MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance)

by Claire Branson

  “Absolutely,” Ahanti said. “I’d love to do just a basic butter cookie with it first, to see how the flavor shines on its own. And then it’s a matter of finding the complementary taste that really makes it pop.”

  “It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than my usual honey,” Anders said apologetically. “This guy knows what he’s got, and he’s charging accordingly.”

  “I don’t care,” Ahanti said. “I’ll take every drop you’ve got. My customers are going to love this flavor.”

  “I knew there was a reason I came to see you first,” Anders laughed.

  “Is that the only reason?” Ahanti smiled flirtatiously. She liked the big, blond cowboy, even though their conversations had always been strictly professional.

  “Well.” Anders blushed scarlet, a red flush that appeared inside his neckline and travelled all the way to his forehead. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Ahanti decided to be merciful and turned away from the moment before Anders got any more uncomfortable. “Can I hook you up with some coffee before you go?”

  “Sure,” Anders said. “Black and strong, please.”

  “Just like you like your women,” Ahanti said with a laugh. “No sugar?”

  Anders shook his head. His blush had faded, but not by much. “I’m sweet enough already.”

  Their fingertips didn’t quite touch when she handed him the cup of coffee, but a glance passed between them that let each of them know the other was thinking about it. There was an awkward moment, and then Ahanti said, “So. Um. Yeah. When will you be bringing me that honey?”

  “Would Wednesday morning work for you?” Anders asked.

  Ahanti pouted. “That long? I was looking forward to playing in the kitchen tonight.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Anders said. “Why don’t I leave you with this?” He set the bottle he’d drawn the sample from on the counter. “It’ll be enough to get you started while I finish bottling up the rest.”

  “You are sweet, aren’t you?” Ahanti said. She took the bottle and slid it into her apron pocket. “Thank you for this. I’ll have fun with it.”

  Anders gave her a look that was pure hunger. She wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by pushing any harder. “So I’ll see you Wednesday?”

  He nodded. “A-yup.” He headed toward Sweet Nothing’s front door. “I’ll see you then.” Another tourist couple was headed toward the bakery’s door, and Anders held it open to usher them inside. “Folks, you’re going to want to try the danishes. This woman can bake like a dream.”

  Ahanti went to bed early most nights. Sweet Nothings had a loyal band of customers who would be waiting at the door at 6 am. Making sure they had fresh donuts and pastry to enjoy required Ahanti to get into the bakery’s kitchen shortly after 3 in the morning. Staying up late wasn’t something she really did.

  But tonight, Ahanti couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking through that morning’s interaction with Anders. There was something about the tall cowboy that got to her. He was shy – something that Ahanti definitely was not – and she had the sense it would take a lot to really get him talking about anything besides his beehives.

  Which was a shame, because he really had a gorgeous voice. Lots of men in these parts spoke with a deep Texas drawl, but Anders sounded different. She couldn’t quite place his accent, but it didn’t sound like here. There was no high, dry, sunbaked tone to his voice; instead, listening to Anders talk brought to mind cool green meadows, where the mountain breezes blew and everything was peaceful.

  It was a pleasure to think about Anders in that setting. He’d look good there, with his blond hair and blue eyes. Ahanti liked the fact that Anders was taller than her – most men weren’t – and that he was so built that she didn’t feel gigantic next to him. You wouldn’t think that raising bees was all that physical of an occupation, but the cowboy had some serious muscles on him. And Ahanti could tell he liked his food. Anders’ stomach was a soft curve, perfect for snuggling against. She smiled at the thought. In her experience, men who liked to eat were always better lovers.

  She shook her head. “What am I thinking?” she asked her empty apartment. “There’s no sense going down roads that go nowhere.”

  It was hot, and Ahanti decided that a shower would help her handle her frustrations. She slipped a cap over her short, tight curls and started the water, letting it run while she shed her clothes. The bathroom filled with steam, creating misty clouds that felt like a caress against Ahanti’s ebony skin. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror; dark, with generous, round breasts and a wide set of hips. Turning to the side, just a little, revealed the full curve of her ass; if Anders was ever up for a booty call, she thought, he’d have plenty to work with.

  She stepped into the shower, enjoying the way the water beat against her back. Baking is a physically demanding job. After a day of moving heavy bags of flour and creating cakes, her muscles were sore and tired. The massaging beat felt good. Ahanti could feel the tension melting out of her body.

  The sweet scent of jasmine from her bodywash filled the room. Ahanti slowly and leisurely washed up, letting cascades of white bubbles glide over her body before they puddled at her feet. She took her time washing her breasts, pushing the pouf slowly up and over her heavy curves before pulling them down over her chocolate-colored nipples.

  Inexplicably, during this process, her mind drifted back to Anders. Ahanti smiled. She wouldn’t mind sharing a shower with that cowboy. Just saying that to him would make Anders blush, she knew- and she wondered if he turned red everywhere when he was embarrassed.

  Ahanti’s hands went lower and lower as her thoughts did likewise. She was very curious about what Anders would look like underneath his clothes. Her fingertips had just brushed against her most sensitive bits when she thought about undoing his belt buckle and the zipper on his blue jeans. She bit back a gasp…and then froze, as someone started pounding on her apartment door.

  “Wait! What?” she shouted, jumping out of the shower and hurriedly grabbing for a towel. “Who’s there? What’s going on?”

  There was no answer. The pounding continued while Ahanti quickly dried off and wrapped herself in her robe. She tied the sash tight and went to her door.

  “Who is it?” she shouted. “You’ve got two seconds to answer me or I’m calling the cops!”

  The pounding stopped. “It’s Lav!” There was a pause. “Let me in. I want to talk to you!”

  “Are you crazy?” Ahanti replied. “Do you even know what time it is?”

  There was a long, long pause. And then Ahanti heard Lav’s familiar voice, sounding lost and confused. “No?”

  She opened the door a fraction of an inch. “If I open this door, am I going to regret it?”

  Lav was clearly not entirely sober. He was swaying on his feet. Ahanti could smell the beer on him. “I don’t think so,” he replied. He pulled open his leather jacket, showing Ahanti his waistband. “I left my gun at home.”

  Ahanti, despite everything, laughed. “You do realize that isn’t how you’re supposed to make a girl feel better.” She opened the door wider and leaned against the doorjamb, using her body to block the entranceway to her apartment. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  “I was thinking about when you called me a bad Dad,” Lav said. He looked at her, and his eyes were teary. “That shit aint right. You don’t know how it is with me.”

  “Lav, why don’t you sit down?” Ahanti said. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  The biker nodded, and slumped to the floor on the other side of the hallway. From there, he began to explain how he’d tried, really, really tried, to have relationships with the mothers of his children, but it had just never worked out. “They want me when they want to have a good time,” he groaned, “but for all the rest of it? The love and support thing? Being a family? They don’t want a guy like me for that.”

  “That’s hard, Lav,” Aha
nti said. Her mind was racing. He was obviously in no condition to drive home, and she definitely didn’t feel safe inviting the drunk biker into her apartment. But he couldn’t stay where he was – the last thing Ahanti needed was to irritate her neighbors. Calling the cops wasn’t really a great idea.

  “No one will give me a chance!” Lav wailed. “Like you. I ask you out all the time, and you never say yes. We could go for coffee. We could go to the museum. But you don’t even give me a chance to show you what a nice guy I am.”

  Ahanti sighed. “Because you don’t say “Hey, want to get coffee sometime?” She shook her head. “You act like you’re going to rip my clothes off at the first opportunity.”

  “That’s only because you’re beautiful,” Lav said, waving his hand. “If you were ugly, I’d never act like that.”

  “Gee, that makes it much better.” Ahanti shook her head. “Lav, I’m sorry I made you feel like I thought you were a bad Dad. That’s not what I meant to have happen.”

  Lav looked up at her from the floor. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you out for coffee sometime?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ahanti said. “Why don’t we talk about that when you’re sober?”

  Lav looked up and the look in his eyes was not exactly nice. “I hope you’re ready to wait a while,” he said. He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a silver flask. He unscrewed the top and took a big swig. “Because I’m pretty drunk right now and I’ve got plans to stay that way.”

  Ahanti stepped backwards, and shut her apartment door. She heard Lav mutter “Bitch!” when she slid the chain into place.

  “This is nuts,” she said to herself. She paced through her tiny living room into her kitchen. “What am I going to do?”

  The tiny bottle of honey sitting on the counter caught her eye.

  “I could call Anders,” she said. “He’s tough. He’s smart. He’ll know what to do.” Ahanti laughed to herself when she realized that she didn’t know for a fact any of those three statements were true. “Well, he could bring some bees with him.”

  She called the number on the honey jar label. Anders answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Anders?”

  “Yup?”

  “This is Ahanti.” She paused. “From Sweet Nothings Bake Shop?”

  “I know who you are.” Ahanti could almost hear Anders smiling. “I was just thinking about you.”

  In the hallway outside her apartment, Lav began singing. Ahanti couldn’t quite place the tune, but the word “Fuck” featured prominently in the lyrics. He was loud, and getting louder by the minute.

  “Listen,” she said. “I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Remember the obnoxious guy from my shop this morning?” Anders grunted his assent, and Ahanti continued. “He’s here, outside my door. He’s pissed because I won’t go out with him.”

  “And what’s he doing?” Anders asked.

  “Right now?” Ahanti replied, “he’s singing.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Anders said. “Where do you live?”

  Ahanti gave him her address.

  “It’ll be about ten minutes,” Anders said. “Just sit pretty.”

  “Okay,” Ahanti said. Out in the hallway there was an ominous thump. “Just please hurry. I’m getting scared.”

  “On my way.”

  What followed was the longest five minutes of Ahanti’s life. After Lav finished his song, he stood up. She could hear him walking back and forth in front of her door. “September 19th my daughter Adele was born. She’s my oldest girl. Her brother was born the fourth of July.” Lav knocked against Ahanti’s door once. “That’s one set of kids. Then I had three babies with Maria. Juan Carlos on May 10th, Gregory on February the 11th and Little Maria. Her birthday is… well, fuck. I don’t know when her birthday is. I never seen her since she was two years old. Her mother decided she had all kinds of things she needed to do and took them all back to Mexico with her.” He wailed, a long lonely sound that reminded Ahanti of a wolf baying at the moon. “That was six years ago now.”

  Ahanti opened the door. “Lav. I’m sorry.”

  He stopped his pacing. “It really sucks.” Lav pounded his fist against his chest. “People look at me. They see I ride a motorcycle. They see the tattoos. They think I don’t have a heart. That I don’t feel nothing.” His voice was growing louder with every word. “Even the god damned mother of my children. Do you know what she told me?”

  “No,” Anders said, from the top of the stairs. “Why don’t you tell me what she said?”

  Lav attempted to whirl toward Anders. This would have worked if he wasn’t so drunk, but he was very, very drunk. Instead of whirling, he spun and fell forward, landing flat on his stomach with his head up against the wall.

  “Oh, buddy,” Anders went to Lav’s side. “That looked like it hurt. Are you all right?” He helped Lav sit up. “Dude, you’re bleeding.”

  Lav’s eyes went to Anders’. “Is it bad?”

  Anders shook his head. “It looks like you scratched your forehead pretty good,” he said. “and maybe a couple of stitches wouldn’t hurt.” He glanced up at Ahanti. “Maybe get you checked out for a concussion.”

  “Fuck, man.” Lav struggled to his feet. “I ain’t going to no god damn hospital.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?” Anders asked. “Or we can get you an ambulance.”

  Lav raised his fingers to his forehead, feeling his wound. It was only a small scratch, but it had produced enough blood to coat at least three fingertips. He stared at his crimson digits a moment and then laughed.

  “This? I’m not going to the hospital for this.” He leered at Anders. “You ever been shot, Bee Boy?” He tapped his chest. “I have. 9 mm right in the leg.” Lav started to tug his pants leg up to show the scar, but this was an operation with far too many steps for him to navigate in his current condition. “And I didn’t go to the hospital for that!”

  “Wow,” Anders said slowly. “That’s pretty tough.”

  Lav nodded. “So don’t tell me I need to go to the god damn hospital.” He staggered away from Ahanti’s door, past Anders, and toward the exit. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I see that,” Anders said.

  “That’s right,” Lav agreed. “Don’t you forget it.” He then promptly fell down the stairs. It was a loud, crashing descent that had all of Ahanti’s neighbors opening their doors.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Ahanti said. She reached out and grabbed Anders by the hand, pulling him into her apartment. “You’d better get in here.”

  He came into her apartment, but was confused. “Why?”

  “When the cops get here, they’re going to have a lot of questions. And if you’re just standing around out there, they’re going to think you pushed that idiot.”

  “And me being in your apartment changes this how?”

  Ahanti smiled. “When the police ask if we heard anything, I’ll just tell them we were too busy making love.”

  Anders blushed scarlet.

  Ahanti reached out and let her fingertip rest against his nose. “And if you do that when I say it, they’re going to absolutely believe me.” She smiled. “Problem solved.”

  Anders looked Ahanti up and down slowly. Her pink-striped bathrobe clung to her curves, with a neckline that came open to reveal a generous amount of deep cleavage. “Aren’t I a little…overdressed for that alibi?”

  “We could fix that,” Ahanti said.

  Anders’ blush got more intense.

  “I mean, unless you don’t want to…” Ahanti stepped closer to Anders than she’d ever been before. Her brown eyes searched his, looking as deep as she could into their clear blueness for a clue about how he was feeling. “I do want to thank you for coming to save the day.”

  “Do you know what I was doing when you called?” Anders asked. His voice was barely above a whisper.

  Ahanti shook her head. “Tell me.”


  “This,” Anders said. He pulled Ahanti into his arms, bent his head down and kissed her passionately. It was an embrace that went on and on; Ahanti’s head began to swim with the scent and taste of her cowboy. She only pulled away when the pounding in her lungs demanded air immediately. She gasped for breath and then smiled.

  “Wow.” She cocked her head. “Do you know what I was thinking about before Lav showed up?”

  Anders shook his head. “No.”

  “Getting you out of these clothes.” Her fingers went to the hemline of Anders’ white t-shirt. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Well,” Anders said, with just a bit of a blush, “I wouldn’t want to be over dressed when the cops get here.”

  Ahanti smiled, and slid Anders’ t-shirt up over his stomach. She smiled when she saw his cotton candy pink nipples and the tiny blond curls nestled in the center of his chest. “Where are you from, boy?” she asked. “Finland?”

  “Close,” he said with a laugh. “Minnesota.”

  “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you wound up here in West Texas,” Ahanti said. She started to undo his belt buckle. “But I think that’s a conversation that’s going to have to wait.”

  Her ebony fingertips had just grasped hold of Anders’ zipper when there was a loud knock on her door. “This is the police! Open the door!”

  Ahanti waved Anders toward her bedroom. “Hold on!” she said. “I’m coming!”

  Moving briskly, she opened the door, clutching her bathrobe closed around her. “What seems to be the trouble, officer?”

  There were two police officers facing her. “Ma’am,” the younger one said. “We’re just checking with everyone in the building; there’s been an incident, and we’re trying to figure out what happened.”

  “Is this about the drunk guy who was stomping around in the hall?” Ahanti asked. “I talked to him for a second, but I couldn’t understand him. He was going on about his kids being taken back to Mexico or something.”