THE MAN WITH ALL THE HONEY: Sweet & Dirty BBW Romance #3

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THE MAN WITH ALL THE HONEY: Sweet & Dirty BBW Romance #3 Page 3

by Cathryn Cade


  "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Something goin' down at the BeeHive?"

  Both of them were taking the day off from dealing with her Coeur d'Alene Lake-shore cafe. With the highly capable crew working today, she hadn't expected any calls. Construction on The Stinger was halted, waiting for county inspection, so Jack was free too.

  He swam to the back of the boat and grabbed the swim ladder, hoisting himself up out of the water. He stepped into the boat, spreading his legs for balance as the craft rocked in the wake left by another speeding past.

  Maybe some of the local bikers had shown up at the BeeHive, drunk and rowdy. Given the rough crowd Jack associated with, shit happened. Whatever it was, he'd deal—with his fists, if necessary. He hoped to hell that wasn't it, because he wanted more sun, and more of the great sex she'd given him that morning, even if not in the boat.

  Lindi shook her head, her wet hair draped over one bare shoulder, flushed from the sun. "No, it's Sara. Oh, Jack, something awful's happened."

  Jack's brows went up. "To Sara?"

  From what he knew of the ice-cool, platinum blonde who was one of Lindi's two best girlfriends, nothing much happened to her that she didn't plan and control.

  He couldn't help grinning. "What'd she do, jay-walk? Drive two miles over the speed limit? Get a hole in her pantyhose?"

  "Very funny. She got so upset she quit her job, that's what happened."

  "Say what?"

  "I know," she agreed. "I can hardly believe it either. She's been in the Prosecutor's office since I've known her."

  "Damn," he said. "I'd think she'd be running the place by now. What happened?" Must have been pretty bad for the Ice Queen to turn her back on a place she’d worked all her adult years. His hackles rose. Sara was Lindi’s and therefore under his protection, if needed.

  Lindi shook her head. "I guess the new office manager has been making her life hell. Giving her all sorts of menial tasks instead of the important ones Sara was used to taking care of. I'm not sure of the details, but I think she just finally snapped. And her boss, the DA didn’t even support her."

  He grunted, bending to fish a cold one from the little cooler. "She should quit, then. Nobody needs to take that kinda shit." Especially from that tight-ass dickwad. Jack had nothing against DAs in general, but George Bartlett harassed anyone who rode a cycle, seemingly just on principle.

  "I know, honey, but Sara's uber-responsible," Lindi said. She peered up at him from the shade of her hat. "Jack ... I really need to go and be with her."

  Jack groaned. "Not now, baby. I need to get you back to the apartment and spend some up-close and personal time checking the tan lines on your sweet tits and ass, before we head out to supper at that place up the river."

  She reached up, and he handed her the beer, watching as she took a drink. He was rewarded by the jiggle of her full breasts in her low-cut bikini top.

  He himself wore a pair of blue print trunks he'd grabbed at the local sporting goods store, along with some other gear. Now that he was gonna live on a lake, he intended to enjoy the hell out of it. Even buy a boat, one of these days, when he built the house he planned, on the mountainside above the Stinger and BeeHive..

  "I'm sorry. But losing her job is huge. This calls for a girl-friend intervention."

  Jack sighed. "All right, I get it. Long as it doesn't turn into a weekend-long thing. It's the 4th—time to celebrate our independence, high style."

  "I know. And we'll still go to the Flyers' barbecue. Hey, we'll take Sara with us—she can stand to loosen up for one night."

  Jack sighed. "Right, that'll be fun. The Ice Queen partying with the Flyers."

  "Jack," his woman protested. "She's not that stuck-up."

  Oh, yeah, she was. Sometimes Jack wondered how his sweet, warm woman and her biker-chick bestie Kit had ever hooked up with a tall, chilly blonde who'd be all that if she ever loosened up enough to get her hair outta that updo she wore, not to mention lose her drab, buttoned-up clothing, but who always seemed to hold herself in check so tightly she might as well be on a leash—and he did not mean in a fun way.

  The only time he'd ever seen Sara loosen up was at Lindi's engagement party, when the three women had gotten drunk in their room at the resort and sent him and Keys some very sexy pics in their tiny, matching nighties. All her, Keys or Remi had to do now was wave a phone at Sara, and she turned red.

  Still, the three were like sisters, and if this was Keys, Jack would drop everything for him if needed, and for Remi too. Lindi deserved the same chance.

  "Let's go, then. But she's not staying in the apartment with us. Kit was all right, but I'm not sure I could keep it up long enough to satisfy you, knowing Sara was on the other side of those thin walls."

  Lindi rose, balancing as the boat rocked. Moving close, she patted his chest. "You could perform in the middle of city beach, and you know it, big guy. But don't forget Sara has her own condo and a car right here in town. Kit was essentially homeless at the time."

  Jack pulled his woman closer, reveling in her soft, sun-heated curves against his damp, lake-cooled skin, and the feel of her ass, soft yet firm in his big hand. "Yeah, I know that. But you," he warned her, tapping the mouth of the beer bottle against her cheek, "Are still gonna owe me for this."

  She tipped her sunglasses down and gave him wide eyes over the frames. "Oh, no! What will you make me do for payback?"

  He laughed, low in his chest. "It'll be dirty, and you'll love every minute of it."

  "I can't wait."

  Neither could he. And if he played his cards right, they'd have time for a quickie somewhere real soon. That would put him in a mellow mood to deal with being saddled with her uptight friend for the weekend. He gave her a kiss, and moved past her to stow the cooler under a seat, where the lid wouldn't blow off when they moved out.

  "Although it'll be kinda fun to watch the Ice Queen's reaction to the shit that goes on at a biker barbecue," he said, handing Lindi the beach towels. "'Specially after the fireworks are over, and the kids head off to bed. An' the other kinda fireworks start."

  He chuckled, and Lindi rolled her eyes as she sat in the passenger seat, the towels stowed beside her, and her floppy hat tucked away as well.

  "Well, you guys always say Stick is made of Russian ice," she said. "So maybe we should match them up. They would be gorgeous together—both tall, cool blondes."

  Jack gave her a look of sheer horror, and she burst out laughing. He shuddered, and turned the ignition key, the boat's motor thrumming to life.

  "Not even funny, babe."

  Stick Vanko and a prim, buttoned up woman from the CP's office? No, just no. That combo would work on a cold day in hell.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sara said goodbye to Marlene, and then got in her glossy gold Lexus and drove east through the small, pretty downtown area of Coeur d'Alene, full of shops, cafe and brewpubs. She felt numb and distant from the beautiful, sunny afternoon and the tourists strolling under lush baskets of blooms hanging from the old-fashioned lamp-posts.

  A loud horn behind her let her know she was sitting through a green light. She flinched, hit the gas and then slammed on her brakes, narrowly missing a teen who decided at the last second to swerve across the street on his skateboard. At the screech of her tires, he waved casually and hopped onto the opposite curb, sailing away through the pedestrians.

  Sara blew out a shaky breath of relief, tinged with the urge to roll down her car window and scream after him, which was very unlike her.

  Shaking her head, she turned onto the much quieter Lakeshore Drive, heading east along the lake. Within minutes, she was slowing for the parking lot of Lindi's little white cafe with the retro neon sign, The BeeHive.

  A backhoe, supervised by hard-hatted men, worked ponderously in the flat lot next to the cafe. Jack's supper club, already in progress.

  And high on the forested mountainside above, Younger's Auto Restorations would be busy, Keys at work on someone's prize vehicle while Kit w
orked in his office, doing accounting for him, and for Lindi's cafe.

  At least her friends and their men had hopes and dreams. Sara pulled to a stop before the cafe and blew out another breath, this one pinched with threatening tears. But she managed to fight them off by looking in the windows of the cafe, where Kit's other man, Remi, worked the grill. Lindi was no doubt in the back, stocking up some supply that had run out.

  Even with tears threatening, it was too darn hot to sit out here in the graveled parking lot. Sara opened her car door and stepped out, grabbing her purse. The sun beat down on her head and shoulders, and the backhoe engine roared, the shovel grating as the operator dug into gravel and earth.

  Inside, the cafe was blessedly cool, and fragrant with fries, burgers and coffee. Only three customers remained, chatting over the remains of their lunch.

  However, Lindi wasn't there. Instead, it was Carla, a pretty, dark waitress with a short ponytail, and the cafe's signature uniform of a white tee, black apron and capris who greeted Sara with a cheerful smile.

  Sara clambered up onto one of the padded stools at the sunny yellow counter.

  Remington Redhawk, a startlingly handsome Native American, looked up from what he was doing behind the high order-up window, and gave her a smile, teeth white in his face. "Sara, what's up?"

  Sara opened her mouth and then closed it as her lip trembled, and a hot ache pressed against the back of her eyes. She pressed her clasped hands to her mouth and shook her head.

  Remi emerged from the small grill area, at her side in an instant, wiping his strong, brown hands on his apron and then reaching to touch her bare arm, peering into her face, his beautiful dark eyes worried.

  "Hey," he said. "Whatever it is, I'm here."

  "You folks have a great weekend," Carla called behind Sara. "And thanks for coming in."

  Voices answered, but Sara was too busy sucking in aanother shaky breath to hear their words. The bell jangled as the front door opened and closed.

  Remi waited, silent and strong. Dishes clacked in the background as Carla cleared the table.

  "I ... I just lost my j-job," Sara managed, tears choking her throat and blurring her vision.

  "Holy crap." Remi gave her arm a warm squeeze. "That's tough, babe. Hard to believe they fired you."

  Sara accepted the wad of napkins Remi pressed into her hand and swiped at her wet face. "They didn't. But I q-quit and I can't ever go b-b-back."

  "Okay, okay. I'm callin' Kit." Remi let go of her to thumb his phone, while Sara sat, napkins to her face, and bawled like a baby.

  "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear." Carla stopped at Sara's side and patted her back gingerly. "Geez, I would've hoped the people in our county offices were smarter than that."

  "Kit says come up," Remi said. "Not sure you should drive, though."

  "You go with her, Remi," Carla offered. "I'll finish up here."

  "Okay," he decided. "I'll hike back down the trail through the woods, be back in fifteen. Sara, gimme your keys. I'm driving."

  Happy to let someone else take care of her for once, Sara allowed herself to be bundled into the passenger seat of her own car. Remi drove them up into the forest along a winding road, and turned up a narrower, paved drive. They emerged from the tall evergreens into a clearing that held Keys' auto shop, and the new home he shared with Kit and Remi.

  The attractive, two-story house had wrap-around decks, all painted soft green and gray to blend into the forest. Across a paved sweep stood a gray metal building with a logo painted on the side, 'Younger Auto Restorations' in black on a silver oval ringed in green. A gold set of keys dangled from the lower loop of the 'g'.

  Kit, a tall, curvaceous redhead stood waiting in front of the house, her pretty face worried. She wore a short denim skirt and off the shoulder purple-flowered gauze top paired with yellow Chucks, and managed to make the boho look work as only she could. Opening Sara's car door, she enveloped her in a hug smelling of cookies and perfume.

  “Hi, sweetie. C’mon in. We’re gonna take care of you.” Kit ushered Sara into the cool, spacious living room, sat her down on the big brown leather sofa. Remi re-appeared with two glasses and a bottle of chardonnay, and Sara took one and took a drink, cool and faintly sweet. “Th-thank you.”

  “Welcome, babe.” He set the bottle on the end table. “We got lots more.”

  Kit nodded. "Also, Lindi will be here in a few. She's out on a boat with Jack."

  "Oh, no," Sara managed, still crying. "I don't want to interrupt her fun."

  Kit gave her a look of mingled sorrow and frustration. A wide, lavender streak highlighted her luxuriant red curls over one temple. On her it looked pretty. "Sara, you're our bestie. You're hurting, we're here for you. Besides, how many times have Lindi and me cried on your shoulder?"

  Sara started sobbing again. "I l-love helping you. But I d-didn't w-want a turn!"

  "I know, hon. None of us want our turn--but it's good to have friends when we do."

  "Headin' back to the cafe," Remi told Kit. He leaned down and gave her a kiss. Sara watched, fresh tears flowing because they were so sweet together.

  "Thanks, Remi," she told him.

  He gave her a smile. "Anytime, Sara. Later."

  Sara watched him walk out of the house. "He's so sweet."

  Kit nodded, and then handed Sara a box of tissues. "Yes, he is. Here, have some more wine."

  Testament to how devastated she was, Sara didn't even consider that she never, ever drank in the middle of the day, before holding out her glass for a refill.

  Lindi arrived in another half hour, looking tanned and pretty in a short white tee-shirt dress, her red bikini top straps peeking from the wide neckline, her hair bundled up with a clip.

  "Sara," she crooned, coming to sit beside Sara on the sofa, and give her a hug smelling of sunscreen and fresh air.

  Kit gave Lindi a glass of wine, and perched on the ottoman facing them.

  With the aid of several more tissues, Sara confided the events leading up to today, and how much she'd been dreading going to work more and more for the past few months. And, finally the incident today that had sent her over the edge.

  "I knew it," Lindi said. "You're always chewing antacids."

  "And rummaging in your purse for pain-killers," Kit added. "Headaches, upset tummy ... your job was making you sick."

  Lindi nodded wisely. "This happens. I've read articles."

  Sara snorted a watery laugh. "Yeah, so have I. Unfortunately, n-none of them helped."

  "Maybe, because you were a teensy bit too stubborn to admit your workplace was the problem?" Kit asked softly. "We don't have to be psycho to see that."

  "Psychic," Lindi corrected. "The only psycho is that new personnel bee-yotch in Sara's office. Sara, I'm so sorry you didn't get her position, but ..."

  "But you're better off out of there," Kit finished vehemently.

  Sara opened her mouth to protest, but Lindi held up a hand. "No, Kit's right. Sorry it happened this way, but now you're finally free."

  "Free to decide what you really wanna do," Kit agree.

  "Right," Sara sniffled. "But what am I going to do now? I have to find another job. I just started making payments on my new car, I have condo payments and I've got Gran's place to sell ..."

  Her friends exchanged a look.

  "You don't need to decide today, do you?" Kit asked, nudging Sara's knee with her own. "Or tomorrow. Maybe just for one weekend, you can just let loose and have fun, huh?"

  "Sure," Sara agreed, although woefully. "Stay here and drink wine with my besties ... why not?"

  "Right," Kit agreed. "And then tomorrow, we can go out and really have some fun."

  Sara eyed her dubiously. "Go out where?"

  "Oh, we'll talk about that tomorrow," Lindi said airily, with a quick look at Kit. "For now, we're here. Wine, chick flicks and ice cream, right?"

  "Right," Kit agreed. "We have streaming movies, and we have chocolate-fudge and salted-caramel ice cream—an
d whipped cream."

  Sara brightened momentarily. "The kind in a spray can?"

  "Uh, yeah!" Kit said. "It's the only kind to have. And get this, it's the Costco 3-pack."

  "Oh, goodie," Lindi said dryly. "One for each of us."

  "No, one for us, and two for the guys to share—'cause they always start showing off and spraying it into their mouths, and that takes a lot."

  Since Sara had watched her own brothers do this, she nodded vehemently. Kit giggled, and Sara laughed with her. Then she remembered that the next time she spoke with either of her younger brothers, or her mother, she would have to admit she'd lost her job.

  Just as quickly, her laughter turned to turned to grief. Draining her wineglass, she grabbed another handful of tissues and began to sob again. "I'm so ashamed. I've worked there for umpteen years, and I've smiled and smiled, and said 'yes, sir' and 'yes, ma'am' to every-stinking-body in county management. And now all my hard work is gone."

  "So, no more ass-kissing," Kit said. "And they are gonna miss you. Probably already sent phone messages, begging you to come back."

  "No," Sara said, her eyes overflowing again. "George will never let that happen. But I'd like to be there to watch Li'l Ms. Tupper scurry around and try to get all my projects finished without me—ha!"

  "Right," Lindi agreed, refilling her wine glass. "They really are gonna miss you. And the next business you decide to grace with your presence will be so-oo lucky to get you."

  "So," Kit said, clapping her hands. "Movies."

  "Uh, do the guys mind if we take over their TV?" Sara asked.

  "They're out with Jack. Letting us have some girl time. Who wants to watch something with Chris Hemsworth?"

  They all did, although first Kit took Sara upstairs and offered her free run of her closet. Since they were both tall and curvy, any of Kit's clothing fit, although her taste was boho, so it took Sara a little while to select a pair of plain black yoga pants and a gray tee that ironically said 'Do What You Love' on the front. Since it was a warm evening, she went barefoot ... although the sight of her colorless toenails nearly brought her to tears again. She hadn’t even taken time for a mani-pedi lately.

 

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