FOLLOW THE HONEY (Sweet & Dirty BBW Romance Book 4)

by Cathryn Cade

  Lesa's heart thumped with excitement. Every girl knew a jewelry box when she saw one.

  She let go of Pete, and standing in the circle of his arm, she opened the box. She gasped, and then bit back a sob of joy as she looked up at him.

  On a bed of gold satin lay a huge, teardrop shaped pearl, a diamond at the apex where the pendant was fastened to a gold chain. Beside it lay two earrings, smaller teardrop pearls suspended on gold chains.

  He winked at her. “You did know I meant a real one, right, moye?”

  “I love it," she said, her voice quavering. "It’s the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me.”

  He kissed her again, cupping the side of her face. “Glad you like it. Although the one you have on is bigger, sure you wanna trade?”

  She laughed. “I’m positive.”

  “Does this mean you two are goin' steady now?” T-Bear asked, grinning down at Lesa.

  “Mean’s she’s off the market for you, brah,” Moke said, appearing to give Lesa the first full smile she’d gotten from him, all flashing white teeth against his golden skin. “Way go, wahine. Dis brah da kine.”

  “Thank you?” she said doubtfully.

  Pete laughed. “It’s all good, milaya. Now, I wanna see the pearls with this smokin’ dress—which by the way I’m makin’ your work uniform from now on.”

  When she merely shook her head and laughed, he nodded. “Yeah, I am. Beer sales will triple.”

  “How about if I wear the pearls every day instead?” she offered. She pulled off the cheap necklace, and tossed it over her shoulder, making T-Bear laugh.

  Then she stood, beaming as Pete put on the beautiful pendant around her throat, and gave her a smoldering look. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  She put in the earrings herself, and shook her hair back for Pete to admire his gift. He gave her a look that sent heat melting through her, and nodded, reaching for her again.

  “Yeah, moye, that’s it. That’s gorgeous. Now c’mere, I’m already missing those lips.”

  “I’m getting’ this on video,” T-Bear yelled. “I’ll send you a copy, Lesa.”

  He wasn’t the only one holding up his phone and grinning as Pete rocked Lesa back in a deep bend and kissed her until his strong arms were all that kept her from melting on the floor in a puddle.

  Then he let her up, and someone handed them both shots and Stick moved forward to raise his glass to them. “Little brother, glad you finally found a woman who will put up with you. Lesa, you get tired of his sorry ass, that’s fine, but for God’s sake don’t leave the Hangar—we need you here.”

  “Amen!” Sylvie crowed, and they all drank back their shots.

  “Want another?” Pete asked.

  Lesa coughed.“I think I’d better have some Coke in my next one—I want this evening to last.”

  “That’s good, ‘cause we got this place shut down,” he told her. “Private party, Flyers families and friends of the club only.”

  “And I hope you notice the decorations,” Sylvie said, appearing with drinks for both of them—a whiskey neat for Pete and a whiskey-and-Coke for Lesa. “Because this slave-driver had Maggie and me putting them up all afternoon.”

  Lesa looked around at the pub. “You did great,” she approved, and then gave in and laughed at the look on Pete’s face—as if he didn’t know whether to be proud or disgusted by his pub, which now sported red hearts everywhere. They glittered from the light fixtures, shimmered from slim vases on every table, streamed from the rafters, and even popped up from headbands on several of the old lady's heads.

  She also noted red rosebuds in the table vases, and a big bouquet of red roses on the display case.

  “This is the most romantic thing any guy has ever done for me,” she told him.

  “Well, tell your friends to take lots of pics, ‘cause it ain’t ever happenin’ again,” he told her, but his eyes twinkled as he said it. “Now get out there and dance with your girls, ‘cause I wanna see your moves in this dress.”

  Laughing, she took her drink and turned to the open area before the bar, which a few couples had turned into a dance floor to the sounds of Zach Brown. Kit was dancing with a lean, handsome Native American in a red shirt and jeans, with a silver and black bolo tie.

  Lesa took a closer look at him and shrieked with excitement. “Remington! Oh, my God, you’re Kit’s Remi?”

  She hurried to them, gave Kit wide eyes, and then gave Remi a one-armed hug.

  “Lesa.” He said, hugging her back. “Great to see you again, and not at Twist.”

  They shared a look of horror, and then laughed. Lesa turned to Kit. “This guy was the only one who made working at that trendy crap palace bearable—and then he quit.”

  Kit beamed at them both. “Aw, this is so cool that you two are already friends. Now you just have to meet Keys.”

  “Hey,” said a voice behind Lesa. “Thought this lady was with Brews, now I see her movin’ in on Remi?”

  “Hi,” Lesa breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the hotness that was Remi being hugged close by a silver-haired biker with laughing blue eyes. “Uh, I am with Brews—I mean, Pete. Remi’s just a friend.”

  Both men laughed, and Kit giggled. “He knows that after watching the show you and Brews put on,” Remi told her. “Keys is just pulling your chain. Damn, I’m glad you’re here, girl. And that we’ll get to hang out again. Although, you get tired of working here, come on over to the Beehive Café. Lindi and I are turning it into a destination on the lake.”

  “Hey, I got first dibs on her,” said a familiar, deep rough voice. Lindi and Jack joined their group. “She gets done with Brews, she’s comin over to the Stinger, ain’t that right, Lesa?”

  He grinned over her shoulder, and the back of Lesa’s neck tingled. She shook her head, smiling. “No thanks. I’m staying right here. Pete’s going to make me manager, isn’t that right, honey?”

  He stepped up behind her, pulling her back against him, his arm around her waist. “You listening, brothers? You do not want this woman in your place—she’ll be runnin' it and giving you orders.”

  She tipped her head to give him a look. “You like my ideas! You already said so.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I do, baby.” The dirty way he said this left no doubt he was not talking about the pub.

  She huffed. “I told you, not at work.”

  "This ain't work, this is a Valentine's Party," he said. "Or, since you're not getting' that, did I just waste over two hundred bucks on roses and shit?"

  The other men laughed. “Damn, you got your hands full with this one, Brews,” Keys said.

  “And he’s going to treat her right,” said Sara, as she and Stick moved to join them. “’Cause my guest room is always available if he doesn’t.”

  “Hey, I might be the one who needs it,” Pete said, “She’s feisty when she gets riled up.”

  “Well, if you can’t talk her down, then you ain’t no brother of mine,” Stick Vanko said smirking at his younger brother. “But my money’s on you, brat.”

  “You wanna find trouble, just follow the money,” Jack said wryly.

  “Amen to that, brother,” Keys agreed.

  “A man in love can’t be worryin’ about cold, hard cash,” T-Bear boomed, holding a foaming glass high to them. “Tonight’s about grabbing a sweet woman and holdin’ on.”

  “Yeah, too bad you ain’t got one,” Moke told him, taking a drink of his own beer.

  “I’m gonna get one,” T-bear told him, looking around. “Just gotta find me a sweet piece. Follow my nose to the honey.” He wandered off toward a trio of women by the bar, giggling over their drinks.

  "That's what a bear does,” Pete murmured in Lesa’s ear, his chest quivering with a chuckle. “Me, I got my sladkaya moye. And I wanna taste, now.”

  Pete led Lesa into the office, and closed the door behind them. Then he locked it.

  "Don't want any interruptions," he told her. "While I see what's under
that dress."

  She giggled. "Not much, except me."

  He smiled slowly. "That's what I'm hoping."

  She perched on the side of his desk and smiled at him. "So is T-Bear right?" she asked, a little shyly. "Are we going steady now?"

  He looked at her and chuckled. "Uh, yeah. You can call it that, you can call it anything you want, moye."

  He moved close and took her in his arms. "But we are together. You and me, against the world. The rest we'll figure out as we go, okay?"

  "Okay. Then you should probably kiss me."

  "No probably about it, Lesa moye. I should."

  So he did, and more.

  And it was a while before they rejoined their Valentine's Day party—but those who noticed, just smiled and went on partying, in high style, because that’s how the Devil’s Flyers did things.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Late March

  On a warm, spring afternoon, with blue skies overhead, green grass and yellow dandelions along the roadsides, and winter wheat a dusting of green on the rolling hills of the Palouse prairie, Pete brought his big Harley roadster out for the season.

  Lesa stood by, nearly hopping up and down in her excitement. She wore her new black leathers—a darling fitted jacket, gloves and even chaps—over her jeans and sweater, and new black motorcycle boots. Her hair hung down in a loose braid from under her new pink-and-black helmet.

  "I feel like a bad-ass biker babe," she told Pete.

  He grinned at her. "You look like one, moye. And after today, you'll be one."

  He was looking even more hot than usual in his Flyers' jacket, with chaps over his jeans and boots.

  And when he straddled the big, silver motorcycle with red-and-blue ghost flames, a thrill of pride and sheer lust shivered through her, and dampened her panties.

  She was not sure Pete Vanko should be allowed near a motorcycle ever again, without her as chaperone. Because what woman could resist him? Gawd, he was hot, all tall and broad-shouldered and handsome in his biker gear.

  She whipped out her phone and took a picture of him with the red barn in the background. Oh, yeah, that one was her new computer desktop background for the pub office—which she used one day a week.

  She'd taken over ordering tee-shirts and other sales items for the pub, about which Pete was so relieved, he bought her a heavy, gold bracelet—although he did make her pose on his desk for him, wearing nothing else but that and the pearl pendant and earrings.

  Kit was the bookkeeper now, and she was good enough that she only had to be there one day a week, also leaving her time to do the books for Younger Automotive and Lindi's BeeHive Café.

  Lesa looked forward to the redhead's visits. They always had lunch together, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. Kit knew all the stories about the Devil's Flyers and their old ladies.

  Kit had her own motorcycle, too. Lesa wasn't sure if she would ever want one herself. Today was her first ride ever.

  And wait till her little sisters saw her on the back of a big Harley with this guy. They’d absolutely swoon. Well, Traci would. Billie would probably blink and go back to her imaginary heroes.

  As for her dad, he’d made it over for a visit soon after Valentine’s Day, when the roads had cleared. Pete had gone out of his way to be polite and respectful—for which she’d thanked him later in a way he loved—so Phil Boggs had headed back to the Tri-Cities reassured that his oldest daughter was well and happy. And he seemed to be doing okay too, which made Lesa happy.

  The big motorcycle rumbled smoothly to life. Pete jerked his chin to her. "C'mon, milaya. Climb on, and remember to keep your leg away from the tail pipes like I showed you."

  She nodded, and put her leg over the leather seat, climbing on behind him. He made sure her feet were up, and that she was hanging onto him, her arms around his waist.

  "Ready?"

  "Yes!"

  He nodded, then squeezed the throttle. They rolled forward, the fat tires crunching on the gravel, then hit the pavement of the drive, and picked up speed as they rolled along the road.

  Lesa sat as still as she could, hanging on to him, but not too tight, and remembered to lean with him into the curves.

  At the county road he grinned over his shoulder. "You're doin' good. Ready for some speed?"

  She wasn't sure, but she nodded anyway, because if she was going to be a biker babe, she'd better start now.

  And it turned out, she loved it. They rolled through the green, springtime countryside, swooping through hollows and over hills, around curves with speed and grace. The wind rushed past them, and the motorcycle rumbled underneath them.

  When they were miles north and west of town, nearly an hour out, Pete pulled off onto a dirt road, and they rolled along—much more slowly—until they reached a copse of evergreens. An old picnic table stood in a patch of sunlight, with a rusty iron barrel nearby, and a few discarded beer cans and pop bottles.

  "Stop here for lunch?" he asked her. They'd packed a picnic lunch and some beers—unfortunately from another brewery—in the bike panniers.

  "Okay, sure." There was a farm house and outbuildings in the distance, with a few horses and cows grazing beyond a barb-wire fence, but no one else around for miles.

  It was so warm in the sun they took off their leathers. Pete spread an old fleece blanket over the table and then perched her on the end, moving between her legs to give her a long, sweet kiss.

  Then he looked into her eyes. "You happy?"

  She nodded, her heart swelling with the sheer joy she always felt when he was near. "So happy. Are you?"

  He nodded back, and pulled her closer. "I am. We've known each other for only three months, give or take, but lookin' back, that day you walked into the Hangar … that was the luckiest day of my life, so far."

  "Oh," she breathed. "Mine too, honey."

  Even though he treated her with care and passion—and bossiness, because he was still Pete Vanko, biker man—it felt sweet to hear the words.

  "So, I'm thinkin', he went on. "We've had our hard times. You left, but you came back to me. And this time—I'm not lettin' you go, not again. I'm holdin' on. Want you to be my old lady."

  She gasped. "Oh, my God. You do?"

  "Yeah, I do." He kissed her, and for a long time the only sound was the spring breeze and their soft breaths.

  Finally, he lifted his head, cupping her face in his hand. "So, what do you say, moye?"

  "I say yes!" She smiled up into his eyes, her heart in her own. "I'll be honored to be your old lady, Pete Vanko."

  He smiled back. “Good. Didn’t get you a ring yet, but we'll get to that. 'Cause I figure your dad would rather you were married, rather than shackin' up with a biker.”

  “Yes, he would,” she agreed happily. “And since he’s impressed with you being a business owner and all, he’ll be thrilled to hear I’m gonna marry you.”

  They laughed together, then he kissed her again. “A dad wants his girls set up safe and happy, right? We’ll pick out a ring soon as we have time. I lucked out with the necklace, but I don’t know shit about what kinda ring you'll like. Long as it's big and flashy, that's all I care.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “Yeah, so every time you look at it, your pussy’ll get wet,” he added.

  She rolled her eyes, but laughed as she did so.

  “But Pete, are you sure?” she asked him, even though her heart knew the answer. “You’re ready to settle down, for good?”

  He kissed her again, and smiled down at her. “Milaya moye, if I’ve learned one thing in the last few months, it’s that following the money may catch a thief. But to find what a man really wants, he’s gotta follow the honey. And I got mine.”

  She sighed. "Oh, my God, that was so romantic." She bit her lip and looked up at him under her lashes. “Now say it in Russian."

  “Da, moye.” He said that, and more, and soon both of them were peeling clothing off the other in between kisses. And then he ma
de love to her on the old picnic table, under the curious gaze of a few cows, and a hawk wheeling overhead. They didn’t get back on the bike for a while, but neither of them minded a bit.

  Later, after they were lounging on the blanket in the sun, their clothing more or less back on, eating their lunch, he told her, "Now, you're a bad ass biker babe."

  She lifted her head, giving him a look of dawning triumph. "I so am! Woo hoo, I rock at being a Flyers' old lady."

  Which was true, and he told her so, with his body and his words.

  The End

  * * *

  Dear Readers,

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  And for more

  Sweet & Dirty BBW Romance

  Coming soon, Rocker and Billie in Book #5 …

  turn the page …

  Book One

  Show Me the Honey

  featuring Jack and Lindi

  When a small-town cafe owner is grabbed by a rambling biker looking for stolen cash, she must convince him to let her go. But finding out he has the wrong woman only makes him more determined to hang onto her ... this time for all the right reasons.

  Book Two

  Honey for Nothin’

  featuring Keys, Kit and Remi

  in a red hot MMF ménage romance

  Kit hates making choices—life has taught her she makes all the wrong ones. So what’s a BBW redhead to do when she must choose between two hot bikers?