by Frost, Sosie
He projected a sort of raw, animalistic charm, and the thick, scruff of a beard shadowing his jaw made him even more wild. His hunter green eyes undoubtedly chased many women, but I wondered how many he’d captured with a simple smirk.
He was just the sort of man I’d never want to meet in the dark. Unless, of course, I was already in his bed.
My rear-endee glanced me up and down with a mischievous grin. As if wrecking my vehicle wasn’t enough, this man was T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I could feel it in my gut—and my panties. From his broad shoulders to the tease of his careless, chin-length hair. He packed muscles atop of muscles, and then tattoos over that. The hint of ink peeked from under the cuff of his leather jacket. I could only imagine what warnings he’d tattooed onto his body.
Run while you can.
Save me for your dreams.
I’ll ruin your life in the best possible way.
I’d never met a man like this.
He was a gulp of whiskey straight out of the bottle.
A shot of tequila without the salt.
Gin and no tonic.
I’d have to get friendly with a bartender to order a drink that strong and be utterly insane to want a taste.
He stared at me like he could see through the shirt I held against my chest. At least he admired the dark curves.
But Momma and Daddy still hollered from my pocket.
“Oh, Honeybee…” Momma’s excitement carried, even through the denim. “Do you remember that time you got chicken pox?”
Not the chicken pox story. Anything but the chicken pox story.
Even Daddy started to laugh. “Oh, Lord. She was covered from her nose to her toes.”
I dropped the shirt and ice, clamoring to grab my phone.
Too late.
“Look at this picture, Marty…” Momma chuckled. “Stripped down naked, just covered in chicken pox. Runs into the living room, drags me out of the chair.”
Daddy hooted. “So damned proud of herself. She pointed all over her chest, tummy, legs…”
“’Momma, Momma!’” My mother nearly wept with laughter. “Look how many boobies I have now!”
Oh God.
If the truck weren’t ready to explode, I’d have hidden under it.
“I…uh…only have two now,” I said.
“…Two?”
His words char-broiled my already scalded skin. What good could ice do when his stare would sear me to a crisp? Hell, he seemed the sort of man who preferred his women well-done.
I gestured to my chest. “Only two…you know…boobies.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I see that.”
His laugh was a perfect, hearty baritone—the type that resonated deep in my belly and tickled everything along the way. Such a shame he laughed at my expense.
What the hell was I doing? The accident didn’t give me a concussion, but I acted like I had brain damage. He was just a hot guy. Nothing more. I’d served plenty of them in the restaurant…even if the extent of my flirting was just tossing them an extra wet-nap with their bill.
But this man…
Hotter than my barbeque sauce. Should have bottled him up and sold him off to all those ladies looking to spice up their bedroom. I would have made a killing.
If I didn’t keep him all to myself.
I tucked my phone into my back pocket as Momma and Daddy recounted yet more of my childhood horrors.
“I’m sorry about the…” I pointed to his truck. The scrape on his bumper was nothing compared to my crumpled, smoking wreckage. “Are you okay?”
He combed his hair with a calloused hand—rough around the nails and stained with grease. A man who worked with his hands? I liked that. Not enough men got dirty anymore, too afraid of a day’s hard work in the sun.
I shouldn’t have stared, but his thick shoulders and broad chest were just the sort of meat I’d been missing. Prime cut. Aged perfectly. He didn’t look too tender, but I could make anything melt-in-my-mouth.
I extended a hand, using my other arm to cover my coffee-stained bra. “I’m Honey Hudson. This is…was…my food truck—Honey’s Barbeque. Are you sure you’re not hurt, Mr.…?”
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. A man like him didn’t need a menu. He knew what he wanted.
“Tidus Payne.” He ignored my outstretched hand and pointed to his truck. “Make you a deal, Honey Hudson. I’ll let you rear-end me again if it means you lose the pants too.”
I froze. Quite the trick while my chest still prickled and burned.
I gave a nervous laugh and tried to cross my arms. Only stung more.
“Oh, right.” I glanced over my bare chest. “I, uh, had an accident with a very hot cup of coffee. Spilled it all over me. Think I could borrow your jacket to cover up?”
Tidus gave me a lazy, insolent smile. “You must have me confused for a gentleman, Honey Hudson.”
Wasn’t every man a gentleman? “But I’m…a little naked here. Consider it a favor?”
“A favor?” He stole a long, absolutely inappropriate glance. “You hit me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Did you need help?”
“I’ve never asked for help a day in my life…” He smirked. “Not sure anyone would give it.”
No wonder. I tightened my arms over my chest. “You could, at least, have the decency to turn around then.”
“That’s another thing about me…got no decency either.”
Fantastic. “What a shame I didn’t hit someone willing to help me.”
“You don’t want my sort of help…”
“I’m starting to think you wouldn’t know how to give it anyway.”
“You might be a bad driver, but at least you’re a quick learner.”
Indignation burned hotter than coffee. This man was not worth my time or my impromptu strip show.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said. “What information do you need from me? Insurance? Phone numbers?”
“All I need to know is what it will take to get the rest of those clothes off. Money? Jewelry?”
Oh, hell no. He’d have to try a lot harder than that.
“How about politeness?” I asked. “Respectability? Civility?”
He snickered. “My three weaknesses. Guess I’ll never get to see that ass.”
Was he serious? Did he actually think he could score…or was he just trying to piss me off? Sure, I’d accidentally damaged his vehicle and ruined his day, but his preferred revenge would strip off my clothes just to get under my skin.
And the bastard already knew just how to irritate me.
Tidus leaned against my truck with an all-too-casual arm. Just because smoke poured from under the hood, a wheel tumbled down the street, and the door shattered into a couple of pieces didn’t mean I’d suffer his greasy fingerprints mucking up the side. I chased him away with a scowl.
“It’s always the cute ones, isn’t it?” I asked.
“I know.” He took a compliment I hadn’t offered. “I’m utterly irresistible.”
“Try terminally vulgar.”
“Nothing vulgar about the truth.”
“I beg to disagree.”
“You could beg for a lot more…and get it too.”
It’d be a cold day in hell before I’d ask anything else of this man. “Do you really think you’ll get anywhere near my bed talking to me like that?”
He eyed me with a critical, soul-crushing gaze. “I doubt any man has gotten close to your bed, Honey Hudson. Care to prove me wrong?”
That was none of his business.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t been much of mine either.
I’d graduated from high school only to spend the next five years working eighteen-hour days at Daddy’s restaurant. Wasn’t like I had time for romance between prepping, sautéing, cooking, baking, roasting, toasting, cleaning, managing…
Then again, I doubted Tidus understood anything about romance or hard work.
And he sure as hell wasn’t getting the vulgar truth from me
.
I scrunched my nose, gestured over the leather and boots, scruff on his chin, and tats on his arms.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re some sort of…thirty-year-old, leather-clad, trouble-making, womanizing bad boy with enough notches on his bedpost to chew through the frame?”
Tidus stroked his strong, angled jaw and accepted the criticism like a badge of honor. “Something wrong with that?”
“Not if you’re living in an 80s music video.”
“Life was easier back then…so were the women.”
“I’ve always said anything worth doing is worth the hard work.”
Tidus feigned disappointment. “Don’t tell me you’re the type of girl who expects champagne and roses? That’s some expensive fucking foreplay.”
“Call me old-fashioned, but an honest please and thank you will really get me off.”
“You little liar.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Honey…” His words spiked with absolute confidence. “You’re not a girl who gets off at all.”
An assumption that was as painfully obvious as it was utterly insulting.
Who the hell was this man? And how did he learn so much about me with only a single glance?
Tidus either had a talent for reading people or clairvoyance. Either way, he wasted the powers. Whatever game he played, his goal was only to rile me up. It wasn’t even about sex with him. All he wanted was to tease me through my own damned insecurities.
And that was the worst insult!
“You’re the bad kind of hot, you know that?” I asked. “You think a pretty face excuses your behavior.”
“You should see my co—”
I held up a hand. “Don’t say it.”
Tidus smirked. “What’s wrong? Delicate sensibilities?”
“Sensitive stomach. You’re making me sick.”
“I know how to make you feel much better.”
“And now you’re making me laugh.” I crossed my arms tighter. It only pushed the girls up higher. “Are you finished? How many times do you wanna strike out today?”
“You just crashed into my truck, Ms. Hudson…don’t you think I’m owed an apology?”
His accompanying glance was as inappropriate as it was vulgar.
And I wished I hadn’t enjoyed the attention.
“I would apologize…” I said. “But I don’t think I’d like your type of forgiveness.”
“Believe me, Honey…you’d like it very much.”
“So, because I rear-ended you…you get to fender-bender me over?”
“Forget the insurances. I’m willing to negotiate.”
A man this cocky had a bar-fight crooked nose for a reason. I got the feeling he was either always in trouble or looking to start more. Even worse, he had that insufferable all-night confidence. A narcissism forged between the sheets. All he needed was a smooth smile, the right line, and one lemon drop martini, and a girl would reward his bad behavior until the sun rose.
It gave the man an inflated ego. And, with a prick that big, I was surprised he hadn’t popped it yet.
Tidus circled the truck. Couldn’t tell if the man was all muscle and no brains or if he just liked to hide it all under a set of rock hard abs and pecs that stretched his t-shirt.
Why did a guy this rude have to look that good?
He gave a low whistle. “Wow. This is gonna cost you.”
My bank account was already crying. I sighed. “I’m no mechanic, but it’s not looking good.”
“You’ll have to sell a lot of ice cream.”
“I sell barbeque.”
“…Frozen barbeque?”
I groaned. If only I had wrecked the side of the truck. At least getting t-boned would have made sense. Instead, I’d crumpled the front, popped a tire, and melted the engine to the road. The one feature that needed to be changed—the painted side advertising ice cream and snow cones—miraculously survived the crash.
“I just bought the truck.” I patted the side. The frame squealed, and a widening crack nearly split the truck in two. Figured. “But I didn’t have money left over to renovate it.”
And I wouldn’t until I made a name for myself. The East Coast Barbeque Circuit had a reputation for being an aggressive, competitive, and dangerous food community, second only to the Mid-Atlantic Ice Cream Truck Cartel—who, in their defense, had cut me a great deal on the old truck. But I wouldn’t start making money until I had some publicity or an award.
Specifically, the only barbeque award that mattered:
Finger-Lickin’ First Place from The Ironfield Backyard Beef Brisket Brawl-B-Que.
Until I returned home with a ribbon, my food wouldn’t be worth the wet nap used to wipe my fingers.
The phone rumbled from my pocket.
“Honey!” Momma called. “Are you listening to me?”
I sighed, motioned for Tidus to stay quiet, and unmuted my side of the call. “I’m listening.”
Tidus grinned, mouthing the words little liar.
“I just found a picture of your Halloween costume from when you were eleven,” Momma said. “I don’t care what you say. Yes, the orthopedic shoes made your left leg a little shorter than the other, and the eyepatch to fix that lazy eye was a bit dramatic, but, as long as you didn’t smile to show the braces, you were a perfectly passable pirate.”
“Yes, Momma—hey, I really need to go now…”
Momma hummed. “The only problem was that you kept wearing the costume through November, and the school started writing those letters home. But it worked out. I told you that you’d grow out of the patch and into your ears.”
And there it was. “Hold on, Momma.”
I muted the damn thing again.
Tidus winked. “Problems at home, little girl?”
“Sorry…” I pocketed the phone before Momma began the story about how I got my first period while wearing the next year’s Halloween costume—an angel dressed completely in white. “They never let me get off.”
“I could help with that,” he said.
“Not if you were the last man in…” I frowned. “Where am I?”
“A little town south of nowhere called Butterpond.”
“Never heard of it.”
Tidus edged closer. “Say the word, and I’ll give you the full tour. I know a great place.”
Yeah, right. “I’m not interested in sight-seeing your bed.”
“Wouldn’t see much with the lights off.”
“That insecure?” I asked.
He chuckled. “No. Wouldn’t want to scare a good girl like you.”
“As hard as it is to decline such a lovely offer…” I rolled my eyes. “I’m heading to Ironfield.”
Tidus jerked a thumb towards the truck. “You’re not getting far in that death trap.”
It’d be fine. The engine was hardly smoking now.
I slipped by him, peeking at his tailgate. He followed, drifting a little too close to me. He rubbed a strong hand over the dent in his bumper.
“Think it’ll buff out?” I bit my lip.
“No, but we could make a bigger bump if you’re game.”
“Sure you didn’t hit your head? Might be your only excuse for such terrible behavior.”
“Never needed an excuse before.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
He sized me up with a sly glance. “Remember, you rear-ended me, Honey. Only decent thing to do is return the favor.”
Not if he were the last man in Butterpond.
I stared at my truck. What luck. My vehicle smoked on the side of the road, but I wasn’t getting any brisket out of it. I leaned against the side and gave my head one good thunk against the frame.
“Look…this has been fun…” I sighed. “But I’m not the kind of girl you think I am.”
“You’re exactly the kind of girl I think you are. That’s what makes it fun.”
“Don’t be a jerk. We’re lucky someone didn’t get hurt.”
His smile faded. “You’re right. It’s a damned miracle. I’m always hurting people.”
Only because a guy like him probably liked getting hurt in return.
I needed a plan. The truck was a disaster. Who knew how far I was from a reputable mechanic, or how long the repairs would take. I’d totaled the truck, lost power to the fridge containing my meat and groceries, and had no way of getting to the rib cookoff in Greentree tomorrow night.
I pulled out my phone, but Momma and Daddy still laughed in glee, lost in their own conversation.
I had to tell them.
My thumb hovered over the unmute button, but I couldn’t press it.
Tidus watched, amused. “What’s a good girl like you gonna do now? Far from home. Truck’s broken.”
I frowned. “This isn’t a joke. My entire livelihood is about to catch on fire.”
“That’s why I’m taking your mind off it.”
“No, you’re trying to take my clothes off. Big difference.”
But Tidus didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “Never know. Might help.”
“Doubtful.”
“Guess you only have one option now.”
“And what’s that?”
His amusement was unwelcomed. “You’re gonna have to tell Daddy. That must be the reason why you haven’t ended the call yet.”
My heart sunk. So did my stomach. My wallet might have hit the ground too, but its pockets were so empty it took a couple of extra seconds to flutter to my feet.
“What’s wrong, Honey Hudson?” Tidus grinned. “Afraid to tell Daddy what happened?”
Yes, but he didn’t need to know that. “That’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business when you rammed into me,” he said. “Let me guess. First time you’ve ever been in trouble?”
Now he was getting a little too personal. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about me.”
Tidus smirked. I wished I hadn’t shivered as his whiskey-roughened voice shadowed me with the truth.
“I think I got you figured out, Miss Hudson.”
I found that unlikely. Hell, I didn’t even know who I was yet. And, at this point, I wasn’t too eager to find out either. Forget the soul-searching—I made soul food. And that was good enough for me.
“I’m not interested in what you think,” I said.
“But you sure as hell care what Daddy thinks.”
