Lover Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  I turn my full attention back to Cleo as she dumps the coins into my tip jar and tucks the paper bills into her wallet. "Any time, lovely!" She gives me a cheeky wink.

  Cleo is one of my favorites (and not just because she’s Nova’s mom). Thrice divorced, she finally gave up on love after her last husband left her up to her eyeballs in debt. She got into real estate in her late forties and turned things around. Now, she's a self-made woman and she has the bumper sticker to prove it.

  She’s a central part of my weekday routine. She comes into the shop every morning at 7:59 on the nose and orders the same damn thing—a triple chocolate pecan cupcake and a tall decaf coffee with cream, two sugars and a pump of vanilla—she then leans against the counter, making post-coital noises and offering unsolicited business advice as she devours her sugary breakfast.

  When she sashays out of here at 8:05, I get a chance to flip over the open sign. Bob and Shirley, the perpetually bickering senior couple, usually amble in a few minutes later for vanilla cupcakes. They grab their favorite table by the window and take advantage of the free coffee refills until it's time for them to go home for their late morning nap.

  Levine and Riggs, the hot cop duo, often stroll in around 9:00 for the box of donuts that gets them through their shift. Levine, recently married, usual goes for three jelly-filled donuts. Meanwhile, Riggs, the unrepentant flirt, just flashes his dimpled smile and tells me that he'll take whatever I put in front of him.

  The evil soccer moms turn up just after mommy and baby yoga class, with their strollers and their diaper bags and their holier-than-though attitudes. Their ill-mannered kids hoot and holler until they wear themselves out just in time for lunch.

  So the Broken Cupcake is a morning hot spot in this town and I'm used to the routine. It's what I'm familiar with. Even seeing Charlie's pickup truck pulling up to the curb right before noon isn't out of the ordinary…

  But the sight of Leo, sliding his long, lean body out of the front passenger's seat with that brooding, hot-dad look on his face...the sight of his muscular forearms peering out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his powder blue henley...the sight of his thick, paint-speckled fingers pushing through his dark blond hair as he follows my brother through the front door? That's new and as my mouth goes dry, I realize that I'm totally unequipped to deal with it.

  Chapter 15

  Leo

  She’s the first thing I see as I step into the bustling, little cupcake shop. She’s standing behind the counter in a tight black t-shirt under the watermelon pink apron tied around her waist. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face in a messy ponytail. I kick myself internally for noticing the rich brown color of her eyes and the soft fullness of her lips.

  Sweet Reese. Cupcake Girl.

  And the way her tongue runs nervously along the plump flesh when she sees me.

  Our eyes meet and my pulse booms in my veins. I still haven’t gotten used to the way my body overreacts to seeing her. Being around her makes me feel less than steady, a little shaky on my knees. The sensation is unfamiliar to me. I’m used to being strong, with an impenetrable will. This girl throws me off-balance.

  Shifting my eyes, I pretend to take interest in the exposed brick walls, the stainless steel sinks, the butcher's block counter and finally, the display of decadent-looking cupcakes spread out beneath the glass case. But inevitably, my attention comes back to her. I have no choice.

  She’s a goddess. Pure temptation. So beautiful. So perf—

  “Hey big head. What’s the cupcake of the week?” I glare at Charlie as he greets his sister.

  Such brotherly affection. Warms my heart.

  Tearing her gaze away from me, Reese glances at the display case and stutters. “Uh well, uh…we’ve, uh…we’ve got maple-banana split. It’s a banana bread cupcake sprinkled with, um, chocolate, nuts and a cherry on top. And instead of caramel, we used, uh, maple sauce. I mean, maple syrup. An unexpected twist on the well-loved classic.”

  Charlie pauses and looks at her. “You okay? You sound like a late-night infomercial host with a speaking impediment. And you look like you’ve got an upset stomach.”

  Her cheeks pink up and she folds her arms across her chest. “You gonna take it or not, Charlie?” Her voice is impatient.

  He waves her away dismissively. “Yeah, sure.” He faces the customer tables and lets his predatory gaze sweep over the room. He quickly spots something that he likes and strides over in that direction. “You mind bringing it over to my table? I’m gonna go say hi to that beauty over there.”

  Reese makes an unintelligible sound after her brother as he stalks over to the table where a young professional woman is deeply immersed in a novel.

  "Excuse me. Is that the latest Oprah Book Club pick?" he asks.

  Blushing, she nods. "Yes. It's beautiful. Very moving." Her hand falls to her heart and she exhales wistfully.

  Charlie bobs his head in agreement. "A breathtaking piece of literature," he says solemnly.

  "It is." Her breathing goes wispy.

  He sinks into the seat across from her and leans over the table. "I don't usually do this but, how about I come over to your place later? To discuss the book, of course."

  Her eyes are wide, shiny disks. Her lashes flutter at the attention. "I'd love that..."

  Reese rolls her eyes as her pick-up artist brother intertwines the woman’s fingers with his and programs her number into his phone with his free hand. I just shake my head.

  “What a charmer,” I mutter into the air.

  “I know right.” Reese’s eyes move to me and they’re like magnets, pulling me toward the counter when I know for sure that I should be walking the other way. There’s that feeling in my gut again. It intensifies when she sucks in her bottom lip and her eyes smile coyly. Jesus—I’m in trouble with this one.

  Desperate for a deflection, I turn my focus on the cupcakes. “You made all these?” I ask, motioning at the goodies in the case.

  She nods with a smile that’s nervous. She speaks in a voice that’s breathy. “Yes.”

  The corners of my lips climb faintly and our eyes hold. Silence stretches between us for just a second too long.

  She rushes to fill it with her rambling. Now, she’s telling me that she popped the cupcakes into the oven at 3:47 this morning and that she started working on the donuts while they baked. She’s saying that she had to let the cupcakes cool before decorating them so she got started on the frosting mix while the donuts sat in the oven. The next step was icing the cakes and then glazing the donuts. She goes into detail about the decoration and display process.

  God—she talks a lot.

  It’s a shaky, nervous kind of disjointed verbosity with lots of nervous giggles thrown in. My gaze is transfixed to her lips the whole time. I study the way they quirk when she speaks and how they lift at the corners when she smiles.

  As she goes on, listing off all the different varieties of cupcakes and donuts and cake pops on display, I don’t really hear what she’s saying. Instead, I let her voice wash over me. It’s calming, soothing. And she’s fucking cute. In an I-want-to-bend-her-over-this-counter-and-frost-her-butt-cheeks-with-my-cum kind of way.

  Fuck, that was inappropriate. I'm becoming a creep. I'm gonna need an outlet for all this sexual tension. Soon. Before I do something that I won’t be able to take back.

  I settle on a classic vanilla cupcake with sprinkles. She boxes it up and I reach across the counter for the treat. I see the way her chest hitches and the way she bites on her lip when our fingers brush.

  The electricity of her touch skitters along the surface of my skin. I instantly drop the box to the counter and, for one hot, irrational, not-thinking-straight second, I lock my fingers around hers. My heart is a wild stallion in my chest, just like it was when I kissed her last night.

  Can’t get last night out of my head. And the look on her face tells me that she can’t either. Kissing her like that was a bad idea. That’s clear now that I’m lo
oking into the brumous depths of her brown eyes. I fucked up.

  I release her hand and throw a quick glance over my back at Charlie. He’s still immersed in his seduction dance with that gullible woman with a taste for literary fiction. Moving closer to the counter, my gaze locks on Reese and I lower my voice. “Are you okay?”

  She inches a careful step back and pastes on a wide smile. “What do you mean?”

  Cocking an eyebrow, I give her a stern look. “You know what I mean, Reese. Are you okay?”

  She steals in a breath and her smile goes wider. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I crossed a line last night. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was inappropriate.”

  Her brows furrow and she gives me a sympathizing look. “It was just a kiss, Leo. What? You think I’m all torn up over a little kiss?”

  Well, that response is not what I was expecting. Tilting my head, I examine her again. Her features are schooled in impassive confidence. Her shoulders are back. Her head held high. Shit—I misread her.

  “I’m sorry,” I begin. “I thought…”

  “It’s okay. You don't have to develop some weird complex because we kissed. We're both adults here.” She taps my hand patronizingly. “We got a little carried away. That’s all.”

  My ego takes a hit as I realize that the kiss that kept me up all night didn’t mean anything to her. It didn’t affect her one bit.

  “So, I’ve been overthinking this?”

  One corner of her mouth tilts up. “Absolutely. I’m so over it. Let’s just move on.” At her words, I feel a sharp pinch in my chest. I was sure that she’d felt something when I kissed her. The way her body had keened toward me. The way she’d locked her fingers in my hair. The way she’d groaned against my lips. But I won’t push the issue and make an even bigger ass of myself.

  Instead of debating with her, I nod my head in agreement. “Yeah, let’s just move on.”

  Her chest hitches and her eyes widen slightly as they lock on something over my shoulder. I feel someone approaching.

  Charlie pops up over my shoulder. “The service here sucks!” he gripes, cutting his eyes at his little sister.

  “Sorry, we don’t pander to rude non-paying customers,” she jabs right back.

  He gives me a rough squeeze on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. Sophia and Josh are coming by the worksite again after lunch so we’ve gotta get back down there and pretend that we’re working hard.”

  Reese hands Charlie his cupcake and places two takeout cups of iced tea on the counter between us. Charlie grabs his drink and strides toward the door. “Later, kid,” he calls out to his sister.

  I reach into my pocket and slip out my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  She waves me off. “It’s on the house.”

  “Leo—let’s go!” Charlie calls impatiently from the door.

  My attention stays on the petite baker. “Reese…”

  “No,” she insists. “Your money’s no good here.”

  Sighing roughly, I yank a twenty out of my wallet and slide it into her tip jar. She glares at me as I walk toward the exit.

  But there’s something more in her eyes. That’s desire, isn’t it? I swear—that’s desire.

  I let it go. I’ve already made enough mistaken assumptions for one day.

  Chapter 16

  Leo

  Thirty-one…Thirty-two…Thirty-three…

  Sweat pours down my forehead and the muscles in my torso tighten as I effortlessly raise my upper body into a sitting position. I pause for a breath, just one second of reprieve. Then with both hands cupping the back of my head, I lower to the floor again and the muscles relax.

  My body is used to the pain, my muscles crave the burn. After being in the military for so long, I need a grueling regime that keeps me strong and ready. It keeps my demons at bay. Without it, I feel vulnerable. And I can’t afford to feel vulnerable.

  Thirty-four…Thirty-five…

  The basement is cold. The cement walls are unfinished and covered in cobwebs. I’m sure if I stay down here long enough, some rodent will scamper by, searching for food. It doesn’t matter, though. This damp floor is the lap of luxury compared to the places I’ve been.

  Thirty-six…Thirty-sev—

  My eyes flutter shut and I see Charlie’s face. Bruised and battered, blood dripping from his chin. One eye swollen shut. I hear Archibald screaming at me to get back. I see Johnson’s lifeless body facedown in the dirt—

  My phone rings on the concrete next to me. I jolt. There are still certain things about civilian life that take me off guard and cause all the alarm bells to sound. A ringing phone is one of them.

  I drop onto my back and grab the phone, checking the number on the screen. I don’t recognize it but that’s not surprising. The only people who have my phone number are Charlie and Brent’s preschool. I contemplate letting the call go to voicemail, but my gut tells me to answer it.

  My gut is usually right.

  “Hello.”

  A deep laugh rumbles through the speaker. “Holy shit! It’s actually true!”

  I chuff, recognizing that voice immediately. Speak of the devil…“What’s true?”

  “They let you out into the general population,” he snorts. “They must not know that you’re a fucking lunatic!”

  I almost laugh, too. Almost. “Takes a lunatic to know a lunatic, my friend.”

  Goddamn Archibald Jones. Never takes anything seriously. He was always able to find the silver lining when everyone else could only see mushroom clouds and wreckage and misery. That was his gift out in the jungle. Injecting just enough levity to keep the rest of us from going insane.

  “When Charlie told me that you were in Copper Heights, Illinois, working for his construction company, I thought he was pulling my leg. But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “It’s true,” I confess as I wipe sweat from my brow with my t-shirt.

  His voice grows somber in a rare moment of seriousness. “So, I’m guessing the other bit is true, too? The bit about Mara? She left you with the kid?”

  I sigh heavily at the mention of my son’s mother, the woman who no longer wants to be in our lives. Now, she’s gone and I’m left on my own trying to navigate the life we were supposed to live together.

  “Yeah,” I say solemnly. “Mara’s gone.”

  Archie whistles under his breath. “She was never a good woman, Montgomery. We tried telling you that.”

  “Did ya really?” I say snarkily. My team had hinted at it over the years, I guess, but no one would dare come straight out and tell me that my wife was a bitch. I wish I had seen that on my own.

  “Chin up, Buttercup. You’ll find somebody,” he says encouragingly. “In time.”

  A scoff is my only response.

  I hear the playfulness in his voice when he speaks again. "Charlie's got two sisters in town, doesn't he?"

  I grunt. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  Laughter pelts out of Archie's mouth. "When I spoke to him just now he said that he’d break your balls if you got anywhere near them but you could take Charlie and we all know it."

  He's right. I know I could kick Charlie’s ass. But I really don’t want it to have to come to that. I value his friendship and I’d rather not rock the proverbial boat.

  Archie’s cackling peters off. “You aren’t laughing,” he observes suspiciously. There’s a drawn out pause as he puts the pieces together. “You aren’t messing around with one of his sisters, are you?”

  Fuck. “Look—it’s not ‘messing around’, okay? It was just one kiss.”

  His groan rolls through the phone like thunder. “Bro…”

  The guilt pulsing through me becomes a second heartbeat. I have every reason to feel bad.

  It was a very simple rule. It was right there on Moses’s scroll. Etched in stone. The eleventh commandment—thou shalt not mess around with thy best friend’s little sister. I broke that rule.


  “It was one kiss. It won’t happen again.” I make the promise more to myself than to him. It’s true. There won’t be any more kissing.

  The kiss left me completely discombobulated but it didn’t affect Reese one bit. Can’t say it didn’t sting, though.

  What’s her deal? Do I have bad breath? Did I use too much tongue? Yeah, I’m sure that’s it—too much tongue.