Show Me The Honey (Sweet & Dirty BBW #1)(2)By: Cathryn Cade
Since she left the coffee machine set up every afternoon before she went home, all she had to do now was power it on. She waited to hear the familiar sounds of hot water burbling through the pipes, then reached up to flip the boombox on to a local country station. As Blake Shelton crooned about riding in his pickup truck, she turned to survey her domain.
The BeeHive’s signature yellow Formica counters gleamed. Six matching tables lined the front window and arced around the corner toward the restroom.
Outside, the spring dawn lightened the eastern sky over the mountains and the parking lot in a wash of cool green and gray. She glanced at the clock on the wall over the glassed-in front door. Five minutes to six o’clock.
Just time to step into the bathroom for a quick glance in the mirror over the sink. Her face was still pink from the chill, but that would soon be replaced by the flush of heat from the grill. Mascara and a dusting of taupe shadow emphasized her brown eyes. Peach lip gloss moistened her lips. Blusher defined the underside of her cheekbones in her rounded face.
She bundled her shoulder-length dark blonde hair up on the back of her head and pulled a black scrunchie from her pocket to hold it in a ponytail, then fluffed her long bangs. Thank goodness her hair was wavy and full of body, so she didn’t have to do much with it on these early mornings. It needed highlights, but not happening on her current budget.
She tugged her tee down over her rounded hips, with a last look in the mirror to confirm that the snug black yoga pants looked at least okay on her round ass. Fortunately she had long legs to balance the extra weight she carried. And her boobs were nice.
As an older customer had once told her with a twinkle in his eyes, a well-padded cook was a sign of good cooking.
Anyhoo, time to get to work. With a bounce in her step, Lindi hurried back to the hallway, and snapped another switch. Outside, the neon sign flickered to life, the yellow arcs of an old-fashioned beehive framed by the words BeeHive Café. That done, she crossed to the front door and unlocked it.
A single headlight appeared as if summoned around the curve in the narrow, winding road along the lake. A big, gleaming black and silver Harley rolled into the parking lot and pulled to a stop before the café.
Lindi tensed, but when the lone rider was not followed by others, she relaxed. Not a rowdy crowd of Spokane or Silver Valley bikers coming back from a night’s revelry and mayhem. Just one man.
He kicked down the stand of his big bike and lifted one long leg over it, rolling to his feet with easy grace. In his leather jacket, faded jeans and boots, he was an imposing figure. He pulled off his dark stocking hat and stuffed it in a pocket, then raised one gloved hand to push back his sandy blond hair.
Lindi sighed. With those broad shoulders and cocky stance, and that sexy-messy hair, he could model for Harley cycles or men’s cologne
Their eyes met through the glass door. Slowly, his square face crinkled in a smile, his white teeth gleaming.
Realizing she was gawking from a lighted window, Lindi stepped back abruptly, her face flaming. She was a business owner, not a star-struck teenager. Time to act like it.
By the time the biker pushed the door open and walked in, bringing with him a waft of cool, piney morning air, Lindi was behind the counter, busying herself with the coffee service.
“Morning,” she called over her shoulder. “Coffee to start your day?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she turned. Standing just inside the door, her customer stood, booted feet apart, slowly stripping off his gloves as he cast an encompassing look around the small space and back at her. He stuffed the gloves in a pocket of his black leather jacket. Only then did he move forward the few steps to the seat nearest the open end of the counter.
He straddled the stool and sat, gaze intent on her in a way that made her feel as if the two bees embroidered on her apron had escaped and were buzzing around in her middle, a sensation that wavered between delicious and unnerving.
His eyes were light hazel under thick lashes and heavy brows a few shades darker than his hair. His skin was tanned, with creases that said he smiled or squinted into the sun a lot. His wide jaw and the pugnacious set of his mouth said he was not a man to be messed with.