the café, and then take over at the carnival. Will you come with me?”

  She had a feeling he was asking her something else, but she wasn’t sure what. “Yes.”

  He took her hand and led her into the glass-walled shower, then proceeded to wash her with such tenderness that she was totally undone. By the end of it, she was breathing hard.

  “You need to stop,” she told him

  “I don’t think I can.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and gently pulled. Willow dropped her head back, and an instant later his lips were on hers. She felt his hands grip her waist, then he boosted her wet body up his and lowered her down onto his hot, aroused length.

  “I’ll never get enough of you, Willow Moonbeam Harper.”

  She couldn’t speak. She moaned, then screamed as the orgasm hit her hard and fast.

  “Hell, you make me hot, woman.”

  “Hmmm,” Willow managed.

  He insisted on washing her again, his big hands gliding over her body.