Take the Honey and Run: Sweet & Dirty BBW MC Romance, Book #6 (Sweet&Dirty BBW MC Romance)

by Cathryn Cade

He called Manda and told her to order up a couple of extra-large pizzas. She asked if they could have salad with that, and he told her to order whatever, he and Moke were buying.

  The weekends always brought a crowd to the Flyers' clubhouse. With the fine week he'd had, a woman in his bed and JJ feeling better, T-Bear was glad to see every one of his brothers and their women, and the various friends of the club who wandered in.

  Pete and Rocker were there, and both brought their ladies. Manda was a little shy with the sisters, but T was pleased to see they took her right into their circle.

  Moke was there, alone as usual, but he had his eye on a new gal with long black hair in a red dress.

  Keys Younger rolled in, laid back as always with his silver hair in a braid and his pretty redhead Kit Weeks on his arm. She somehow managed to look both sexy and weird in a low-cut purple flowered top, her tight jeans tucked into bright yellow cowgirl boots. She was wearing a necklace that looked sort of like one of them slave collars.

  T didn't care about the jewelry and shit women liked to hang on themselves but seeing Kit did make him wonder if Manda liked jewelry. She never wore any, but then maybe her ex-hole had taken that too.

  That was okay, T would buy her some new stuff. He'd take her shopping after he got his next paycheck, and get her a pretty necklace to wear. One that he could look at and know he gave her that.

  "Idaho's here," someone called to the newcomers. "Part of 'em, anyway."

  "Hey, Keys.” Rocker lifted an arm in greeting. "Good to see you, brother. Gotta tell you though, Kit's so pretty these days she makes you look ugly."

  "Nah," Keys returned with a smile. "She makes me look smart as hell to catch her."

  Kit gave him a kiss and moved off to greet her bestie, Sara, Stick's woman.

  Keys grabbed a beer and pulled out a chair. "Where's Moran?" Pete asked.

  "Probably still at Stingers," Keys said. "Then he'll be home for the night. Got a baby on the way, and all Lindi wants to do after work at her BeeHive cafe is sleep."

  "Whoa," Pete said. "Just opened the new supper club, and now they’re gonna have a kid too? I remember when the twins were little. They're gonna forget what sleep feels like."

  "Nah, 'cause they have Remington as manager. He knows the restaurant biz inside and out." He said this with quiet pride, which T got, as Remi Redhawk was the third member of Keys'... what, triple? Trio? Whatever, it worked for them, so it was fine with T and the rest of the brothers.

  "How's your business goin'?" T asked. "Doing any good rebuilds now?"

  "Yeah, a '69 'Cuda." Keys told them about the car and the owner's plans for it.

  Talk moved on to motorcycles, and kinda downhill from there as the beer, whiskey and tequila flowed, and a few joints were passed around.

  "See you got a new woman?" Keys asked T, with a friendly smile for Manda, who helped Streak serve up a couple of fresh pitchers of Pete's beer, and stopped to let T give her a kiss.

  She went off with the ladies again, which he liked 'cause he knew she was happy and safe from anyone hitting on her.

  "Yep," T said happily. "My honey girl. She's somethin'."

  "Only one question," Rocker said, shaking his head sadly. "What the fuck does she see in you, Bear?"

  The others all laughed uproariously. T flipped them off, and then slammed his fist on the table, making the glassware jump. "She's hot for me. Why, just this mornin', she told me I got sexy armpits."

  There was a second of silence at their table as his brothers digested this.

  Then Pete, scowling like Thor in battle, leapt out of his chair. "The hell?" the big blond biker demanded, and ripped open his western shirt, hauling it off along with his cut. "This, this is what sexy armpits look like."

  He flexed his muscular arms, and feminine catcalls were heard from the ladies' table. T laughed so hard he snorted beer up his nose.

  Pete turned to face the women. "Yeah? Yeah? Now that's what sexy looks like, ain't it, ladies?"

  "Rocker, show 'em, lover!" Billie shrieked.

  Rocker shook his head, and T-Bear and Moke began pounding the table. "Rocker, Rocker."

  With a sigh, the dark-haired biker climbed to his feet, dispensed with his cut, and then his long sleeved tee. He was leaner than Pete, but no less cut, with dark hair curling on his chest.

  "T-Bear, get up!" Manda called. "Show these guys who's the boss."

  "The pit boss!" Lesa yelled. Billie high-fived her, and all the women dissolved in laughter.

  "Well, if you're gonna do this, do it right," Keys said, pointing at the open area near the old ladies' table. "Get over there. You get sixty seconds to flex, then they gotta vote."

  "Here we come, baby," T hollered to Manda. He followed Rocker and Pete over to the open area.

  Pete struck a dramatic pose that had the women giggling like teenagers.

  Rocker took another stance.

  T moved forward to clasp his hands behind his head, suck in his abs and wink at Manda. She fanned herself dramatically with her hands, her brown eyes eating him up. Which meant his biceps weren't the only part of him flexing.

  By now everyone in the big room was watching, other men calling insults, women whistling and applauding. There were a few smart phones out too, flashes going off.

  "Put 'em down!" Bouncer roared. "Stinkin' the whole club up."

  "That's you, Bounce," Rocker called back. "I smell sexy as fuck!"

  The women shrieked their approval of this.

  Keys moved to flank the three bikers, hands out for quiet. "Okay, vote!" he hollered. "Pete."

  Lesa shot her hands in the air, and made a kissy face at Pete, giggling. A couple of unattached women raised their hands in the crowd, but Keys ignored them

  "Rocker."

  Billie shot to her feet, waving both hands, giving Rocker a look that would melt steel.

  "T-Bear!"

  Manda climbed onto her chair, both hands in the air. Her soft brown eyes were alight with heat and laughter, and she gave T-Bear a special little smile that said they both knew how much she liked what he was showing her.

  "We need a tie-breaker" Keys called. "Who we got? Has to be an old lady of the club."

  He looked to Darlene and Velvet at a table with their men. Snake gave Darlene a glare that had her shaking her head quickly.

  Velvet just laughed and waved her smart-phone. "I can't vote, I'm busy recording this for club history," she announced.

  "Great idea," Lesa called back. "I want copies!"

  T was ready to grab Manda and another beer, but Billie, Manda and Lesa were adamant. They wanted a winner.

  "Sara!" They decided. The first old lady, who'd been relaxing with a drink, laughing at the three guys, looked horrified.

  "No, I can't vote!" she protested.

  "You have to," Kit told her. "You're the first old lady, shit like this is your job."

  Sara gave her a dirty look. Then she smiled craftily, and stood, holding up her hands for quiet. "Okay, here's my vote. Pete, one-third of a point. Rocker and T-Bear, each receive one-third of my vote too."

  "Boo!" Lesa called loudly.

  "Stick!" Kit called as the Flyers' president strolled into the room. "You break the tie."

  Stick merely gave her a look of incredulous disgust and shook his head. Then he grabbed a bottle from a table, Sara's hand in the other, and pulled her to her feet. "I got better things to do. Like my woman."

  Snake and a few other brothers whistled and stomped at this.

  "Rocker, you can still win!" Billie called. "Show 'em your ass, handsome."

  The Flyers' vice-president gave her a slow grin. "Baby, I can only do that if you want 'em all to see my cock, 'cause your sexy, drunk cheerleader routine's got me ready to go. C'mere, an' we'll go find someplace where I can show my appreciation."

  Her eyes widened, and she turned a pretty shade of dusky rose, but she shot out of her chair and went to him.

  "Now there's an idea," Pete said, eying his woman. "I feel like
a winner." Lesa blushed just like her sister, but she crooked her finger, beckoning him to her.

  "Me too," T agreed, and headed for Manda, who was still standing on her chair. He forgot his shirt where he'd dropped it, but then so did Rocker and Pete.

  T was interrupted in his progress when a slim redhead inserted herself in his path. Tossing her hair back, she gave him a sultry look and put her hand on his groin. Whoa. "Hey, big guy. That was hot. Want me to show you how hot?"

  He recognized her. Misti was a friend of Krystelle's. The two of them had put on a strip show here at the club one memorable night. Didn't matter, he wasn't interested.

  "Nope." He pulled her hand off of his junk. Manda was scowling at the other woman's back, looking ready to leap off her chair and take the redhead down—which he wouldn't mind seeing, but not right now. "Got a woman, and even if I didn't, don't like bitches who hang out with lyin', thievin' bitches."

  Her face turned red and she shoved away through the crowd.

  He didn't watch her go. He made his way to Manda, and put his hands on her waist, soft and firm. "Jump on, honey girl," he invited.

  She did, her arms around his neck, her thighs clasping his hips, and her eyes full of heat and laughter.

  "You should've won," she told him.

  "Where I'm standing, I did," he replied, and started walking, carrying her through the crowd of Flyers and friends like they weren't even there. And it was true, especially when he got her into his bedroom.

  Then, it was winner take all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  * * *

  Sunday, however, things started to go south.

  And when they did, they went fast.

  The day began with Manda waking up with a hot, heavy man plastered to her back, snoring in her ear. They were naked, in bed... and Manda felt like crap. Her head ached, although in a different way from earlier in the week. Her mouth was dry and tasted bad, like something had crawled in there and died, and her stomach was in no better shape.

  She thought back to the beer she'd drunk, and then the cinnamon shots with the old ladies that had seemed like such a great idea at the time. In retrospect, worst idea ever.

  With all of this, she did not need a giant man-furnace snuggled up to her.

  To make matters worse, when she came back from the bathroom, and dragged on a pair of yoga pants and T's Mariners' tee, so she could get to the kitchen and make coffee, her phone was buzzing and lighting up. T slept on, oblivious as Manda grabbed up her phone and squinted at the screen.

  It was her mother.

  Manda should have ignored the call, and returned it later when she felt better. But instead, she answered it, and carried her phone with her as she headed across the hall and into the kitchen.

  Since none of the other Flyers or women were up at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, she had to snap the lights on. The instant she did, she wished she hadn't.

  The big kitchen was a mess. The remains of their pizza supper littered the big table. The counters were littered with empty take-out containers, chip bags, dirty glasses and plastic cups, two half-empty booze bottles, and a bright red bra.

  She didn't even want to know what that bra was doing in here.

  Manda headed for the coffee maker, phone to her ear. "Hi, mom."

  "It's about damn time I got hold of you," Arliss Kowitsky snapped, interrupted only by a hacking smoker's cough that took a moment. "Wouldn't even have known you was alive if I hadn't run into that friend of yours in the grocery store. What's her name—Louie or Lois or something?”

  "Her name is Chloe." Manda opened the cupboard and got out the bag of coffee and filter. “And I texted you my new phone number, which I couldn’t do if I wasn’t alive.”

  “Huh. She told me you're up in Spokane, of all places, and with another man." She said this last the way one might say 'another STI '.

  "Yes, I am with another guy," Manda said defensively. "Seeing as how Tim dumped me, leaving me with one of his friends who turned out to be a sociopath. T-Bear rescued me, and—"

  "T-Bear?" her mother repeated. "What kinda name is that? He some kinda pro-wrestler, or something?"

  "What?" Manda rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "No, he's an auto-mechanic. T's just his nickname."

  Arliss snorted. "Well, least this one has a job. You better hustle and get a job yourself, one you can hold onto, so when he pulls some crap, which they all do sooner or later, you can take care of yourself."

  The coffee filter crushed in Manda's hand. "Yes, mom. I'm looking for a job. I don't expect him to take care of me."

  "You better not, 'cause you can't trust this one to stay anymore 'n you could that Tim," her mother pointed out, already on her way down a path so deeply rutted and familiar, Manda knew she would not be diverted, so didn't even try. "I coulda told you that one was just like your father, only you never listen to me. You'd have kept that job cleaning the hotel, and not taken up with him, you'd still have money and your car. Now what've you got? Nothin', just another man to pick up after and try to sweeten up, that's all."

  Manda selected a new filter, poured in coffee grounds, and started the coffee maker, her mother's words pouring into her ear, stinging but in such a familiar way that she kept listening, instead of doing what she should have done, which was to hang up the phone.

  "And don't think you're gonna come and camp in my place when this don't work out," her mother finished sourly. "'Cause I'm barely scraping by as it is. Can't carry a grown daughter too."

  "Don't worry, I know that," Manda said, wishing she was still in bed so she could pull the covers over her head.

  Instead she leaned against the counter, eyes closed, and rubbed her aching forehead. Most people her age knew that if things got tough they could always go home until they got their feet back under them. But not her.

  And that said, why the heck was she listening to the woman?

  “Did you want something?” she asked. “Or did you just call to bitch at me, since that’s all I’ve heard so far?”

  "Well!" Arliss huffed, "That’s gratitude for you. After all the years I—”

  "Bye, mom." Manda ended the call, and pressed her lips together to still their quivering. "Great talking to you as always.”

  “Next time, don't answer the phone, Manda,” she said to herself. “Just... don't answer her.”

  Best idea she’d had yet this morning. And she had the whole day to go. Who knew where her new mojo might take her?

  The only answer was the cheerful sputter of the coffee maker. Needing a distraction—any kind of distraction—Manda brought up her 'angry girl' music station on her phone, got a mug down to pour herself a much-needed cup of coffee.

  Then, singing along to Pink, she got to work cleaning up enough of the stove-top that she could make herself breakfast. The garbage can was overflowing , but not her problem. Nor were the empties and the sticky countertops.

  She hadn’t made the mess, she wasn’t cleaning up the mess.

  T stumbled in several songs later, his hair wet and wild as if he'd tried to subdue it with water, and failed. He'd washed his face as well. A trickle of water was running down his collarbone, and his face was flushed. He wore only a pair of old work pants, but at least they were clean.

  Having cleared the table of debris and washed it, because she couldn't bring herself to eat with garbage next to her plate, Manda was mixing eggs to scramble, along with toast.

  T poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Mornin', babe," he croaked.

  "Morning." She cracked a couple of extra eggs into the bowl, and added two more pieces of bread to the toaster.

  She plunked his plate down in front of him, sat down and started on her own breakfast. He nudged her foot with his under the table. "Hey, you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she said, taking another bite of buttered toast.

  "Huh. When a woman says that, don't it usually mean she’s the opposite?" His deep voice was wry,
but she could feel him watching her.

  "You're the expert, you tell me." She forked up another bite of eggs, and then let it drop to her plate.

  She was no longer hungry. Maybe it was the big, hot lump in her middle. It felt a lot like dread. Shoving the plate away, she cradled her mug in her hands and sipped hot coffee.

  "Oo-kay," he said. "Talk later then." He put his head down and ate.

  Manda wrinkled her nose, guilt like an unpleasant taste on her tongue. “Sorry. My mother called. Always leaves me in a crappy mood.”

  He looked up, chewing a mouthful, but his eyes focused entirely on her. “Not a good convo?”

  She snorted. “You could say that. She… she basically wanted to remind me that I’m a huge screw-up, and that’s why bad things happened to me. Oh, and not to even think about coming back home, because she doesn’t have the—the room or the time for me.”

  He was silent. then he slammed his fork down on his plate with such force that bits of egg flew into the air. “Sorry, ‘cause she’s your ma, but I gotta say, honey girl, the woman sounds like a fuckin’ bitch.”

  Manga opened her mouth to say Arliss certainly could be one, but he wasn’t done.

  “She’s lucky enough to have a daughter like you, pretty and sweet an’ hardworkin’—where the hell’s she get off, treatin’ you like that? Cheezus, all the parents whose kids treat ‘em like shit, steal from ‘em, ignore ‘em, and she gets you, an’ then acts like you ain’t good enough to walk in her door? Well, fuck that!”

  Manda stared at him, her mouth open, her heart swelling painfully in her chest. “Um, that’s basically what my best friend Chloe says,” she said. “Although without the cursing.”

  He nodded. “Glad you got a friend like that. She’s right, an’ so am I. And anyway, don’t worry about that shit, ‘cause you don’t need her. You got a place here while you need it, and friends, and you’re smart and tough. You’ll do fine.”

  Manda nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Hey, don’t thank me, thank my ma. She raised me right. Done it by herself and worked too. But she always had time for me. We had some good times.”

  He shoveled in another bite and chewed. “You gotta meet her. She’ll love you. Loves jawin’ on the phone too. She’ll talk your ear off, all about recipes and clothes and shit.”