by Rexi Lake
Sweet Cider Sin
A Bad Apples Novel
By
Rexi Lake
Table of Contents
Title Page
Sweet Cider Sin (Bad Apples)
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
“Olivia’s Apple Oatmealies” | Apple Cinnamon Oatmeal Cookies
About the Author
Don’t miss the other Bad Apple novels!
Other Novels by Rexi Lake
Sweet Cider Sin
Copyright © 2020 Rebecca Luman (as Rexi Lake)
Cover design by Evenlea Publishing & Design
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from Rebecca Luman or Rexi Lake.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
This book is sold in print and electronic formats and is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book, when in electronic format, may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you are reading this book in print or electronic format and did not purchase or borrow it through proper channels, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
**Disclaimer: The recipe used in this book is from Cooking Classy. Copyright © 2020 Cooking Classy; https://www.cookingclassy.com/apple-cinnamon-oatmeal-cookies/.
Dedication
For those who need it, there is hope.
Incredible changes don’t have to be an end.
Sometimes, they are the beginning you didn’t know you needed.
Chapter One
“Lola! I’ve got your delivery!” Tucker Hart called from just inside the back door of the Bad Apple Cafe.
“Just set the boxes on the counters!” The response came from the front of the small place.
“You got it.” He propped open the door and returned to the back of his pickup and the boxes of cider and apples. Every two weeks he delivered the cases. When the name of the place had the word apple, it was good to have them on the menu.
The Bad Apple Cafe had plenty of apple items to choose from! Apple pies and hot apple cider were just the basics. Like most delis in the city, they had a selection of baked goods for breakfast, salads and sandwiches for lunch, and desserts - lots of desserts - for Lola’s sweet tooth.
Tucker unloaded the boxes two at a time. Having worked on the family farm since he was a kid, he’d figured out fast that being a farmhand had a few benefits, one of which was the workout routine that came from picking and lifting bushels of apples and barrels of cider. As he set the boxes on the counter, he double-checked each one to make sure the product was still good. Driving an hour into the city meant the boxes could shift and the apples inside could too.
Lola came back into the kitchen as he was bringing in the final case of apples.
“Here you are, Lola. Five boxes of our finest apples and ten gallons of cider. What are you cooking up this week?”
“Basics for the next week,” Lola answered with a smile. “I’ve got some training to do.”
“Training?” Tucker raised a brow in question.
“Yep. New girl starts today. She starts in a few minutes. Sister Mary Agnes brought her in and convinced the boss to give her a shot. I guess she’s not got much experience in working.” The tall redhead shrugged and chuckled.
“Well, I’ll have to stop in for lunch before I head back out.” Tucker handed over the receipt for the delivery. “Hopefully she can make a decent apple pie so I can grab a slice for mom. You know she loves your pies.”
“I’ll make sure to make one for you if she can’t. I wouldn’t want one of my favorite customers to go without her treat this week.”
Tucker laughed. “I’ll make sure to let her know you said that. I’ll see you later, Lola.”
Lola was already digging into the first box of apples and selecting the ones she wanted. “See ya, Tuck!” she called out.
He grinned as he shut the door and climbed into his truck. Lola had the softest heart of anyone he knew. She’d be trying to help the new girl with everything. He started up the truck and headed to the next delivery. He always started with Bad Apple because he actually liked Lola. His other deliveries weren’t nearly as enjoyable.
His next three stops were some of the higher-end hotels of New York City - The Park Hyatt, The Mark, and Soho House. He had orders for the Soho House sporadically. It depended on whether a certain celebrity photographer was in residence or not. Apparently La Dame was in town for some event or other. He snorted as he pulled up to the delivery space. “The Lady” was a rather ridiculous name, but it was the one the woman went by.
“Oh, thank goodness. Do you have any idea how late you are?” the chef asked. He snatched the box from Tucker’s hands and huffed in anger as he turned his back on Tuck. “Damn deliveries are never on time,” he mumbled.
Tucker frowned. “It’s eight o’clock. Delivery was scheduled for eight-thirty.”
The chef looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Tucker with a scowl. “It was scheduled for seven-thirty,” he replied harshly.
Tucker shook his head. He handed the receipt to the chef and scowled back. “Next time, double-check your order time. Seven-thirty is never available. It’s reserved for a regular customer. If you want it earlier than eight, you’ll need to take delivery before the day you need them.”
The chef, an older man who had perfected looking down his nose at those around him, despite his own shorter stature, sniffed. “Well, I will be sure to inform your boss about your attitude.”
Tucker smiled. Actually, it was more like a stretch of his lips over gritted teeth. He crossed his arms. “I’ll let my father know to expect your call then,” he said. “Since he handles the review of the routes prior to delivery, he would be the one to have scheduled you.”
The smaller man pulled himself up straighter - which Tucker wondered how that was possible when he already had a stick up his ass - and puffed up his chest like a cock - appropriate since Tucker thought the man was a prick. “I’ll not be ordering from Hart Farms in the future then.”
“Let me know how La Dame feels about that. She orders from us directly when she’s on the road in the US. Be glad she allows you to make her purchases and then supply her when she’s near enough.” Tucker turned on his heel and stalked back to his truck.
He got behind the wheel and slammed his hand against it in anger. The damn man had gotten under his skin. He knew it. He growled in anger as he started the engine. He had another two deliveries to make and he knew both were going to be just as frustratingly difficult to deal with.
By the time he finished the deliveries and got an earful from another customer about the cost of the apples, Tucker was done. Despite knowing that he was worth a hell of a lot more than any of the people he had to deal with,
it grated on him to be treated like a lowly servant at their beck and call. He swung the truck back onto the street in front of Bad Apple Cafe and pulled into a parking spot about a block down.
He hopped from the truck and strode toward the place where he didn’t feel like an outsider. He got a few yards from the door when he stopped in his tracks. A sweet ass was greeting him as a woman bent over one of the outdoor tables to grab a plate and stack it on her tray.
“Damn, baby. With an ass like that you could do a whole lot more than wait on tables,” he rumbled, coming up behind her.
The woman swung around, her arm raised to slap his face. He grabbed her wrist just in time to prevent her from connecting.
Bright green eyes clashed with his and he smirked as he looked her up and down.
“Well, well, well. Olivia Vivienne Marsten.” His smirk grew bigger. “Weren’t you just gracing the tabloids for getting into a drunken brawl?”
“I don’t know who you think you are,” the redhead spit at him, “but you can back the fuck up.” She punctuated the final words with a poke at his chest as she yanked her wrist from his grasp.
“I guess that hair isn’t all that’s fiery about you,” Tuck murmured, backing up barely half a step.
She glared at him, swinging around and grabbing the tray she’d loaded up with dirty dishes, she moved to stalk past him.
Tucker moved with her, grabbing and opening the door for her before she could adjust her load and do it herself. “After you, Red,” he said with a grin.
She tossed her ponytail at him as she went right past like it was his job to hold the door for her.
“Hey, Lola,” Tucker greeted as he walked in behind the social princess.
“Tuck! I’m afraid the pies are still baking. Do you have time to stick around?” Lola asked.
Tucker looked at the woman whose spitfire attitude made him want to poke at her until she went up in flames. “Yeah,” he answered. “I think I can stick around for a bit. How about one of those apple pecan salads and a sandwich? I’m feeling a bit hungry.”
“You got it!” Lola said from behind the counter. “Livy, come back here with those dishes and I’ll show you how to put together Tuck’s sandwich.”
Tuck grinned as he moved to sit at one of the small tables in the middle of the place. He could practically feel the glare of her annoyance directed his way. As he sat down, he shifted to adjust the pressure of his jeans on his cock. The fiery redhead was a hell of a lot of fun to tease. He wondered if she was as feisty in bed. He was willing to bet she was a firecracker.
Chapter Two
“He has a special sandwich?” Olivia muttered under her breath as she pasted a smile on her face and walked around the counter to where Lola was already pulling together the man’s salad.
“Tuck’s one of our suppliers. He brings us the apples and cider,” Lola explained.
Great, Olivia thought. I’m being jerked around by the delivery boy.
The truth was, Olivia was more than a little bitter about her rapid fall from grace. Two days ago she’d been drinking at the Plaza in her apartment that overlooked Central Park. Now she was living in a one bedroom flat in Tribeca. As a society princess, she’d had every door open to her. And having access to her father’s bank accounts had paved the way for her to amass everything her heart desired. Now she was wearing her hair in a ponytail and building sandwiches for delivery boys.
Okay, he was definitely not a boy. He was very much all man. He had muscles she would love to see slick with sweat and feel wrapped around her. She had a thing for bodybuilders. Those big muscles and tight abs? Mmmm, yes please, she thought. She stole a glance in his direction and saw he was watching her with that smirk.
She glared and turned her attention back to Lola. Something about the man was setting her off in all the right and wrong places.
“Livy! Are you paying attention?” Lola asked.
“Yes,” Olivia answered. She hadn’t been, but how hard could it be?
“Here,” Lola said, thrusting the sandwich and salad at her. “Take it to Tuck and then get the rest of the tables cleared off. I have to go check the pies.”
Olivia took the items and nodded. She was exhausted already and it was barely past one. She had another five hours to go according to her schedule.
“Here’s your salad and sandwich,” she said as she dropped them on the table.
“You know, you should probably work on your customer service a little more. Maybe a smile?” He raised a brow at her and she rolled her eyes.
She pursed her lips into the smile she used for the red carpet and batted her lashes at him. “Is that better?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. Those blue irises of his seemed to look straight through her. “You might fool a few people with that, but I can see the fakeness. Don’t worry, you’ll get better as soon as you start enjoying yourself.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “Have some of Lola’s pie. That should sweeten you up.”
She scowled at him and swung around with a huff. Sweeten her up? Really? Ugh!
She was perfectly sweet when she wanted to be. In fact, she could be downright angelic if the situation called for it. Her current situation did not call for sweetness or anything like it. She was pissed. And she would remain pissed until her father got off his high horse about learning whatever lesson he thought she needed to learn. When she got her Plaza apartment back and her platinum credit cards, she would be much happier.
She stalked back behind the counter to grab the rag and spray bottle needed to clean the tables. She hadn’t cleaned up after herself for years, much less other people until this mess. Damn Destiny Diamond. The slutty little popstar wannabe had been trash-talking her all night. A few shots of tequila beyond cosmos and the bottle of pink champagne and Olivia had been ready to take the bitch down. It was unfortunate that the club had decided to allow a reporter inside that night. Catching her and Destiny’s catfight on film was worth gold to the tabloids.
But while Destiny still had her status, Olivia had been kicked down to nothing. Even her favorite designer bags had been taken away from her. She’d been allowed to keep one wallet, a handful of clothes by the lesser designers, and her phone. Her father had sent his assistant to rent and outfit her a “normal” apartment for any other twenty-six year old trying to start a life in New York City.
She’d been tossed out of the car with her box of clothes - not even a suitcase or bag, given a key, and told that she had one month to prove she could be a better person. Then Gerald, her driver, had driven away. She’d been gaping like an idiot after the car when a strange old woman came up to her and tapped her on the chin.
“Chin up, girly. You’ll catch flies if you stand there like that.”
Olivia had snapped her mouth closed and turned to tell the woman off when she was interrupted before she could start talking.
“Don’t worry, Olivia. I saw Megan earlier today. She told me all about what happened. I’m Sister Mary Agnes. Well, I suppose I’m actually not a Sister anymore. But I still help people out on occasion when they need to learn a thing or two.” The woman was shorter than Olivia with greying hair and a giant smile on her face.
Olivia had stared after her as she climbed the stairs to the building where her new apartment was located.
“Come on, girly. I don’t have all day to spend getting you settled. I have to get to the Bingo hall to set up for our weekly senior night games.”
Olivia had hurried up the stairs after her and in less than three hours she’d been set up in her apartment, shown around the neighborhood so she could find groceries and a few places to eat, and had a job that she would start the next day. Mary Agnes had left her after that, and Olivia had spent the remainder of her day and evening wondering just how the woman had arranged her in such a short time without ever seeming to blink or take a breath.
“Hey, Red,” the deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes?” she asked, working to
keep her eyes from straying over to the table where he sat. Damn the man for being exactly the type to make her want to fuck him.
“How’d you end up here? I imagine you’re more used to living it up on Park Avenue, not cleaning up tables in Tribeca.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder as she stood up and moved to the next table. She watched as he took a bite of his salad. A bit of dressing caught on his lip and she nearly groaned as his tongue came out to swipe it away. Damn. She glared at him instead. “Do you always come across as an ass?” she asked.
He grinned. “Nope. In fact, some people even like me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure how that’s even possible.”
“Don’t worry, Red. Stick around here long enough and I’ll grow on you.”
“Like mold?” she countered. She caught his gaze raking over her again and decided she might as well tease him a bit. If he was even half as interested as she was, a little tease would work him up like she was. How could someone piss her off and turn her on at the same time? She almost snorted at the thought. Instead, she purposefully bent over the table beside his, pushing out her ass toward him as she stretched to wipe off the crumbs.
She grinned as she heard him shift in his seat. There. At least she knew he was uncomfortable. Now if she could just get him out of the little cafe, she could go back to focusing on more important things: namely, getting her father to give back her credit cards and apartment.
“Livy!” Lola’s voice called out from the back of the kitchen.
“Coming,” Olivia called back. She stood and turned to find Tucker had finished his food while she was busy taunting him. “Here,” she said, setting the bottle and rag on his table. “I think you can manage to clean up after yourself. You look like it’s not foreign to you.” She snarked at him, her lips twisting into a smirk as she sashayed past him.
“Keep it up, Red.” She stopped as he came up behind her just before she got to the counter. “Waving your ass at me is just asking for it to be smacked.” He uttered the words low and she could feel the vibration of them against her skin as he leaned around her to set his dishes on the counter.
