Take the Honey and Run: Sweet & Dirty BBW MC Romance, Book #6 (Sweet&Dirty BBW MC Romance)
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He shot out of his chair. It banged to the floor, and he grabbed for the fastening of his jeans, trying to yank them down and off. "Fuck, you burned me!"
Manda scuttled backward, still clutching the nearly empty cup, her other hand clamped on her burned wrist, her eyes and mouth wide. She was shaking her head, her heart pounding, sweat breaking out all over her skin. "No... I-I didn't mean to..."
Stick Vanko appeared in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene in an instant. "There a problem here?"
"The bitch burned my pecker!" Cooler howled, clutching himself and bent over, his pants now around his ankles.
He unfortunately went commando, which meant his ass was on view. The tattoo on his left butt cheek was so odd Manda stared, before yanking her gaze back to the Flyers' president, who was watching her, not Cooler.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "It was an accident."
"I saw. Cooler, get some cold water on that. If you got blisters that need seen to, I'll drive you in myself."
The biker stumbled to the door, holding his pants up with one hand. He turned a vengeful stare on Manda, who cowered back against the kitchen counter behind her.
"Maybe you didn't hear," Stick told went on, angling his very big, tall body to urge Cooler out the kitchen door. "Manda was roughed up, ended up in the hospital. That's why she's here—under club protection. She's jittery, but meant no offense. Right, Manda?"
Manda nodded quickly. "I'm sorry," she said again, tears filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry."
With a muttered curse, Cooler disappeared.
"You get burned too?" Stick asked, giving a nod to Manda’s wrist. "Best run some cold water on that."
Not wanting to turn her back on the big room just now, she stood with her side against the sink and reached with one hand to turn on the tap. Luckily, while a patch of skin on her wrist was reddened and painful, it didn't look as if it would blister. A bag of frozen peas held on it with a wet towel abated the sting a lot.
No way was she going anywhere near that creep Cooler, to offer him a bag of frozen veggies.
She was embarrassed, but also pissed off. How dare that biker put his hand up there on her thigh? Like he didn't have to ask, just take. He’d almost touched her privates! She wouldn't even want T-Bear to do that in public.
Maybe it was wrong, but she wasn't sorry she'd spilled that coffee on him. Not one bit.
"Saw what happened," Stick told her, lingering in the doorway. "I'll make sure Cooler understands this ends here. You want someone to look at your arm?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."
"Da, good enough. Frozen veggies is a good idea, I'll get a bag for Cooler." He did—a jumbo size—and then strode off, to get on with ruling his biker brethren—who were not all as nice and well-behaved as she'd convinced herself.
Manda waited only until he was gone. Then she bolted into her borrowed bedroom, shut and locked the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
* * *
Arriving at the clubhouse for lunch, T-Bear was disappointed to find no Manda in the kitchen, looking pretty and whipping up a hot meal.
Stick was there, drinking a cup of coffee with Bouncer while they leaned against the counter. Stick looked to T-Bear and jerked his head to join them.
"What's up?" T asked, the short hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Manda okay?"
"Da. Had a little incident, though." Stick related the story of Cooler's burn injury.
By the end, T was steaming himself. "I'll have a few words with him. Grabbing her by the pussy—not fuckin' happening!"
Stick held up a hand. "T-Bear, brother. Step back and think. He's already suffered, ah, consequences." His voice quivered as he said this last.
Bouncer shook his head regretfully. "I'd a given money to see it, too."
Stick tipped his head down, and chuckled. "It was quite a sight. He was hoppin around trying to get his pants down. When he did, it all hung out. Manda's eyes got big as silver dollars."
T-Bear snorted. "I'd been there, he'd be wearin' the entire pot of coffee. Guess he ain't feelin' so cool now, huh?"
Bouncer laughed. "Might have ta change his handle. Call him Hotter, instead o' Cooler."
"Yeah," T managed as the humor of the situation overcame his anger. "Harry Hotter."
Bouncer bent forward at the waist, guffawing—because even aging bikers knew the boy wizard—and T joined in. Stick laughed too.
Then T went to check on his woman, and make sure she was okay, and not hiding out, too scared to come out of her room.
She answered his knock by coming to the door, but not opening it. "Manda?" he said. "It's me. You okay, baby?"
The door unlocked, and she opened it and let him in. She looked fine. "Hi," she said. "Sorry your lunch isn't ready. I was reading."
"That's good," he told her, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Whatcha readin'?"
She pulled her lips to one side. "Oh... just a romance."
"Yeah?" That sounded intriguing, 'specially the way she wouldn't look him in the eye as she said it. "Good story? Anything I'd like?"
"Huh?"
He waggled his brows at her. "Yeah, you could read me your favorite parts, and then we could act 'em out."
She blew out a breath, reaching up to rub her cheek. "Uh, that'd be a no. Unless you have a spaceship parked out back. It's sci fi romance."
He didn't answer, his gaze fastened on her raised wrist. "Fuck. This where you got burned?" he demanded, tipping his head to peer at the back of her slim wrist. An angry, red patch marred her pale, freckled skin. "I'ma pound that ass-wipe Cooler into the ground."
She moved in, planting her palms on his chest. "T-bear, no. I'm fine, honest. I'm more embarrassed than anything."
T set his hands where he liked them best, on her ass, and gave her a squeeze. "He's the one should be embarrassed, not you."
"Well, don't pound him. Stick was there, and he handled it."
"Still gonna have a word. I'm pissed, and you should be too."
"Oh, I am," she said. Then, her soft lips twitched. She leaned up on her tiptoes, her eyes twinkling. "You want to know what’s weird about Cooler?"
"Everything?" But he shook his head, smiling back at her.
"He has a big tattoo of an actual cooler on his ass," she breathed. "I swear. It's green-and-white. Have you ever?"
T-Bear chuckled, because she obvs hadn't, till today, but he had. "Yeah, baby, that's how he got his club handle. Went campin' one weekend, had him a cooler of his favorite beer, got wasted and came back with that tattoo. Dumbest thing I ever saw."
"I know, right? It's not very attractive, that's for sure. Of course, not much about him is. He's dirty, he stinks, and he's rude."
T sighed. "Yeah, he's been lettin' himself go lately—trouble with that ex of his, prob'ly. I'll still have a word, though. No one, even my brothers, disrespects you. Now, you wanna go get us some tacos over at the drive-thru, and eat 'em in the back of my truck? We can sit there and watch traffic go by on the main drag." He waggled his brows.
She laughed, as he meant her to. "Who says small town life isn't exciting, huh? I'd love to do that. Hey, maybe you could drive me by the Flying Bean, just so I can get a look at it. They have an opening for a barista. I could do that."
Because her eyes were shining with excitement, he nodded emphatically. "Yeah, you could. And it's just down the street from JJ's, so I could order Moke and me up a fancy coffee every day, and flirt with the pretty barista. They dress you up in naughty flight attendant outfits there, y'know."
She swatted his arm."Oh, they do not. I looked at their website, and they wear cute tees with jeans or whatever."
"Well, they should. Get more biker biz that way."
She laughed again. "Now I'm picturing you guys riding your bad-ass Harleys down the road while sipping lattes." She mimed this, scowling to one side and then the other while lifting an imaginary cup to her lips, pinky extended.
"Hey, Flyers got plenty of mojo to do all that if we want, and keep our badass mojo intact."
As they walked through the main club room, Manda saw Streak’s laptop still on the bar. “Oh, no,” she said, running to retrieve it. “I promised Streak I’d take good care of this.”
She hurried to stow it in her room, and then rejoined T.
They drove into town, shared a tasty taco lunch, and then he drove her past the Flying Bean.
Set just off the main drag in the empty space between the highway and the parking lot of an insurance agency, the Flying Bean was cute, a miniature house just big enough so that one or two baristas could move about inside or sit down to rest between orders. Windows were set on both sides, sliding open to serve customers who drove alongside, or walked up.
The building itself was sky blue, with puffy white clouds. Against this backdrop, a stubby red plane flew, a coffee bean piloting from the open cockpit. The bean pilot had an old-fashioned pilot's helmet set over long, painted curls, and a lipsticked smirk on her face.
Red, white and blue neon twinkled around the sign—a board with the words, Flying Bean painted in red and mounted on the peaked roof.
T had planned to stop and buy them both a coffee, so Manda could meet the owner and maybe even set up an interview, but the place was closed. Looked like the place truly did need more help.
Instead, he drove her the long way back to the clubhouse so she could see Stick and Sara's place, and some of the countryside around Airway Heights.
The grass on the roadsides was greening up nice, and he noted a few flowers alongside country houses.
Man, he loved spring. This coming weekend, he'd get his Harley out, give Manda a nice, long ride. She'd like that, and he'd love to ride with her arms wrapped around him and her soft thighs cradling his ass.
Oh, yeah.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
* * *
That night, T lay back in his bed, one bare arm folded behind his head, nothing on but a smile as Manda puttered around the room, putting away his clean clothing.
They'd come in here after watching a kinda sexy movie on Netflix, and he'd been in such a hurry to kiss her up and and strip her down, he hadn't even noticed the floor in here was clear of mess, the bed made.
They’d just had a round of awesome sex, in which he'd once again tried to hold out for more than five minutes while she used her mouth on his cock, and failed spectacularly. But since this meant he'd grabbed a condom, donned it at light speed and then fucked her until they both came long and hard, neither of them cared.
Now, happy as a pig in warm mud,he lay on his back, and noticed that his room looked really good.
"You didn't have to do my laundry," he told her. "But I'm damn glad you did. Smells nice in here, too. Or maybe that's just you."
She gave him a look over her shoulder. "The nice smell is laundry soap, and the absence of dirty tees, socks and pants. I counted, and you have twenty-five tees. Do you just buy new ones instead of washing the old ones?"
"Nah. A guy goes places, they give you a tee. Like the one you got on. Went on a run over to Seattle, took in a game while we was there, got a tee-shirt." A Mariners tee that turned out to be too small for him, but was still like a dress on her. She looked cute as a bug in a rug, as his mom would say. "An' at least part of the nice smell in here is your pussy."
She rolled her eyes. Then she closed the bureau drawer on his socks, and turned toward the bed. She had a kind of funny look on her face. "What?" he asked, grinning.
She bit her lower lip and hunched her shoulders. Then she came over to the bed, and started crawling up from the foot toward him. "You have really sexy, um, under-arms," she told him. "So I like it when you lie like that. That's what."
That tickled him. He'd never thought about what a woman might think of his armpits. Biceps, yeah, and chest, but not armpits.
He chuckled and kept on doing so as he crooked his knees up, using his bare feet to trap her between his legs on her hands and knees.
He liked her there—he could see down the gapping vee-neck of the tee, and she was poised right above his cock, which was getting interested all over again.
He lifted his other arm up and put that hand behind his head, waggling his brows at her. "How's that? Even sexier?"
She smiled, but then nodded, her cheeks going rosy. "Uh-huh. I'm serious. Your arms are so big, and muscular, and you have those wide muscles over your ribs. And ginger curls in the middle of your armpit. Plus, under-arms are kind of... intimate. You don't care if anyone sees them, but you don't go around showing them to everyone, right?"
"Yeah, 'cause they'd prob'ly think I was frickin' nuts if I did."
She snickered. "Probably. Oh, God, now you have me picturing you and Moke, at the garage."
She sat up on her knees, and spoke in a deep voice. "So, hey, how ya doin'? I'm Moke." At this, she raised her right arm, bent behind her head, and pulled her sleeve away to flash her armpit.
"Yeah, and I'm T-Bear." She repeated the gesture with her left arm. "So, who ya want to work on your truck? Him or me?"
At the look on his face, she collapsed on him, both of them laughing so hard she bounced on his chest.
"That was great," he told her when he could speak. "You put that on video, it'd go viral."
"Nah, 'cause no one would get it except you and me," she told him, wiping her eyes. She crawled up over him, and tapped his forehead. "Just keep it here, where you can enjoy it."
He slid his arms up around her. "Oh, I will." Along with a lot of other things, like the way she looked riding him like a cowgirl, the way she smelled, the feel of her in his arms, all silky skin, warm curves and silky hair. Her big brown eyes, and those pillowy lips... fuck, he didn't want to remember her.
He wanted to keep her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
* * *
Saturday was one of the best days T-Bear had in a long time.
He woke with Manda in his arms, which meant the first thing he did was smile. The second thing was slide his hand under his tee, the one she now wore to sleep in, and palm her warm, silky ass. The third was to pull her up over him, warm and sleepy, and introduce her to his morning wood.
Turned out she liked being woke up with his fingers between her legs. He rolled her onto her back and fucked her nice and slow and sweet. She liked that even better, and so did he.
After that, he headed off to work. JJ's wasn't open but one Saturday a month, but this was that day.
On his bike, because even early on this March morning, the weather was fine, sunny and smelling of dirt and growing things. Little puffy clouds in a blue sky overhead, the sun just peeking over the Idaho mountains to the east. It felt real good to be riding with the wind in his beard.
At JJ's, a Caddy with Seattle plates was parked in front of the shop, and the lights were on inside. Since he recognized the car, T didn't suspect a burglary in progress or anything, but he was plenty worried. He parked his bike, Moke pulled in beside him. They exchanged a look, and without a word, walked into JJ's office.
JJ's daughter Lateesha sat in the office chair, wearing one of her fancy suits, this one pale pink. Her black hair was braided and rolled up on her head, and she wore full makeup. As they came in, she stood, her face stern.
T's heart nearly stopped. "What?" he demanded without a greeting. Moke stood silently beside him. “He gonna be okay?”
She looked from T to Moke, and back again. Then she smiled slowly. "You really care about him, don't you?"
"Fuck, yeah," Moke said, and T nodded. "JJ's... he's special."
Her smile grew, white teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling. Then she lifted her hands in the air. "Then you'll appreciate the news. Dad's going to be fine."
"No shit?" T blew out a long breath, feelings swirling. "What's wrong with him?"
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"Well, it's not cancer," she said. "He has hyperthyroidism, which means his thyroid gland is overactive . Symptoms are irritability, headaches, weight loss, and extreme fatigue."
Both T and Moke were nodding at this list. All symptoms they’d watched JJ suffer. "Treatable, though, right?" Moke asked.
"Very," she agreed. "Dad will begin taking the meds right away. But, he's also been prescribed lots of rest. At his age... the doctors will be monitoring him carefully. So he won't be in to work for a while."
She eyed them with brows raised in challenge. "Think you can handle the place?"
"'Course we can," T said. "We got this. Long as he needs to rest, you tell him not to worry."
She smiled softly, and a little sadly. "What I’ll be telling him is that it's time for him to let this place go, and retire. Take in more car shows, go fishing, that kind of thing. Enjoy life. I don't want to alarm you, but I would expect that by summer, this place will be up for sale."
"We might have somethin' to say about that," Moke said. "Appreciate if you give us first notice, before you put it on the market. If that's the way things go."
Her brows went up again, this time in surprise. "Really? Well, that is good news. I know Dad would hate to see this place closed down."
"Yeah, we don't need another fuckin' chain outfit in town," T said. "JJ's is a local institution."
She smiled again, this time broadly. "I'll tell him you said so."
T snorted. "Might wanna hold on that. Likely just piss him off."
"Yes, now it probably would," she agreed, grabbing her purse from the desk. "I am looking forward to the meds kicking in, and lifting his moods—hopefully a great deal."
"Only way for his mood to go is up," Moke pointed out dryly.
The three of them shared a chuckle. Then Lateesha held out her hand to each of them, shook, and walked briskly out to her car. They watched her drive away, and then they got to work, to keep the place running for JJ.
Saturday night, T was ready to party.