HONEY FOR NOTHIN' Page 3

  But now she got it, she totally got why they’d both warned her about him. Holy motorcycle boots, that smile, and the way he looked into her eyes, like he really saw her, and liked what he saw in a way that made him want to know more. Yeppers, she needed to take Lindi’s advice and stay away from this one.

  Except he was so yummy. No, bad Kit, down girl. Bikers were not good for her ... and besides, Jack and his bro had ties to the bikers she most wanted to stay away from—the Devil’s Flyers.

  The two were roving members of the club, not patched in to the local chapter but still affiliated. For all she knew, Keys would be willing to drag her ass back to Bouncer as a gesture of solidarity.

  She carried the bin of dirty dishes back to the kitchen, passing Remi, who was bringing out a platter of double cheeseburger, crispy fries and a salad heaped with crudités and dripping with ranch dressing—every single item hand-prepared. Remington Red Hawk not only had a kick-ass Native American name to go with his hot Native American looks, he was an awesome short-order cook.

  She glanced back as she rounded the corner, saw Remi turning away after setting the plate down before Keys, both of them with a strange look on their faces, one that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. Keys caught her eye, winked at her and then turned his attention to his meal.

  Remi followed her into the dish-washing station, which was out of sight of the café. Then, instead of allowing Kit to move by, he backed her past the dishwasher and the sink to the end wall, and tipped his head, leaning in with his hands on her waist and his beautiful eyes on hers.

  “You ever gonna kiss me?” he asked her, his fingers biting into her flesh, and something fierce in his gaze.

  Blindsided by this sudden escalation of their fun flirtation, and by his nearness, all hot, lean man with the mingled smells of clean skin, faint laundry soap and fried foods, Kit didn’t say what she should have, which was ‘Ever? We’ve only known each other a few days’.

  Instead, like a puppet on a string he held in one of his lean, graceful hands, she nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Then, before she could say what she totally should have, which was ‘but not now’, her gaze dropped to his chiseled, yet soft lips and her own parted. Remi had a beautiful mouth, with a full lower lip that made her want to lick it and maybe suck on it too.

  He leaned in the few more inches required, and kissed her. His mouth was soft, warm and felt so good on hers that Kit made a hungry, breathy sound in her throat and tipped her head, kissing him back, reveling in the way his lips clung to hers in swift, hungry exploration. Her hands found his ribs and curled into his thin tee, feeling his hard warmth underneath.

  Remi groaned quietly in his chest, the sound poignant under the roar of the grill fan and the clink of dishes, voices and country music from the café just a few feet away. Then he jerked his head up, as if fast was the only way he could break away.

  For a few seconds, they stared at each other. Something turned over in Kit’s chest at the yearning in his dark eyes before they were shielded by the screen of long, straight ebony lashes. He swallowed, and then licked his lips.

  “Need some more of that,” he muttered, as if shocked by this discovery. “Later, yeah?”

  Ding-dangity-dang. There went her plan to stay away from men while she got her head on straight and figured out what the hell she was going to do with her life.

  “Later,” she breathed. Because geez, she was only human. How could she walk away from that kiss, and not crave more? She yearned too.

  He smiled at her, and it was all totally worth it, because Remi had dark, coffee-with-cream skin, high cheekbones and a hawk nose, and when he smiled, his lean face creasing, eyes lighting up, white teeth flashing, it was like a shaft of sun down through storm clouds—wham! Rendering her powerless to do anything but smile back.

  It was official—she was a total slut. Lusting after two guys in about as many minutes.

  Lindi would not be happy if she knew. She was like a big sister, trying to convince Kit to get her life planned without a man to complicate it for a while.

  But both Remi and Keys were a cut above the bikers she’d been around lately. They were both so pretty, it was like setting a big plate of crispy fries and sauce in front of her and then telling her to keep out.

  She might just have to go with the urge, and see which one of them wanted her to bite him first. This was a problem she had ... not wanting to miss out on any possibilities, but also being afraid to choose for herself.

  Hopefully one of them would choose her.

  * * *

  Keys waited until he was done with his excellent cheeseburger meal, had another iced tea and shot the shit with the guy on the stool next to him, who’d seen him ride in on his Harley. They discussed the relative charms of Harleys vs. Indians and the guy lamented that he was now stuck with his pickup, having hurt his back in a work accident. Keys nodded his understanding, because summer was just heating up in this northern area, and bringing prime riding time.

  He wrapped it up when he noted the lunch rush was nearly over, and the pretty redhead was carrying a bag of trash out the back door, over Remi’s objections. Keys watched them squabble, watched her win.

  He gave Remi a grin, jerked his chin to say later over the din of a quartet of fishermen getting up to leave, calling good-byes to another group.

  Remi nodded back, then looked down and away, lashes shielding his dark gaze in that way he had of hiding from the world. Keys would let him have that if he needed it ... and a lot more, if the man only knew it.

  Keys caught Lindi’s eye, held up a twenty and laid on the back edge of the counter by his empty plate. Then he sauntered out the front door, along the windowless east side of the small, white cinder-block building, and around to the back.

  There was a small cement stoop and a large dumpster at the back of the café. In the small patch of shade cast by the building stood the pretty redhead, hands now empty, and gaze on the mountainside rising up sharply behind the graveled lot. The slope was covered in native brush, grasses and wild balsam-root, the bright yellow sun-flower blooms nodding amid silvery-green leaves. Beyond rose the evergreens that covered the upper flanks of the mountain.

  The café fan belched hot, grease-laden exhaust on the far side of the building, but here the scents of pine, warm earth and fresh air filled the shady spot.

  As he watched, Kit reached up and pushed back a stray curl from her cheek, and then set her hands on the small of her back and stretched, thus throwing her tits and ass into pin-up girl prominence. Nice.

  He didn’t want to scare her, so he eased over until he was in her line of sight.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him, then an instant smile curved up her soft, pink mouth and lit her eyes. She hid it fast, biting her lip and lowering her heavily mascaraed lashes, but he’d seen it. Yeah, he was in there.

  She cocked one hip and set her hand on it, facing him straight on, color pinking her pale cheeks. They were pretty cheeks, too, high with just enough cushion to make her face interesting. Lush.

  “You set to grab me and haul me off up into the woods the way you and Jack did Lindi?” she asked.

  If only he could. She’d look fine on the back of his bike, and even better after she was all flushed and mussed and happy from being licked, sucked and fucked, his scent all over her and vice versa. “Not unless you want me to, babe. Don’t generally grab women, but I could roll with that.”

  “I don’t know where any money’s hidden,” she said, tossing her hair back like a red flag that called ‘come and wrap this around your fist’. “So I guess it wouldn’t be worth your while.”

  He chuckled at her sass. “Might be worth yours, Red. You could see my place. The cabin and auto shop up there are mine now. I bought it from Lindi.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking puzzled. “Why?”

  “‘Cause it’s fuckin’ beautiful out here, and because I wanted the shop.”

  “Oh. You work on cars and motorcycle an
d things?”

  “I do. Take old cars, trucks and bikes, completely redo ‘em. I mostly like creating street rods, but I do some classic restoration.” And he was fuckin’ thrilled at the place he’d found to do it in, even if he was walking over a dead man’s grave to get in the door.

  “So you’re taking over where Dave’s creepy brother left off?” she asked, wary now.

  Keys snorted. “Just the automotive business.”

  He wanted nothing to do with Gaspard’s other dealings, not anymore. Darrel Gaspard had been a crooked, amoral shit with his fingers in some very nasty pies.

  Luckily, he’d spent a lot of his dirty money building his shop and equipping it. He’d done so on land that had in fact belonged to his little brother. But also luckily, after his brother’s death, that land had come to Lindi, who’d sold twenty acres and the shop to Keys.

  Darrel had also left behind a few legit customers wondering who was gonna work on their projects now that he’d disappeared. Since Keys happened to know the man’s disappearance was permanent, he’d been happy to let them know he was available to pick up Gaspard’s slack.

  “So you have a name for this business?” Kit asked. “Hey, I know—how about ‘The Keys to Speed’ or ‘I’ll Turn Your Keys’.”

  He chuckled, but shook his head as he moved toward her. “Thanks, but already got a name. ‘Younger Restorations’.”

  Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out one of the business cards he’d had made up, and handed it to her. On the outline of a key, was the darker lettering of the business, his name and phone number, email and website.

  She took it. “‘Keys Younger, auto restoration specialist’,” she read aloud. “So are you handing these out around town, or what?”

  “Auto enthusiasts know my name,” he said, not without pride. “I learned the craft in a good shop in California. They did not want to see me leave.”

  But by the time Jack wanted out of Cali, Keys had known he was ready to ride along. His own dream was not to work for someone else, but to have his own shop. And since he’d first needed the money he and Jack had invested with Darrel Gaspard, he’d ridden up here to North Idaho to get it back, and fallen in love with the place.

  The shop waiting for him was like God hitting him over the head with a lug wrench, telling him ‘This is your chance, son. Grab it and hold the fuck on!’

  “I already have customers,” he told her.

  “That’s cool,” she said. “But I don’t have a car, pickup or a motorcycle, so I guess I don’t need your services.”

  He grinned at her. “You don’t know what else I can do for you, Red. I have other skills.”

  Her cheeks pinked again. “Yeah, so I hear.”

  Keys took his card from her fingers and tucked it into the breast pocket of her cowgirl shirt, his gaze locking and holding hers. “Like I said, Red--skills. I’d enjoy sharin’ with you.”

  Her breath hitched, making her breast lift under his knuckles. This close, she smelled of warm woman, a little sweaty from working hard but he didn’t mind that. He was a little ripe himself after a day on the road in the hot sun.

  He lifted his hand and trailed one of her wayward curls through his fingers. Her shampoo smelled of herbs and flowers. He liked it. His cock liked it too, as well as the way she was looking up at him now, like she didn’t know whether to jump on him or back away.

  “Had a great burger,” he told her. “But I missed out on dessert. You gonna give me somethin’ sweet to ride up the mountain on?” He kept his voice light, playful, not suggestive.

  She frowned, a crease appearing between her auburn brows. But then her gaze fell to his mouth, her pupils dilating again, and her own lips parted, sweet and plump. “I, um, I shouldn’t but ... okay,” she breathed.

  He did not waste any time asking the question that fired in his brain with hot irritation, as in why the fuck shouldn’t she?

  Instead, he moved in, lifting his hand to cup the side of her neck and cocking his head to the side and moving in to sample those lips, slow and gentle. They were even softer, warmer and sweeter than he’d imagined.

  He took his time, savoring her lips and on into the sweet, wet cave of her mouth, dipping his tongue in just enough to taste her. He set his other hand on her waist, feeling warm and resilient flesh under her thin tank. The feel of a woman, oh yeah.

  She shivered when he did so, and answered with her soft little tongue slicking against his.

  Christ, she tasted sweet and spicy. She tasted like more. Desire spun its lazy way up through him in a sweet, familiar taunt. There was more pleasure beckoning, the rest of her to be enjoyed, fast as hell the first time and then at leisure, sampling any parts he’d missed and urging her to do the same.

  His cock stiffened, surging against the fly of his jeans in a mindless demand.

  But not here. Lindi or Remi might come out the café’s back door at any moment. And while he didn’t mind fucking in public, even got off extra hard on it at times, that was at private parties, not in a place where anyone might happen along. Didn’t want to be shocking the hell out of Jack’s new woman.

  As for Remi ... well, that was another story. And another reason to take this somewhere private.

  So he lifted his head to look into her eyes, and give her a smile.

  “Now that was the sweetest I’ve tasted in a long time, Red. How’s about you hop on the back of my bike and we take this up the mountain? An’ you’ll note I’m asking, not grabbing.”

  She blinked and drew her bottom lip in between her teeth.

  Yeah, get used to that taste, Red, ‘cause I’m gonna be in there a lot. Gonna feed you my cock, too, however you’ll take it--shallow and deep, gentle and hard.

  Just the thought of thrusting into those damp, pink lips made his balls draw up and his cock so hard he could feel every stitch in the soft denim of his jeans against his skin.

  Then a thump inside the café rattled the door. She stiffened and moved backward, stumbling as she hit the edge of the concrete stoop with her heel.

  Keys steadied her, then let go as she moved up onto the stoop.

  “I have to get back to work.” She gave him a look at once shy and bold, and smiled. “But maybe I’ll see you around, Keys Younger.”

  She turned and grabbed the door handle. He watched, enjoying the sight of her pretty ass in tight denim and long, bare legs from the rear.

  “Oh, you will, Red,” he promised. “You will.”

  Then he walked away, got on his bike and revved it up and rolled out of the graveled lot and left on the county road that led up the mountain to his place.

  He was smiling as he roared up the curving road, swerving to miss the nasty pothole on one turn, then into the shade of the towering pines, the scent of clean, spicy, pine needles and brush filling his nostrils.

  Yeah, it was good to be back.

  Chapter Three

  The back door of the BeeHive thudded shut behind Kit. What had she just done? Kissed a biker man.

  And when she turned, the first thing she saw was Remi at the corner of the grill, and Lindi, standing in the break in her café counter, both staring at her.

  Kit blushed. The curse of being a redhead with fair skin.

  Remi ducked back behind his grill. Lindi beckoned. With a sigh, Kit hurried to her friend.

  “Kit,” Lindi began.

  “Not talking about it,” Kit said, scanning for tables that needed bused and ignoring her hot cheeks and tingling lips. Oh, man, she could still taste him.

  “What?” Lindi held out her phone. “I meant, your mom’s on the phone.”

  Kit stepped back, staring at the phone in revulsion. “No,” she muttered, waving her hands. “Say I’m—say I’m gone, staying with someone else. Say I’m anywhere. I don’t want her coming here.” Especially not with Bouncer and one or more of his biker bros.

  “If you’re worrying about me, don’t,” Lindi said. “Jack will make sure no one tries anything at the café. And R
emi will too. But hon, she’s been calling me for three days. You have to talk to her sooner or later.”

  Kit shook her head vehemently. “Don’t want to talk to her.” So far avoidance was working, and since she had no other plan, she was sticking with this one.

  Lindi gave her an irritated look, but lifted her thumb off the mute button, put her phone to her ear and spoke again. “Denise? I’m sorry, Kit’s, uh, staying with another friend.”

  Kit leaned in to hear what her mother would say.

  “I know very well she’s with one of you,” Deni said. “And Sara ain’t home—her phone went to some ‘out-of-the-office’ message thing. So that leaves you. Now tell my daughter to get her butt to the phone.”

  Kit winced and Lindi squeezed her arm reassuringly, then strangely turned her back on Kit. Kit understood the instant Lindi spoke. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t put eyes on her for you, Denise. Listen, I’ve got customers. Gotta go, bye. What? No!”

  Lindi clicked her phone off and tucked it in her apron pocket. She looked at Kit over her shoulder, her face troubled. “Hon, how important do you think it is that you stay out of sight of that biker?”

  Kit’s stomach knotted. “Really important,” she said. “Bouncer is ... kind of crazy at times.”

  Such as any time he drank, which was often. She’d seen him drunkenly going after one of the prospects for some infraction at a club party, and it had scared the crap out of her.

  The Flyers’ president and his brother had to hold Bouncer off, because Bouncer had not wanted to stop with one punch—he’d seemed to want to really hurt the kid.

  When Bouncer fought them too, the president, Joystick, had cold-cocked him. He’d done it without showing a single emotion, too, which had scared Kit almost worse than the beating.

  The prospect had been taken off to be looked after by one of the old ladies who was a nurse, while Bouncer was laid out on one of the ratty old sofas in the club room, and business as usual resumed. Of course, that was business as usual for bikers.