Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

75. Honey Badger

SEVENTY-FIVE

Honey Badger

I woke up late, had lunch in Grass Valley and then took a long bike ride down Highway 49 and then up 80, then 174. A little town called Colfax was my favorite. It’s even smaller than Nevada City.

On 174 there were orchards as far as the eye could see, and a tucked away, lone restaurant called The Happy Apple Kitchen where they made their own pies. Turned out they owned the orchards and had for over a hundred years, each ancestor passing it down. It was the family business even in modern times. This restaurant is a place to stay social and also sell homemade baked goods made from their own peaches and apples.

I had a slice of peach pie that made me wish I still ate like I used to. I would have wolfed that whole thing down.

But I like my abs too much, so fuck it.

I climbed back on my Harley and headed up the two-lane highway through miles of snow-covered pine trees in ice-cold air that made me feel more alive.

The sun was setting by the time I got back to hear from the owner of the Bed & Breakfast that my ongoing reservation had been cancelled. When I got pissed, he explained that a man named Jett Cocker had called, and that he’d moved me to the National Hotel. The owner had looked a little irritated by the insult of it, but he was nowhere near as pissed as me.

“Jett, you fucker, why’d you go and do that?” I growl into the phone.

He chuckles, “Why’d you go and tell me about the hotel?”

“You didn’t have to take action on it!”

I can hear Jett’s smug smirk through the phone as he says, “Yeah, I fuckin’ did. You have the finesse of a drunk bull. If I don’t put you in close proximity to her then she won’t have a chance to grow to like you.”

Shoving the clothes I brought with me into my saddlebags I tell him with a rare surge of uncertainty, “She’s out of my league, man.”

Jett’s voice gets serious. “What is your gut telling you?”

“That it’s her.”

“Was my gut wrong with Luna?”

“No.”

“How long did it take? What did I have to go through?”

“A fuckin’ shitload.”

“Exactly. If you’re givin’ up already then you don’t deserve her.”

Buckling up my saddlebags I toss them over my shoulder and head out of the room, twenty bucks on the nightstand to help the maid get over the mess I left her. “You pay for the broken lamp?”

“You broke a lamp? How?”

“Don’t ask,” I mutter through gritted teeth as I make my way outside. This Bed & Breakfast is so tiny there’s no desk to shout, Hey, I broke a lamp. Put it on my friend’s card, so I tell Jett, “Since you paid for this place, you get to call them and add that to it.”

Jett laughs, “You’re not going to tell me how you broke a lamp on your own, when there was no one there and no crazy sex involved? What…you toss it at a wall out of sexual frustration?”

“Nope.” I hang up on him with an irritated glint in my eyes. I hate that he knows me that well.

I decide to leave my bike where it is and walk the three blocks downhill on Broad Street. There’s covered parking here and my baby likes to stay warm when it snows.

The holiday sounds grow louder as I near the festival and with the way the twinkle lights are glowing in the grey light of dusk, it looks – I hate to say it – fuckin’ magical. This is my favorite time of night. Always has been. There’s this fistful of seconds where the sky matches cement and it’s like there’s no difference between the two.

I love that shit.

Peaceful.

No separation.

Everything’s the same.

We’re all the same, for that short chunk of time.

The hotel’s door creaks from the cold as I stroll in and head for the empty front desk, glancing left and right for Margaret.

Is she off work?

The restaurant over to the left is busy as hell. Bet this is their biggest season. When I was here the last couple nights the only thing I checked out was her. Now that I’m alone in the foyer, there’s antique furniture everywhere. Old stuff in cases like photographs, dishes, one old ski with metal clamps to hold your feet in, and an ancient gun. Now that’s interesting. Wonder if it shoots.

Her soft voice comes up from behind me. “Honey Badger?”

Damn if my heart didn’t stop for a second. Turning around I act cool and throw her a nod. “Hey.”

“See anything you like?” She blushes. “I meant the antiques, not me.”

Admiring her awkward cuteness I walk over to her and trail my gaze over every curve of her face, lingering on her lips. “I do see something I like.”

Her blush deepens. How’s that for finesse, Jett? Suck on that one time, buddy.

“I got a room here.”

“I know.”

Neither of us moves. After a moment I smirk at her. “Can I get a key or somethin’?”

She laughs and shakes the weirdness of the moment out of her head as she walks to her desk. “Of course. I’m sorry. I was just…I don’t know.”

“I make you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

She blinks up from behind the old wood desk, a key floating toward my outstretched hand. “You want me nervous?”

“I want you interested. And that red in your cheeks, I don’t mind at all.” I cover her hand with my own, holding a beat before I take the iron key and check it out. “Nice. Classy.” Adjusting the saddlebags weight on my shoulder I ask, “Where do I go?”

“The Bridal Suite is on…”

“Whoa, wait. What?”

“The Bridal Suite is on…”

“Hang on. The first part. He didn’t.” I shake my head, mentally cussing the fuck out of Jett. I’m going to get him back somethin’ good one of these days.

“You didn’t want that room?” Her blue eyes are big and I’m not sure if she hoped I wanted it, or if it freaked her out after what I said to her.

“I didn’t even know the room existed. That’s my buddy playing a joke on me because I told him about you.” Glancing to the ground I mutter, “Shit. I really have to start thinking before I speak. Didn’t mean to tell you that.”

She’s smiling though, like I’m charming. I’ve seen Tonk get that look from Carmen so I’m familiar with it. But it’s never been directed at me by anybody. I stand a little straighter, my chest broadened with testosterone.

“Why don’t you show me?”

Her smile flickers. “To your room?”

“Sure. I’ll follow you.”

Her graceful hands fly around in search of something to do while she mentally loses her marbles for a second.

But she doesn’t turn me down.

Nope.

From the way her lips just parted and the explosion of pheromones, she’s into it.

Suddenly I’m hard and having a hard time hiding that fact, drinking her in as she glides to the staircase, that long Victorian gown hypnotically swaying from side to side.

There’s something powerfully erotic about how hidden she is under all that fluff.

I’m an ass-man.

My imagination is running wild.

At the end of the long hallway on the top floor she stops at a door and whispers, “Here it is.”

“Give me a tour?”

She meets my eyes and by her reaction I know she sees my desire for her. But I know what happened to her last night, so I tell her, “I won’t try anything.”

She opens her hand and I place the key in it.

Was that disappointment I saw?

Does she want me to try something?

The door opens to a warm room. There’s a working fireplace and only antique furniture, including a white bed that looks really girly and delicate. I glance to it and give it a look.

“Is there a problem?” Margaret asks.

“That’s not going to make it.”

“Excuse me?”

“If I get my way, you and me are on that thing, and when that happens, it’s going to break. No doubt about it.”