BITTER SWEET CRAVINGS (The Kingsmen MC Book 6) (12 page)

I run through the mental list of all the things that make her perfect, and feel a sharp pain as I realize she’ll probably be leaving soon. Now that Clink’s back and he and Charlie can get back to normal, I hate to think that Dana won’t see any other reason to stay.

For a while… that was the plan. Don’t have her catch on to the way I really feel about her. Don’t give her any more cause to get mixed up in this type of life. But, now that its a real fucking possibility that she’ll skip town; I can’t bear the thought of feeling like the way I did tonight, for the rest of my fucking life.

This shit doesn’t do it for me anymore. Bitches and whores like
Candy
don’t do it for me anymore. I don’t want some nasty-tasting fake shit that only leaves you craving the real thing, like some cheap, sorry imitation.

I
want
the real thing.

And tonight… I’m gonna make sure I get it.

~*~

DANA

“How much did you say the security deposit was?”

My mind has turned into a human calculator, adding up all the figures and numbers, doing the math that will either make my dream come true or squash it completely.

“Two thousand for security. First and last month’s rent also due upon signing, that’s another fifteen hundred. You’re responsible for the realty fee of seven fifty and then whatever permits you’ll need. So, four thousand, two hundred fifty dollars will be due the day you sign.”

I nod, a little disheartened at the total amount. I’ve been saving up since before culinary school graduation, but hadn’t anticipated needing the money before another few months at least.

I’d been looking for space close to home for a while now. Either the rents were too high or there was too much competition in the area. Coming to Chisolm, though, I’d noticed that there was only one other bakery in town, and it was mediocre at best.

The rent is cheap, the location is great… but it doesn’t leave me much left over to buy supplies, new ovens, redecorate the place a little bit… not to mention get an apartment for myself.

I look around at the old kitchen of the tiny one-time luncheonette and imagine it being turned into a bakery pretty easily, with just the right amount of cash. The question is… do I have enough?

I smile at Mr. Jenson, the pleasant-enough realtor who’s shown me around the last half hour or so.

“I think it might just work,” I nod, running my finger over the stainless steel sink counter. “I just have to crunch the numbers before I make a final decision.”

His long, thin fingers go to work on the worn leather briefcase buckles. “In the meantime, if you’d like, we can get started on the credit check and the references? This way we’re ready to go if you decide to move forward.”

That’s probably a good idea, I decide.

I take the pen he politely offers me and go to work filling out the appropriate boxes. Social security number… date of birth… all the basic information.

For references, I put down Charlie and Mrs. Dobson, the dean of the culinary school. She had taken to me early on my first year, spotting I had a knack for baking… she even hired me to make her daughter’s wedding cake last year.

Next up… employment history. Beside the part-time bank teller position I’d had for a few years in school, I’d only ever worked for my mom’s catering business, so I list that, afraid the lack of work history will make me look too inexperienced for the landlord to risk leasing to me.

Just writing down my mom’s information makes me feel guilty for dodging her calls lately. I’m a piss-poor liar and always give myself away by going overboard trying to compensate. I’d sworn to Charlie that I wouldn’t sell her out to mom about living here in Chisolm let alone finding her real dad,
and
dating a biker.

Those are just too many landmines to remember to dodge, so it’s been easier just to keep it short and simple when it comes to phone calls with my mother. The ones I take, anyway. Most of them I’ll let go straight to voicemail, or just send her a quick text in reply, that I’m busy and will have to call her back.

I know I won’t be able to keep it up much longer, so I hope for all our sakes, Charlie decides to come clean soon.

I make sure to dot the i’s and cross the t’s before pushing the paper across the sleek surface of the industrial countertop.

“That’ll be ninety dollars to cover the credit check, Ms. Griffiths. Cash, check, or money order will be fine.”

Ugh, I sigh. Of course it will.

I take out my Betty Boop checkbook holder and write out the desired amount before marking it down in the ledger, noting that the last entry was almost a year ago.

Who the fuck writes checks these days, anyway?

I imagine at the rate I’m going, I’ll be writing a helluva lot more of these with all of the expenses heading my way.

“Hello? Dana? You in here?” I lift my head and multitask ripping the check carefully from the perforated edging and answering T.J.

“Back here, T.J.! In the kitchen!”

Just as I’m handing over the rectangular cartoon-themed banking document to Mr. Jenson’s eagerly awaiting fingertips, our visitor joins us.

“Uh… hey. Wha-what’s goin’ on?” He strides in, walking in that wide-stepped, over-enthusiastic way he does after having been riding for a while.

I laugh softly and move my chin to hide it from him.

“What’s funny, cupcake?” He reaches us and playfully grabs my chin.

I tighten my lips, smirking at my inside joke.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Jenson. I’ll have a final decision for you in a day or so. Then, I assume the contracts will be ready to sign?”

The semi-balding man takes my check and slips it into the depths of the briefcase before sealing it inside.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll just need the certified cashier’s checks and then you’ll get the keys.”

I take a deep breath and it finally begins to hit me… I’m really doing this.

T.J. squints his eyes and moves them from the realtor to me, trying to decipher our dealings. I extend my hand and give a firm shake to seal the deal.

“Please call my office if you have any questions.” He nods to both me and then T.J. before lifting the handle to his case. “If you like, I can leave you here to take measurements. I’ll be back to lock up in about an hour.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jenson. That’ll be perfect.” I take out my trusty tape measure from my bag and imagine where I’ll start first. The windows? I could have custom lettering done. The display case? It looks like it needs a new facing. Ah! So many places to start!

Mr. Jenson waves behind him as he leaves the kitchen. It’s not long after that I hear the front door closing.

“All right, what’s going on?” T.J. crosses his arms in just the way he does when he’s trying to look serious.

I shrug my shoulders and move my eyes around the room. “You’re looking at what might be the newest business in Chisolm. The best damn bakery this town has ever seen!”

T.J. arches his eyebrow. “You serious?”

I bob my head up and down, wildly, barely able to contain my excitement.

“Yup. It came to me about a week ago. Why go home where I’ll be slaving away for my mom’s business until I’m able to find the right time to open one of my own, when I can do it here, now?”

T.J. looks over my head, to the back of the outdated service kitchen. “This is going to be a lot of work. You’re really going to do this? You’re staying here in Chisolm?”

I press my lips together, going over the long checklist of things that will be needed to get this place off the ground and suddenly feel daunted.

“You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” I cringe and wait for his answer.

He uncrosses his bulging arms and scratches his chin with one finger, thinking.

“I think… it’s fucking fantastic!”

My eyes widen, and I practically jump up and down.

“You do? Really? Oh my God. This is so crazy! This is so scary! What the hell am I doing?”

I’m laughing, nearly on the verge of tears, and shaking all at the same time.

T.J. reaches out to hold my shoulders, forcing my involuntary little spasms to stop.

“You’re doing what you want, grabbing life by the balls and taking a risk. It’s fucking brave. It’s fucking sexy as hell….”

I close my opened mouth quick.
What did he just say?

“You-you think I’m sexy?” I’m astonished.

T.J. slits his eyes, shifting his head a little bit as if he’s judging the sincerity of my question.

“You know damn well I think you’re the sexiest chick I’ve ever seen.”

I feel my eyelids grow heavy. “You-you think taking a risk is a
good
thing?”

He laughs. “Yeah. Some risks are good. This is a good one.”

I don’t know if it’s the rush of adrenaline of opening up my own shop or from him telling me he thinks I’m sexy, but, in this moment, in this instance… I feel fearless.

“What about
this
risk?” I lean forward and step up on my tip-toes to touch my lips to his, softly gliding over them as I gauge the willingness of his own mouth.

“Is this a good risk?” I whisper, the movements of my lips pressing further into his, begging for the affection to be returned.

His lips are tight, rigid. His eyes are open, focused on me as I stare into them. The large hands on my shoulders remain, but are not as reassuring as they once were.

I can see him fighting against himself, the same way he gets anytime we take our flirting far enough to the point where it’s no longer play.

I find myself breathing hard and shallow, waiting for the rejection that he always seems to agonizingly deliver.

Just when I’m sure it’s about to come, when I mentally prepare myself once again for the heartache, his hands move down my arms, slipping behind my back at the narrowest part of me, crossing themselves tight to lock me in.

The hard breathing ceases all together as I push the pause button. What. Is. Happening?

He blinks, the movement drawing itself out as everything is stretching in slow motion.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s good
or
bad, cupcake. It’s a risk we just gotta take”

My stomach drops and my ears begin to ring, registering the words he’s just spoken. Holy shit… we’re actually gonna do it. No more games, no more skirting around it, coming dangerously close before backing off.

I blink once, opening to see him nearer. I blink again and then he’s right there, closer, millimeters from me. I blink a final time and I finally feel his kiss, all-consuming and strong as it washes over me.

I lift my arms to lock around his neck and pull closer. His throat grumbles as I stroke my fingers across the base of his collar, under the shaggy hairline. The deep rumble of noise is unlike anything I’ve heard before, and most definitely not like any of the good old blue-blood fraternity boys I’ve kissed. It does something to me, triggering some innate response deep in my feminine DNA, and my back arches, pressing me closer to him.

I feel every indent, every hard curve of him… and I like it.

His tongue shows no mercy, drawing my own out to match the scorching way it caresses mine. Every move, every touch is just how I imagined it to be and so much more.

In the swiftest of all moves, his hands reach from my lower back to cup under me and lift quick, placing me on the cold metal countertop behind me. The sudden change of temperature against my skin is sobering as the hem of my skirt rides up, and makes my heart dangerously skip a beat.

I breathe out from the shock of it, breaking the connection our lips share. T.J. isn’t in a position to stop so his lips simply move down the arch of my jaw. I feel my forehead furrow and my eyes close tight as I relish in the delicious torment of his moving mouth on my sensitive skin.

He presses his way in closer to the counter’s edge, my legs spread to each side to accommodate his pushing my skirt up further as I hug him with my thighs.

His thumbs begin to move in strong circles, rotating and massaging through my thin top, playing with the edge until they’ve moved past it to slip under and find my flesh.

The skin on skin contact is electrifying, and I call out in a panting whisper. My teeth somehow find the drop of his earlobe and close around the soft skin, tugging gently to inflict the same amount of sensory torture onto him.

He growls and instantly moves to reclaim my mouth before it punishes him further. The flesh of our lips mold to each other, the hardness of our tongues ebb and flow, intertwined around the other’s.

T.J.’s hands continue their exploration, over my stomach, my sides, my lace-covered breasts...

“I wanna take each one of these in my mouth and drive you wild enough to make you scream,” the pads of his thumbs circle around the hardened peaks under the floral-embroidered bra.

I bite my lip imagining what those dirty-talking lips would feel like latched on and fulfilling that promise.