MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (41 page)
Authors: Alix Labelle
Alpha Cowboy Versus Bad Boy Biker
“So where’s your partner in crime this morning, Ella?” Ahanti asked, pouring steaming coffee into the mug that rested on the counter in front of one of her favorite customers. It was unusual to see the older lady alone. She was generally with her best friend Sofia, a tiny great-grandmother who was barely five foot tall and maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. The two of them had made a tradition of enjoying their morning coffee and pastry at Sweet Nothings, Ahanti’s bakery.
“You are never going to believe this,” Ella said. She leaned forward, as if she was about to share a secret, but didn’t lower her voice at all. Ella only had one volume setting, and it was loud. “You know those Antique Roadshow people are in town?”
Ahanti nodded.
“Well, her Felipe went down there. And they filmed him. He’s going to be on the television.”
“Big Felipe?” Ahanti asked with a raised eyebrow. That wasn’t something she’d expect from Sofia’s banker son.
Ella shook her head. “No, Little Felipe.”
“Oh, boy.” Little Felipe was nothing like his father. Ahanti knew the family had pretty much given up hope that someday he’d have enough ambition to be a slacker. “So what happened?”
“He had some baseball cards,” Ella explained. “And on one, an old one, the player was black. Like you.”
Ahanti nodded. “People are really interested in those old Negro League baseball players. That might be worth some money.”
“That’s what the Antique guy said!” Ella was excited. “He had one of those cards. And it could be worth $10,000!”
“Wow!” Ahanti said. “Good for Felipe!”
“Well, you’d think that. But do you know what that malparido said?”
“What’s that?”
Ella looked indignant. “He said, “Well, that is good news because my parents have decided they don’t love me anymore and are kicking me out of the house.” Right on camera, he said that.”
“Oh boy.” Ahanti shook her head. She knew Sofita was not going to appreciate having her family’s business aired like that. “Not that it’s not well past time they made that boy stand on his own two feet, but oh boy.”
Ella nodded. “He has no sense. He is an idiot. And now Sofita is refusing to come out of her house. She says she is too embarrassed.”
“Why is she embarrassed?” Ahanti shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone she knows knows exactly how Little Felipe is. This is not news.”
“But to have him say on television that his parents are putting him on the street…” Ella’s shrug was a masterpiece, communicating all of Sofita’s fears without a single word. “She doesn’t want people thinking they’re that kind of family.”
“I don’t know a family that wouldn’t be fed up with Felipe at this point,” Ahanti said. “He’s what? Thirty-five?”
“Thirty seven,” Ella said.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ahanti said. “I want you to go see Sofita and tell her that I’m making lime tarts tonight.” She waved her finger at the older woman. “And there’s no delivery service for these tarts! If she wants one – and I know she does! – she’s going to have to get her little butt down here tomorrow morning.”
Ella laughed. “I think that may just do the trick.”
There was a loud rumble of exhaust outside of Sweet Nothing’s windows and Ella looked up, eyes wide. “Uh oh, Ahanti,” the older woman said. “He’s back again.”
Ahanti stood up straight and smoothed down her apron. “Don’t you worry, darling. I’ve got this.”
Sweet Nothing’s front door bells jingled as Laz Romero walked in. He was wearing dirty jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather vest with a gang patch on the back. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His mirrored sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head, and he was smiling.
“Good morning, gorgeous!” he said to Ahanti. “How are you this morning?”
“So far, so good,” she replied. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m interested in something that’s not on the menu,” Laz said. His brown eyes lingered for a long, uncomfortable moment on Ahanti’s large chest, and then flickered up to meet the bakery owner’s not-amused gaze. “What?”
“We’ve had this conversation before, Laz,” Ahanti said. “And I haven’t even begun to have enough coffee to deal with this kind of nonsense today.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions…” the biker protested.
“Am I?” she replied, one hand on her hip. “Am I really?”
Laz laughed. “I don’t know why you won’t go out with me,” he said. “I could show you a really good time.” He let his eyes slide over the lush curves of Ahanti’s body. “Seriously.”
The front door bells jingled again. A couple walked in, clearly tourists. They wore matching plaid shirts and khaki shorts with too many pockets. They took one glance at Laz and Ahanti, turned on their heel and walked right back out again.
“You’re scaring off my business, Laz,” Ahanti snapped.
“I am your business,” he countered. “I need to order three dozen cupcakes. For my kid’s birthday at school.”
Ahanti took a deep breath and pulled out her order pad. “Okay. What kind of cupcakes?”
“Birthday cupcakes,” Laz said. “That’s all she said. And they can’t have no peanuts in them.”
“Any idea on color or flavor or any of that?” Ahanti asked.
Laz shook his head. “Not really, no.”
“How old is your kid?” Ahanti asked, trying to get some idea of what type of cupcakes would work best.
Laz pulled out his phone.
“Seriously?” Ahanti said. “You have to check to see how old your kid is?” She laughed. “You want to know why I won’t go out with you? There’s your reason, right there.”
“Hey, if you had as many kids as I do, you’d have a hard time keeping track too,” Laz replied. His grin was very close to a leer. “When all the ladies want it, who am I to tell them no?”
“That is bullshit,” Ella said, peering at them from over her coffee. “I have nine children, eleven grandchildren, and four great grandchildren.” She smiled at Ahanti. “And I can tell you each and every one of their birthdays without checking anything.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Ahanti said quickly, cutting that recitation off at the pass. She looked at Laz. “When do you need the cupcakes?”
“Snack time is eleven o’clock,” he replied.
“Today?” Ahanti shook her head, mentally adding a rush charge to the order. “Nothing like waiting until the last minute, Laz.”
“No, no, baby.” Laz was looking at his phone. “I need them for eleven o’clock on Wednesday.”
“Don’t call me baby.” Ahanti turned and started walking toward the kitchen. “I’ll have your cupcakes ready for you Wednesday morning.”
“But what about what I want now?” Laz said.
“Is it on the menu?” Ahanti asked, without looking over her shoulder.
Laz sighed. “Could I please get a banana nut muffin? And a coffee?”
“To go!” Ella helpfully suggested.
Laz laughed. “Of course.”
Ahanti packaged up the banana muffin and poured a cup of to go coffee for Laz. “Milk, no sugar, right?” she asked him.
“You do care!” he said.
Ahanti laughed. “You are incorrigible.”
“How do you think he got all those kids?” Ella quipped.
The front door bells jingled again. Ahanti looked up to see Anders Egland standing there. She clapped her hands. “My honey man is here!”
Laz looked at Anders, clearly hostile. The two men were a study in opposites. Where Laz was short and dark, Anders was tall and blond; instead of biker leathers, he had on blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a dusky tan Stetson. “He’s your honey?”
“Egland Honey Products,” Anders said, stepping toward the counter and extending a hand to Laz with a big smile. “We’ve got the best hives in the county. Maybe you’ve seen our stand at the farmer’s market?”
Laz shook Ander’s hand cautiously, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “You raise bees?”
“Yup.” Anders grinned. “It’s just like raising cattle, but there’s one big difference.”
Laz cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“You ride a much smaller horse.” Anders stepped back as Ahanti handed over Laz’s coffee and muffin.
“So I’ll see you Wednesday morning?” she said to the biker.
“Of course,” Laz replied.
“You’d better be here,” Ahanti said. She didn’t want to get saddled with three dozen birthday cupcakes.
“Have I ever let you down before?” Laz asked.
“I’m not going to give you the opportunity to start.” She waved Laz toward the door. “Now shoo. I’ve got work to do.”
Laz raised the coffee cup to Anders and smiled. “Good meeting you, man.” Then he left. His motorcycle was loud enough to be heard within the shop. Anders didn’t start talking until Laz’s bike roared away.
“Somebody needs a new exhaust.”
“I think he likes it like that,” Ahanti said with a smile. “It makes him even more obnoxious than he would normally be.”
Anders laughed. “Whatever works.” He pulled a small bottle out of his shirt pocket. “Listen, you know how I’ve been talking about the blended honeys?”
Ahanti nodded. “I liked that one you did that had the touch of lavender in it.”
“I know. You’re going to love this.” Anders stepped behind the counter to grab a spoon. He poured a tiny bit of the amber colored honey into it for Ahanti to taste. “Try this.”
She took the spoon from him and slid it into her mouth. Her brown eyes widened immediately. “What is that? I know the lavender. But what’s the rest of it?”
Anders beamed. His smile went from ear to ear, and little crinkles of joy formed in the corners of his eyes. “You like it?”
“Like it?” Ahanti smiled. “Let’s just say you’re not getting out of here with the rest of that bottle. That’s staying here with me.” She licked the spoon again. “That’s gorgeous, whatever it is.”
“It’s fireweed,” Anders said. “It grows in the Pacific Northwest, in the woods. The bushes get about this tall,” he said, holding his hand out at shoulder height. “They’ve got big spikes of bright pink flowers that the bees just love. I found a guy out there north of Seattle who’s willing to supply me, at least enough to keep working on these blends.” He cocked his head. “Do you think this is something you could use in the shop?”
“Absolutely,” Ahanti said. “I’d love to do just a basic butter cookie with it first, to see how the flavor shines on its own. And then it’s a matter of finding the complementary taste that really makes it pop.”
“It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than my usual honey,” Anders said apologetically. “This guy knows what he’s got, and he’s charging accordingly.”
“I don’t care,” Ahanti said. “I’ll take every drop you’ve got. My customers are going to love this flavor.”
“I knew there was a reason I came to see you first,” Anders laughed.
“Is that the only reason?” Ahanti smiled flirtatiously. She liked the big, blond cowboy, even though their conversations had always been strictly professional.
“Well.” Anders blushed scarlet, a red flush that appeared inside his neckline and travelled all the way to his forehead. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Ahanti decided to be merciful and turned away from the moment before Anders got any more uncomfortable. “Can I hook you up with some coffee before you go?”
“Sure,” Anders said. “Black and strong, please.”
“Just like you like your women,” Ahanti said with a laugh. “No sugar?”
Anders shook his head. His blush had faded, but not by much. “I’m sweet enough already.”
Their fingertips didn’t quite touch when she handed him the cup of coffee, but a glance passed between them that let each of them know the other was thinking about it. There was an awkward moment, and then Ahanti said, “So. Um. Yeah. When will you be bringing me that honey?”
“Would Wednesday morning work for you?” Anders asked.
Ahanti pouted. “That long? I was looking forward to playing in the kitchen tonight.”
