CHAPTER FIVE
Finn
my sleep-deprived delirium, I almost wondered if I had teleported her out of my thoughts and into our back alley. Or maybe I was sleepwalking and this was all a dream?
How else could I explain why Beatrix was suddenly standing there in front of me after weeks of only seeing her from afar?
If this was a dream, though, it was quickly turning into a nightmare, because one glance at her and I could see that she was red-faced and pissed off about something. And Jackson, fucking Jackson, was grinning like this was all the funniest shit he'd ever seen.
Even though we'd talked this out only a few hours ago, I couldn't help but seethe with anger that he'd managed to talk to her first. When he said we'd see what happened, I didn't think it'd be happening so soon.
He was clearly making the first move.
But that didn't mean I had to make it easy on him.
"Hey!" I called out. "Jacky-boy! Quit giving the poor girl shit and get back in here!"
Jackson started to protest. "We were just talking..."
"Thanks," Beatrix piped up, interrupting him. Her eyes flashed something that looked like gratitude to me, and I took that moment to treat myself to a nice long look at her up close.
Her hair was blonde. That was a surprise since from the tinted window I'd always assumed it was a lightish brown. It was cropped to her shoulders, and I could tell she tried to straighten it, because the early morning humidity was already starting to make her curls break free. They surrounded her face like a halo, and I saw bright pink cheeks, and even brighter pink lips. There was a smattering of freckles across her nose and a few more across the tops of her absolutely stunning breasts.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, and pinched my thighs to keep the blood from flowing to my dick. The desire was sudden and overpowering, but it was welcome too. Here I'd thought I was dead from overwork, but apparently, things down there still worked after all.
"You're from next door, right?" I heard myself say. I was already walking towards her, taking note of the way her eyes were bouncing back and forth warily between me and Jackson. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Finn."
"I—" she seemed to catch herself. "Beatrix. I'm Beatrix. But…" She licked her lips for a second so they showed wet and inviting. "Could you please call me Bee?"
"Of course," I said. Then I gestured towards Jackson who was shooting me the dirtiest of dirty looks. "I see you've already met this guy..."
"Your friend," Jackson piped up, making sure I couldn't disavow him if I tried.
"Right. Jacky was it?" Bee said, extending her hand.
I hid my smirk behind my hand as Jackson shot me a look that should have killed me dead on the spot. "Jackson," he corrected, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. His eyes flicked briefly — smugly — over to me before he brushed a kiss over her knuckles.
My fists balled at my side. "Bee, was there something you needed help with?" I asked, stepping closer and maybe giving Jackson just the slightest shoulder check. "You can throw that garbage in our dumpster if you need to." I stepped smoothly around Jackson. "I got this, Jacky. You can head back inside."
Bee looked between me and Jackson. "You've got a nice boss," she observed.
Jackson gave a short grunting laugh. "I don't have a boss," he said.
Bee blinked and looked between us. I tried to hold out, but Jackson's eyeballs were burning a hole in the back of my skull. "We're business partners," I finally explained. "I'm the business manager. He's the executive chef."
"Oh!" Bee's pretty pink lips formed a little 'o' of astonishment. "Wow, a chef huh?"
"It means chief," Jackson added. "As in, the one in charge."
"I'm sure she knows what a chef is."
"I'm not telling her. I'm telling you."
"That you're in charge?"
He smirked. "Sometimes you forget."
"Ha!" I scoffed. "Sure, you're in charge. In charge of the kitchen, that is."
"Which is the whole reason people come to restaurants in the first place."
"But there'd be no restaurant without customers," I reminded him.
Bee was staring at us both like we'd grown horns on our heads. This first impression was going downhill faster than the last time I tried skiing.
I glared at Jackson for a beat before turning back to Bee with a smile. "Here," I said, moving to her bag. "Let me throw this in for you. It looks heavy.
"Oh," she gasped, jumping out of my way. "You don't have to," she protested, but I was already tying it back up again. "It's just, you know, my garbage service, they stood me up again. Second time this month." She gave a short little laugh that was both regretful and amused, and all together charming. "I was hoping you guys might have room. Just this once."
I found myself nodding. "Of course," I said as I tossed it into our dumpster, then brushed my hands across my pants. "There," I told her. My mind was already spinning out several steps ahead. "I can put you in contact with our garbage service," I told her.
"You don't need to help me, it's okay," Bee said. Her voice was strangely tight.
I waved my hand. "It's nothing. No trouble at all."
"Really. I've got it."
"Finn," Jackson called out. It sounded like a warning, but I was already too far gone. Here it was. A problem I could actually fix. Something I could control. "I'll call them myself," I promised. "Obviously they do a better job, and they probably wouldn't mind doing a pickup, you know, since we're right next door to each other."
She looked at me wide-eyed. "Hey," she finally said, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. I waited, eager to hear her say it. "Thanks," she finally said.
A rush of triumph washed through me. "My pleasure," I told her. And I meant it.
She pulled her bottom lip up under her teeth, dragging it across. I found myself licking my own lips in response. Her lips were so full. Almost like pillows. So plump and pink.
"Is your store named for you?" Jackson called out, far too loudly.
I'd almost forgotten he was there.
"Ah, what now?" Bee asked, turning back to him.
"Your store. Honey Bee's? Are you the honey or the bee?"
"Ah, well." Bee looked down, avoiding Jackson's gaze. I allowed myself a little flush of victory. But when she looked back up again, her eyes were shining. A little grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "It's what my grandmother used to call me," she said, a chastened wistfulness in her voice. "Her little honeybee. Because of my name, of course. But also 'cause I love sweets so much." She gestured to her lush curves. "Obviously."
"Honey Bee," Jackson echoed, musing. "That's really cute."
"Perfect for a store like that," I added.
A beautiful, gratifying blush spread across her cheeks. Her eyes darted between from me to Jackson and then back to me again. I didn't like how often she was glancing at him. I wanted her to look at me and me only.
I bent forward, just a little. Just a test. Bee. I wonder if she'd taste as sweet as her shop smelled?
She licked her lips. I leaned in closer.
I was about to find out.
Then all at once there was a sudden buzzing sound. She stiffened in alarm. "Oh shit! My buns!" she gasped. And turned and grabbed ahold of the fence.
"Hey, you can use our door!" I called her, but she had already scaled the fence and leaped to the other side, scrambling up the back stairs and into the kitchen in the back of her store. Leaving me standing there with a dumbstruck look on my face, and the lingering scent of honey in the air.