Ugh. Thanks, Mom.
For all her faults and all her craziness, I missed her. She’d been an aerobicizing junkie back in the days of Suzanne Somers commercials and Thighmasters. Always working out, always watching what she ate. Constantly fighting those ten pounds she was convinced were somehow holding her back from everything good in life. I’d watched her try every fad diet and health program out there. And I’d hated it.
I’d hated the boxed dinners and freezer meals purchased from some diet company promising a better life if you only ate their stuff.
I’d hated the fake food flavorings added to things because the real stuff would add to the calorie count.
I’d hated the tracking and weighing and constant need to trim off just a little more.
I’d hated thinking that eating all that crap had caused her colon cancer, and that was why I’d become a chef, why I’d taken so many courses on nutrition and dietary needs. I’d developed the opinion that food should be food—not chemicals pretending to be food. If I plated something, I wanted to be able to tell the diner exactly what was in it and why, without either of us needing a chemical engineering degree.
And even though I couldn’t take care of my mom anymore, I could still cook. I could take care of the little town where I’d grown up, the only place I felt safe anymore. I could feed the people I cared about real food without obsessing over every single calorie in a dish.
My mother would have hated seeing the amount of butter in my restaurant, but I didn’t care. Butter was natural and real. And good. Butter was always good.
I was thinking about grabbing some of the leftover bread from the day—what I’d been planning to make bread pudding with—and slathering it with butter as a post-workout snack when the machine beeped at me. Calories spent goal achieved—workout over. Thank the stars.
I hopped off the demon I’d officially tamed and grabbed my towel, wiping the sweat from the back of my neck as I took a drink of my water. Definitely bread and butter. And maybe some cheese. Cheese was good too, though it deserved wine. If I waited until I got home, I could have all of it…and some fruit to cut the heaviness of the bread and butter. Grapes and apples, maybe. A boring night alone had never sounded so good.
But as I turned around, I found Gage sitting on the weight bench, eating a store-bought granola bar out of a shiny package. My words came unbidden, something left over from thinking about my mom and her diets. About the sickness that took her away from me.
“I can make you something way better than that.”
Eyebrows up, Gage glanced down at the bar in his hand and slowly lowered it. Shit. I hadn’t meant to food-shame him.
“I just mean, that’s fake food. They combine all of these chemicals to imitate the flavor and texture of food, but it’s not really food, you know? But you can make them with real food. Or I can. Nuts and nut butters for protein, oats to fill you up, dates for sweetness. They’d be much better for you. Not that you’re not doing fine on your own. I mean, you look fine. Not fine like fine but like…healthy. You look healthy.” Did I just tell him he wasn’t fine? Because that was the biggest goddamned lie of my life. My internal groan would have shattered a window or two, it was so loud. Time to retreat. “I should go check on my gumbo.”
“I hate these things.”
I stopped, frozen halfway through a step to walk out the door. “What?”
“These bars. They’re Bishop’s. I hate them.”
“Then why are you eating one?”
He shrugged, one ink-covered, massive shoulder rising and lowering in a smooth sort of arc. “Knew I needed to work out and didn’t have anything else to bring with me.”
Well, now I felt like a jerk. He probably didn’t have time to cook, what with working and guarding the town. Which was probably what he was doing in the gym so late—guarding me, the only person dumb enough to work past sunset when the town had already been attacked by the Soul Suckers. My opinion of myself needed clarification—I was not just a jerk, but a huge jerk.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“You ever make some of those bars you talked about, I’d love to try them.”
Flutters. I felt them all over at the tone in his voice and the way he looked at me when he said that. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Great.” I clapped my hands together, my grin unstoppable. “I’ll make some. Not tonight because I’ve got gumbo going and I’ve already kept you here late enough, plus I need to get up early to try a new bread recipe. Not sure it’s going to work out. It requires kneading, and I hate kneading bread.”
Gage rose to his feet, moving closer. Stealing all the oxygen from the air around us. “How do you make bread without kneading it?”
He…expected me to think when he stood close enough to touch? “Time. It works magic. You give the dough enough time, and the yeast will do the job for you.”
Oh god. He was so close, and he smelled so good. Like everything tasty all thrown together into the most perfect combination known to man. Like something I wanted in my mouth.
Speaking of mouths, his was only a few inches from mine as he said, “What if you’re tired of waiting?”
Why are we waiting?
“I mean…there are faster ways,” I said, trying hard to concentrate on bread. “I have an industrial mixer, so I can mix anything. The machine does most of the work, but then I have to take the dough and let it rest, punch it down, all that stuff. Eventually, I have to knead at least a little bit, but given enough time, the yeast really handles—”
“Katie.”
I couldn’t breathe, he was so close. Looking at me. Devouring me with his eyes. “Yeah?”
He stepped even closer, and my heart dive-bombed into my stomach. “I love how excited you get about food.”
And then his lips were on mine, and all thoughts about food or the restaurant or anything other than the warmth of his lips, the slickness of his tongue, and the feel of his beard against my face flew right out the window.
Chapter Five
Gage
I don’t know what made me kiss her. Okay, I totally knew. That ass. I’d been sitting on the weight bench watching her on that damned machine for twenty minutes trying to figure out if I had enough blood in the rest of my body to be able to move. To get up, maybe walk to the little restroom in the back, and jack off. To do something other than stare at the way her ass looked in those tight, black…were they pants? No way could those be pants. If she wore those out of her house on a regular basis, I’d have noticed. I’d have chased her down and made her cover up until I could get her alone and enjoy them. Because I definitely enjoyed them. So did my cock. I’d never been so damn hard.
So I kissed her.
Soft and plump, her lips met mine, opening for me as I stole a taste of her. Too damn sweet for words, this girl. I wanted to devour her. Wanted to lick every inch of her, see how she tasted all over. Wanted to trace my name on her thighs with my tongue as I gripped that ass tight. Wanted to get my mouth on her cunt and drink down every drop as I made her scream my name.
I wanted everything.
I slicked my tongue against hers and grabbed her ass, the one that had been torturing me in those pants. The one causing me to hate Camden for getting to see it in workout pants for the last few weeks as he took morning guard duty on Main Street. Had he even noticed how that ass jiggled when she moved? How the muscles of her thighs bunched and strained, pushing that perfect, round peach up even higher? Probably not—and thank fuck for that. If it’d been any other guy, they’d have been all over Katie’s ass just like I was. And then I would have had to kill them.
Hell, it was my ass now. Claim made. I squeezed Katie’s perfect cheeks hard, lifting, picking her up easy. Those thighs I wanted to crawl between opened and spread for me, those legs wrapping around my waist. All the while, I kept kissing her—kept sucking on her lips and tangling my tongue with
hers. Kept doing whatever I needed to so she’d keep her hands locked in my hair, keep her body open and warm against mine. Keep letting me grip that heart-stopping ass.
Seriously, how would I ever get enough?
“Gage,” she gasped when I pressed her to the wall. I grunted, rocking my hips into hers as I nibbled and licked down her neck. Still sweet, this girl. Still tugging on me as if needing more. She would be the death of me for sure if she kept that up.
I ran my hands down her legs to her knees and back up, gripping her thighs tight as I went. Finally getting a feel of her. Katie had curves for days—thick thighs that made you want to spread them and use one as a pillow as you ate her, wide hips meant to sway and bounce on your cock, an ass that never quit, and tits made for gripping, squeezing, and fucking. So bitable, this girl. So soft—the exact opposite of me—and I loved every fucking inch.
I rolled my hips against hers, harder this time, staring down at her as her eyes popped open. As her jaw dropped and she moaned in a way that made me want to come in my pants like a goddamned teenager.
“So fucking beautiful.” I yanked her closer, keeping our bodies tightly together. I couldn’t say much else. If I did, if I opened my mouth one more time, everything I thought about her would spill out. Like how I wanted to rip those pants off her body so I could suck on her little clit. How I loved the way her tits bounced and couldn’t wait to lay her down and get my hands on them. Like how if I didn’t get to see her come, I might lose my goddamned mind.
I couldn’t say all that, so I kissed her again instead.
Katie opened right away for me, groaning as I tasted that sweet mouth once more. Hands tightening in my hair as I thrust against her. Fabric. All that was between my cock and her hot pussy were a couple of layers of fabric. I wanted them gone, wanted to bury myself deep, to ease the ache she’d been causing in my balls since the second I’d seen her. I wanted all of her. And if the heat I felt coming from her—the way she held me tight and rocked her body against mine—was any indication, she wanted me, too.
I had to tell her. Needed to.
“Fuck, Katie. So hot. Your pussy is so fucking hot against me. You’re ready for my cock, aren’t you, princess?”
I growled as she tilted her hips, as she groaned and arched and moved against me. I could feel her—those pants she wore hid nothing from me, and with the way she angled her hips, my cock laid right against her entrance, practically hugged by her pussy. Fuck, the pants had to be pulled so tight to let me be almost inside her, had to stretch and give to conform to her body like that. When she was mine, when I got to fuck that sweet pussy every day, I’d make sure she only wore pants like these around me. I mean, I’d rather have her naked, but these were fun.
“I’m going to come,” she said, and I surged forward. Wanting that so badly. To see her give herself up to what I did to her body. “Gage, please. I’m so close.”
Filter…destroyed.
“Jesus, princess. I’m going to lick you so long and deep the next time I get you alone. Going to kiss every inch of this body, including that sweet pussy. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like me to own your little clit with my mouth. Like me to suck up every drop and beg for more. I will, Katie. I’ll beg for you like it’s my damn job.”
She curled into me as I kept thrusting against her, as I gripped her ass tight and let my fingers dig deep to pull her open for me. As I—
Heard Rex growl.
I froze, listening, every sense I had no longer on Katie. She wiggled and moaned, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I’d missed something, but Rex hadn’t. He stared at the door to Katie’s restaurant, ears up and body stiff. And then he growled again.
Fuck. We had company.
And Katie didn’t know. “Why are you—”
I shushed her as Rex growled louder, straining my ears to hear anything. Anything at all other than our own harsh breaths. Katie stiffened in my arms, a sure sign I’d just fucked up in her mind.
“Get off me.”
Yup. Big-time fucked up. But she couldn’t have seen Rex, and she most likely hadn’t heard anything yet. I really didn’t want to scare her, so I pressed into her body a little harder, pinned her in place a little more securely. Covering her just in case someone rushed the door.
And then I leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Katie—”
“I’m not a child. You don’t get to shush—”
I clamped my hand over her mouth, knowing I wasn’t making things better. Trying hard to control my need to protect her and her need to know what the fuck was happening.
Her need won out over mine. “Someone’s next door.”
She blinked as I leaned back, those wide, hazel eyes darting to the door behind me before meeting mine once more.
I couldn’t stand to see her scared.
“I need to check on the restaurant, see who’s over there. There’s a closet on the other side of the bathroom in the back corner here. You got your phone?” I wanted to curse when she shook her head in the negative. “Grab mine out of my bag. The passcode is 5284. Text Alder for backup.”
I let her legs down, backing away even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. Katie didn’t follow my whispered instructions. Instead, she stood there, looking so small and scared. Staring at me as if she might never see me again. Tough chance on that happening. She was mine now, and I’d make damn sure to come back to her no matter what. So I put my finger against her mouth and quietly shushed her again, a reminder to stay silent once she got in the closet. She grabbed my hand and tugged me closer, rising on the balls of her feet to place the sweetest, softest kiss of my life on me.
“Be careful,” she breathed against my lips.
I ran my hand over her ass, dropping down to nuzzle her neck as I whispered, “I’m more worried about you. Phone, 5284, Alder, and hide. Now.”
She stared at me for another moment, looking almost lost, breaking my heart with every passing second. But there was nothing I could do—she needed to hide, and I needed to make sure she stayed safe.
When she finally walked away, moving to grab my phone as I’d asked her to do, I breathed a little easier. She’d be okay locked back there. At least she had a better shot just in case the fuckers at the restaurant decided to come through that door. Before she was out of my sight, though, I gave Rex the hand signal to follow her, making sure they were locked up tight together so I wouldn’t be distracted. Then I dove into action.
Just in time, too, because the noises next door moved closer with every minute.
I snagged the gun I’d hidden under the weight bench and crept to the door connecting this room to the dining room at The Baker’s Cottage. French doors—flimsy wood, no lock, and way too much fucking glass—were all that stood between me and whatever was on the other side. I moved the thin, white curtain covering the doors enough to peek out. Three men moved through the shadows at Katie’s place. Shit. Three to one with me having such an important target to guard were not odds I wanted to have to take. I’d have given anything to have Bishop with me, but the fucker was in Vegas with Anabeth again, which meant I was on my own. Just me, three targets to take down, and the woman I’d been having wet dreams about for months hiding out in a flimsy closet without a lock on the door. What could possibly go wrong?
I ran through my options as fast as I could—full-out attack was no good. I didn’t have a silencer on my gun, so if I ended up having to shoot, the whole damn area would know it. Slipping out the back door or even onto the street sucked because I had no idea if they had more men waiting for us. They’d obviously come to the restaurant looking for someone, which meant they probably knew Katie would be here and likely alone. That pissed me the fuck off. The only way they’d know that was if our surveillance was off and they’d been sneaking into town—not a likely option considering how tight Alder’d been running the guards—or if they had insider info. Someone local slipping them details about the residents. Someone we wouldn’t suspect.
&
nbsp; Much more likely, and much more infuriating.
The noises on the other side of the door suddenly got louder—a voice added to the mix of bumps and footsteps.
“Where’s the girl?”
“Don’t know. Baker said she’d be here past nine. Something about cooking.”
Baker. Katie Baker. Also Sheriff Baker. Her uncle. Fuck me, the guy was as crooked as they came in law enforcement, but would he really sell out his own blood? Looked like it.
“Well, Baker was wrong,” the first guy said, obviously moving closer to the doors.
“There’s food on the stove in the kitchen. Something cooking in a big pot and a pan on a lit burner.”
Shit. No way would someone leave food cooking and not be close, and those fuckers likely knew that. I figured I had about sixty seconds to get Katie out of here, which wasn’t even close to enough time.
“Find her.” Guy One sounded pissed. “The bitch has to be around here somewhere. Pistol wants leverage, so we’re not leaving without her.”
Pistol, which meant the Soul Suckers. And Katie’s uncle, Sheriff Baker. We’d known they were in bed together, but this was different. This was confirmation that the county sheriff was working with the motorcycle gang attacking our town.
It also meant Sheriff Baker had sold out his niece to a band of lawless thugs, something I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not until I had her safely tucked away where he couldn’t get to her.
But once I had her secured? I hoped—I actually hoped—both men showed up in town, because there would be a reckoning coming their way. And if they didn’t? If they stayed away like the cowards I knew them to be?
We’d hunt them down and drag their sorry asses right back to Main Street.
And then neither man would make it out of Justice alive.
Chapter Six
Katie
I’d never been afraid of the dark as a child. Not really…anything bad that had happened to me in the dark had occurred as an adult. I still wasn’t afraid of the blackness, though I had to admit, standing in the closet alone, save for Rex at my feet, made me uncomfortable. Add in the fact that I was in said closet because bad guys had broken in to my restaurant? That feeling jumped right up there to terrified.
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