CRAVE: A Small Town Menage Romance (Reckless Falls Book 4) Read online

  "Yeah maybe. But I'm still doing it."

  "You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?"

  "Maybe a little," he grinned. "But I'm dead serious too. I'm cutting your budget in half. Make do with what you've got."

  "You're a fucking prick."

  "Yup. Get mad about it. Show me this was a big fucking mistake. I'm sticking you in a box, now fight your way out of it." He lifted his chin in a challenge. "Sound good?"

  "Fuck you," I sighed.

  But he was dead fucking right. Pissed as hell, I stalked through my half-done kitchen, mentally running through the inventory lists. Without the ability to order more, I'd need to try new combinations, and new preparations to utilize everything we had in our stores.

  Suddenly my mind was buzzing, excitement clearing my head. I stepped out the back door ready to have the fresh air blow away the rest of the cobwebs in my brain.

  My heart was already pounding hard, even before I saw that Bee's back door was open. And out of it wafted an absolutely heavenly aroma, sugary-sweet and sinfully rich. Immediately I sniffed again, trying to identify all the components of that scent. "Butter," I said aloud. "Honey, brown sugar...vanilla of course. And..." I sniffed again. "What the heck else, Bee?"

  I had to know.

  I walked around the fence, and came up her stairs, careful to walk heavily to announce my presence.

  Her door was standing open, letting in some of the fresh spring air into the blast furnace heat of her working ovens. I knocked loudly, but she had earbuds in her ear and didn't hear me.

  "Hello?" I called, knocking louder.

  But the sound of her slamming the oven door closed drowned out my greeting. She turned on her heels, just as I was stepping fully into the doorway.

  She yelped, throwing up her hands and sending a tray of just baked cupcakes scattering over there at the floor.

  "Oh shit!" I gasped. "Sorry!" The cupcakes bounced crazily, and I dropped my knees, trying to gather them up. "Oh shit!" I hissed.

  "Careful! They're hot!" she cried, a little too late. I dropped the scalding hot cupcake and put my burning palm to my mouth.

  Her eyes flashed, and she reached out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me towards the deep utility sink. "Here, you need to put cold water on it," she told me firmly, running a gentle stream of freezing cold water from the tap.

  I winced as the freezing water ran over my reddened palm. She was still holding my wrist, her lips working intently as she grimaced. I made to pull away but she held me there. "Always hold it under longer than you think you need to," she said. "Otherwise you're going to regret it when you can't use your hand."

  "Yes, I like my hand," I said, then grimaced at how stupid that sounded. Being this close to her was doing something distracting to my body. She looked up, darting a quick glance in my direction, and I saw soft brown eyes, much warmer than they'd looked in the cool light of the morning yesterday. "But I've had burns before."

  "And they fucking hurt," she said, stubborn as anything. She let go of me, and I pulled my hand back, wincing as I flexed it.

  "It'll feel a lot better in a minute," I said.

  But her face was still full of concern. "Put some cream on it if you get a chance," she told me.

  I laughed, knowing that that chance was pretty far off with the way things were going. Then I took another look at the cupcakes that littered the floor. "Can I help with this in any way?" I asked, feeling guilty. "Given that I just destroyed a bunch of your inventory?"

  Bee smiled up at me. "Thanks, you don't need to do that."

  "I feel like I owe you, considering I just scared you out of your mind. And after I scared you last night too. I don't want you thinking I'm a scary dude."

  "Are you a scary dude?"

  I laughed shortly. "According to a lot of the people who've worked in kitchen under me? Yeah," I told her. She caught my eyes with her warm brown ones and I felt my throat tighten as I said, "I'm fucking terrifying."

  "I see that," she said with a wicked grin. "Well, you can help me mixed up another batch to make up for it."

  I pressed my lips together. I'd always hated desserts. I was absolutely dreading hiring a pastry chef. But the place where her fingers had wrapped around my wrist was still warm, and her lips were pinker than made sense. "Okay," I told her, feeling like I'd been drugged. "I'll do that."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bee

  My cheeks flamed. Just having him back here in this little kitchen in his crisp white shirt made everything around me seem a dull in comparison. His fancy restaurant next door overshadowed my homey little bakery by a long shot. "You don't have to worry about it," I told him, ducking my head, "I was just kidding."

  When I lifted my gaze, he was cocking his head to the side, giving me a glance that told me he knew far too much about me, or thought he did anyway. "I always keep my word," he said.

  Was he flirting? I thought he might be flirting. But then again, I probably also should be skeeved out by the fact that I was here alone with him. Once again, I found myself realizing that I actually had no idea how to handle men, much less men that looked like him. All the experience I had was with Zach, and I could pack that into something the size of my little finger.

  That was a problem. It really was the size of my little finger.

  I suppressed my snort, and looked back up at him. "I don't actually need more cupcakes, that batch was extra," I told him. "But you can help me with the last rack of dinner rolls for my delivery."

  He grinned, rolling up his sleeves. "Need me to knead?" he asked.

  I couldn't help but glance at his forearms, seeing that under that crisp button-down shirt, he had the ropey, defined muscles of someone who knew how to work with his hands. "I have a machine that does that," I said, feeling my throat grow dry.

  "Too bad," he sighed. I silently agreed with him.

  "You can measure into here," I told him, patting my bread machine.

  He nodded. "Good, I follow directions well," he said, shooting me a grin.

  "I highly doubt that."

  He licked his lips. They were very full for a guy, and when he grinned at me, his smile was slightly lopsided. "All you have to do is tell me what you want me to do."

  Was he flirting now? Was that definitely flirting? It had to be flirting.

  Or maybe he was teasing me. Sometimes when Zach teased me, he said it was because I was so cute. But it always made me feel so small instead.

  But Jackson wasn't doing that. He was reading my recipe very carefully, and leveling off his measurements very precisely. I found myself staring, as he measured it out, much more carefully than my usual eyeball and dump strategy.

  He turned his head and caught me staring and I snapped out of it. "I open in fifteen minutes," I told him.

  "I don't think I've ever been your customer," he remarked.

  "That's okay," I told him. "I've never been to your restaurant."

  He grinned ruefully. "That's because it isn't open yet. I don't have that excuse."

  "I'm the only one open on the block," I reminded him, feeling a little cheeky. I glanced up at him. His eyes were kind, soft, but sharp and intelligent at the same time. There was a light that danced behind them, even though I could see the dark shadows from working most of the night.

  I shook my head. "Shit, I need to set up the tables," I said, silently cursing myself for being so absent-minded. Was this what I got like when I was around attractive guys? I sort of hated myself right now.

  "I've got it," Jackson said. He helped me pull the chairs down from where I had set them upside down on the tables the day before. "You got everything?" he asked me.

  I nodded. And he reached over, and switched the sign in the door over from Closed to Open.

  The bell over the door rang almost instantly, and in loped the last person I thought I was going to see.

  And apparently last person Jackson thought he would see either. When he walked in, it was like all the air went out of the room a
s he looked from Jackson to me and back to Jackson.

  "Hello," Finn said.

  My stomach dropped down to my toes. I looked from Finn, back to Jackson, feeling for some strange reason like I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Or...like I was cheating or something.

  But that was ludicrous, right? I had only just met these guys. These incredibly handsome, incredibly aggravating, yet strangely sweet guys who'd cleaned the graffiti off my shop unasked. And how had I reacted when Finn told me that? By getting all pissy and possessive for no reason other than I felt I had something to prove.

  I looked at Finn and smiled, hoping like hell he'd forgotten what I bitch I'd been. "Can I help you?" I asked, in my best sunny-hostess voice.

  But Finn wasn't paying attention to me. He was looking at Jackson with the strangest expression on his face. There was electricity in the air, I could feel it. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck. This kind of current... I'd never felt it before, but there was something in me... the same dark, dangerous part of me where my fearsome temper resided, that welcomed it. I grinned, feeling like the devil my mother had always warned me about was whispering in my ear. "Why don't you boys sit down?" I heard myself say. "I'll get you some breakfast."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Finn

  If you'd asked me, in that moment, why I was so goddamn pissed off to see Jackson in Bee's store already, I wouldn't have been able to find the words to tell you. I would have been too busy counting backwards from one hundred, clenching my fists at my side and looking anywhere but at his smirking face as he greeted me warmly. "Good morning, boss," he said, sarcastically.

  "Mornin'," I responded, with equal levels of sarcasm. Then taking note of his flour-coated hands, I smirked a little. "I thought you didn't do dessert?"

  He reddened a little and glanced at Bee, who was watching us both with this gleam in her eye that made me look twice. "Why don't you boys sit down?" she said in a voice that seemed to resonate straight down to my dick. "I'll get you some breakfast."

  I looked at Jackson. He immediately moved to go sit at one of the wobbly little tables that cluttered her front end. And when he lifted his chin in a challenge, I immediately scraped the chair across the floor and sat down across from him.

  Bee was watching all this with that same gleam in her eye. "What can I get you?" she asked, and though her words were pure, perky professionalism, her voice was dripping with wicked sweetness. Like honey itself.

  "I'll have what he's having," I told her, glancing over at Jackson who smirked and looked down to fiddle with the napkin dispenser.

  "What's he having, then?" she replied in an arch tone, staring right at Jackson.

  Fuck, I loved the way she was looking at him right now, eyes furiously gleaming, so brown and wide and warm. She was staring him down like she wanted to set him on fire. I liked the way her agitation made the freckles stand out against her skin, and even more than that, I liked the idea of inhaling the sugar on her skin before I tasted how sweet she really was. It didn't even bother me that she was looking at him right now, and not me, because I was free to rake my eyes up and down her body, free to gorge myself on her curves until I was satisfied.

  Jackson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and looked up at her. "What's good?" he asked with a grin.

  Bee put her chin up, thrusting her jaw forward with an adorable little underbite. "Everything," she said fiercely.

  "Huh," Jackson said, and his eyes looked a little glazed.

  "I'm in the mood for something sweet," I piped up, allowing myself one more sweeping glance at those curves. But when my gaze came back up to rest on those wickedly brown eyes, I felt the need to amend that. "But not too sweet."

  Bee flushed, her cheeks as pink as roses. Jackson cleared his throat. "Her buns are the sweetest thing I've tasted," he said levelly.

  I felt something flash in my veins. "Oh?" I said. "You've tasted them?"

  "Not yet," Jackson admitted. "Just dipped my finger in the batter. I'm waiting to see how they taste once their ready."

  We stared at each other for a beat. He was keyed up, spoiling for a fight, I could tell, but more than that, I saw something else.

  Was it, confusion?

  It had to be, because I was feeling it too. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. One of us needed to back off, and soon.

  But it wasn't going to be me. That was for damn sure.

  I leaned back and glanced up at Bee again. She was waiting, watching us. I cleared my throat. "So. I guess I'll have to try your buns too. Just to be fair."

  Bee abruptly turned and went behind the counter and for a minute I wondered if we'd pushed too far. Innuendo was one thing, but we'd both just basically propositioned her.

  By the agreement we'd reached at the very beginning of our friendship, this was it. The point of no return. We'd agreed to never again compete over a woman. Once we declared our interest, the other had to back off.

  But we'd never actually put it into practice. Not too long after we'd reached that agreement, Jackson had gotten himself tangled in Mercy's web. This was the first woman he'd shown interest in since he untangled himself. By all laws of friendship, I should be backing off now.

  But when Bee returned with two plates, eyes gleaming, lips pinkened, and set them in front of us, I knew I wasn't ready to back off. And when she opened her mouth and spoke, I knew I was completely fucked.

  "Eat up, boys," she said with a wicked grin.

  I looked down at the flaky, sweet pastry in front of me. She was watching me as I lifted it to my mouth, her lips parting in unison with mine. "My honey buns," she declared as I bit in. "Sweetest thing you ever tasted," she said, turning to Jackson with that same wicked smile. "They're finally ready."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Bee

  I knew what I was doing.

  What I didn't know was why I was doing it.

  I set the plates in front of them and then stepped back. Watching these two men spar and snark at each other had my heart racing even before they both started eating.

  But when they started eating, I suddenly knew why I was doing this. Egging them on. Flirting.

  Because watching them eat what I'd made them, hearing their lips smack and the little groans of pleasure as they licked the sweet crumbs from the corners of their mouths was the most intensely sexy thing I'd ever experienced.

  I swayed in place, reaching out a wavering hand to steady myself on the display counter. It was a wonder my knees didn't give out. I felt dizzy and breathless and my pulse was thundering in my ears, a wild, drumming beat that I could feel right down into my core. Right down to...

  "How do you like them?" I gasped, cutting off that train of thought.

  "Fuck me," Jackson groaned as he licked the last crumbs from his fingers. Then his eyes gleamed as he turned to stare. "Damn girl. You're incredible."

  "You mean my baking is incredible."

  "That's not what I said."

  I swallowed. "Oh."

  "I think I need a cigarette and a cold shower," Finn added, leaning back. "Are you a witch?"

  I grinned. "No. I don't think so."

  "I do," he protested vehemently. "I could get addicted to that very easily."

  "Me too," Jackson added.

  The way they were both looking at me? Yeah. I could get addicted to that too.

  "Do you... want more?" I heard myself ask.

  Jackson slid his chair back and stood up. When he came towards me, I had the urge to back up, to shy away, but I stood my ground, lifting my head to watch him as he got closer. Closer.

  Way too close.

  I could feel the heat rising from his skin, and it raised perverse goosebumps along my arms. He wasn't touching me, but I felt him everywhere, but what was more, I felt Finn's gaze watching the both of us and for some reason that made what Jackson did next feel almost dirty.

  He lifted his fingers to his lips, brushing them to the side. "Do I have anything on my mouth?" h
e asked.

  I licked my lips. "In the corner," I whispered, hardly daring to breath.

  "Where?"

  I lifted my finger. "There."

  "Get it for me?"

  He didn't move his eyes from mine as I brushed my finger along the corner of his mouth. And he didn't make a sound.

  But Finn did. Finn let out a sharp exhale and suddenly stood up and paced over to the window. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him there, hunched over, his blond head gleaming in the early morning sunlight.

  "Fuck," Jackson hissed, and stepped back from me.

  The spell was broken. I sagged back against the counter and stared off into nothingness for a moment. That moment stretched into a minute, and then two.

  And then I heard the bell ding over my door.

  I snapped back into focus. "Miss Jenkins!" I sang out, though my voice came out more like a croak. "So good to see you!"

  My purple-clad neighbor swept into my store with an audible swish of fabric. "Good morning." Her voice sounded like it had been soaked in gin. "I see I'm not the only customer today," she announced with a glance over to where Finn and Jackson were awkwardly hunched.

  "No, ah." My brain stumbled. "Not today, no."

  "That's wonderful sweetheart. I wouldn't want you to go out of business so soon after you opened."

  I swallowed. "No, that would be bad."

  "You have lots of customers, correct?"

  My smile stretched upward falsely. "It's getting better every day. In fact, I just reached an agreement with the diner to provide their dinner rolls."

  Her faded blue eyes sharpened. "You be careful with that, my dear. Spiro is cutthroat and doesn't hesitate to burn bridges." She leaned forward and I was enveloped in the scent of mothballs. "He will blackball you to the whole town if you don't come through on every order perfectly."

  "Is that so?" I croaked. My heart was simultaneously racing and dropping right down to the floor. "Well I wouldn't want to do that."

  Nick hadn't shown up yet. I glanced over to my silent phone, but there were no texts from him on the screen. He was supposed to do a drop at the diner by seven am, and he hadn't shown up yet. Nor had he called.