MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (42 page)

              “I’ll tell you what,” Anders said. “Why don’t I leave you with this?” He set the bottle he’d drawn the sample from on the counter. “It’ll be enough to get you started while I finish bottling up the rest.”

              “You are sweet, aren’t you?” Ahanti said. She took the bottle and slid it into her apron pocket. “Thank you for this. I’ll have fun with it.”

              Anders gave her a look that was pure hunger. She wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by pushing any harder. “So I’ll see you Wednesday?”

              He nodded. “A-yup.” He headed toward Sweet Nothing’s front door. “I’ll see you then.” Another tourist couple was headed toward the bakery’s door, and Anders held it open to usher them inside. “Folks, you’re going to want to try the danishes. This woman can bake like a dream.”

              Ahanti went to bed early most nights. Sweet Nothings had a loyal band of customers who would be waiting at the door at 6 am. Making sure they had fresh donuts and pastry to enjoy required Ahanti to get into the bakery’s kitchen shortly after 3 in the morning. Staying up late wasn’t something she really did.

              But tonight, Ahanti couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking through that morning’s interaction with Anders. There was something about the tall cowboy that got to her. He was shy – something that Ahanti definitely was not – and she had the sense it would take a lot to really get him talking about anything besides his beehives.

              Which was a shame, because he really had a gorgeous voice. Lots of men in these parts spoke with a deep Texas drawl, but Anders sounded different. She couldn’t quite place his accent, but it didn’t sound like here. There was no high, dry, sunbaked tone to his voice; instead, listening to Anders talk brought to mind cool green meadows, where the mountain breezes blew and everything was peaceful.

              It was a pleasure to think about Anders in that setting. He’d look good there, with his blond hair and blue eyes. Ahanti liked the fact that Anders was taller than her – most men weren’t – and that he was so built that she didn’t feel gigantic next to him.  You wouldn’t think that raising bees was all that physical of an occupation, but the cowboy had some serious muscles on him. And Ahanti could tell he liked his food. Anders’ stomach was a soft curve, perfect for snuggling against. She smiled at the thought. In her experience, men who liked to eat were always better lovers.

              She shook her head. “What am I thinking?” she asked her empty apartment. “There’s no sense going down roads that go nowhere.”

              It was hot, and Ahanti decided that a shower would help her handle her frustrations. She slipped a cap over her short, tight curls and started the water, letting it run while she shed her clothes. The bathroom filled with steam, creating misty clouds that felt like a caress against Ahanti’s ebony skin. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror; dark, with generous, round breasts and a wide set of hips.  Turning to the side, just a little, revealed the full curve of her ass; if Anders was ever up for a booty call, she thought, he’d have plenty to work with.

              She stepped into the shower, enjoying the way the water beat against her back. Baking is a physically demanding job. After a day of moving heavy bags of flour and creating cakes, her muscles were sore and tired. The massaging beat felt good. Ahanti could feel the tension melting out of her body.

              The sweet scent of jasmine from her bodywash filled the room. Ahanti slowly and leisurely washed up, letting cascades of white bubbles glide over her body before they puddled at her feet.  She took her time washing her breasts, pushing the pouf slowly up and over her heavy curves before pulling them down over her chocolate-colored nipples.

              Inexplicably, during this process, her mind drifted back to Anders. Ahanti smiled. She wouldn’t mind sharing a shower with that cowboy. Just saying that to him would make Anders blush, she knew- and she wondered if he turned red everywhere when he was embarrassed.

              Ahanti’s hands went lower and lower as her thoughts did likewise. She was very curious about what Anders would look like underneath his clothes. Her fingertips had just brushed against her most sensitive bits when she thought about undoing his belt buckle and the zipper on his blue jeans. She bit back a gasp…and then froze, as someone started pounding on her apartment door.

              “Wait! What?” she shouted, jumping out of the shower and hurriedly grabbing for a towel. “Who’s there? What’s going on?”

              There was no answer. The pounding continued while Ahanti quickly dried off and wrapped herself in her robe. She tied the sash tight and went to her door.

              “Who is it?” she shouted. “You’ve got two seconds to answer me or I’m calling the cops!”

              The pounding stopped. “It’s Lav!” There was a pause. “Let me in. I want to talk to you!”

              “Are you crazy?” Ahanti replied. “Do you even know what time it is?”

              There was a long, long pause. And then Ahanti heard Lav’s familiar voice, sounding lost and confused. “No?”

              She opened the door a fraction of an inch. “If I open this door, am I going to regret it?”

              Lav was clearly not entirely sober. He was swaying on his feet. Ahanti could smell the beer on him. “I don’t think so,” he replied. He pulled open his leather jacket, showing Ahanti his waistband. “I left my gun at home.”

              Ahanti, despite everything, laughed. “You do realize that isn’t how you’re supposed to make a girl feel better.” She opened the door wider and leaned against the doorjamb, using her body to block the entranceway to her apartment. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

              “I was thinking about when you called me a bad Dad,” Lav said. He looked at her, and his eyes were teary. “That shit aint right. You don’t know how it is with me.”

              “Lav, why don’t you sit down?” Ahanti said. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

              The biker nodded, and slumped to the floor on the other side of the hallway. From there, he began to explain how he’d tried, really, really tried, to have relationships with the mothers of his children, but it had just never worked out. “They want me when they want to have a good time,” he groaned, “but for all the rest of it? The love and support thing? Being a family? They don’t want a guy like me for that.”

              “That’s hard, Lav,” Ahanti said. Her mind was racing. He was obviously in no condition to drive home, and she definitely didn’t feel safe inviting the drunk biker into her apartment. But he couldn’t stay where he was – the last thing Ahanti needed was to irritate her neighbors. Calling the cops wasn’t really a great idea.

              “No one will give me a chance!” Lav wailed. “Like you. I ask you out all the time, and you never say yes. We could go for coffee. We could go to the museum. But you don’t even give me a chance to show you what a nice guy I am.”

              Ahanti sighed. “Because you don’t say “Hey, want to get coffee sometime?” She shook her head. “You act like you’re going to rip my clothes off at the first opportunity.”

              “That’s only because you’re beautiful,” Lav said, waving his hand. “If you were ugly, I’d never act like that.”

              “Gee, that makes it much better.” Ahanti shook her head. “Lav, I’m sorry I made you feel like I thought you were a bad Dad. That’s not what I meant to have happen.”

              Lav looked up at her from the floor. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you out for coffee sometime?”

              “I don’t know about that,” Ahanti said. “Why don’t we talk about that when you’re sober?”

              Lav looked up and the look in his eyes was not exactly nice. “I hope you’re ready to wait a while,” he said. He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a silver flask. He unscrewed the top and took a big swig. “Because I’m pretty drunk right now and I’ve got plans to stay that way.”

              Ahanti stepped backwards, and shut her apartment door. She heard Lav mutter “Bitch!” when she slid the chain into place.

              “This is nuts,” she said to herself. She paced through her tiny living room into her kitchen.  “What am I going to do?”

              The tiny bottle of honey sitting on the counter caught her eye.

              “I could call Anders,” she said. “He’s tough. He’s smart. He’ll know what to do.” Ahanti laughed to herself when she realized that she didn’t know for a fact any of those three statements were true. “Well, he could bring some bees with him.”

              She called the number on the honey jar label. Anders answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

              “Anders?”

              “Yup?”

              “This is Ahanti.” She paused. “From Sweet Nothings Bake Shop?”

              “I know who you are.” Ahanti could almost hear Anders smiling. “I was just thinking about you.”

              In the hallway outside her apartment, Lav began singing. Ahanti couldn’t quite place the tune, but the word “Fuck” featured prominently in the lyrics. He was loud, and getting louder by the minute.

              “Listen,” she said. “I need your help.”

              “What’s wrong?”

              “Remember the obnoxious guy from my shop this morning?” Anders grunted his assent, and Ahanti continued. “He’s here, outside my door. He’s pissed because I won’t go out with him.”

              “And what’s he doing?” Anders asked.

              “Right now?” Ahanti replied, “he’s singing.”

              “I’ll be right there,” Anders said. “Where do you live?”

              Ahanti gave him her address.

              “It’ll be about ten minutes,” Anders said. “Just sit pretty.”

              “Okay,” Ahanti said. Out in the hallway there was an ominous thump. “Just please hurry. I’m getting scared.”

              “On my way.”

              What followed was the longest five minutes of Ahanti’s life. After Lav finished his song, he stood up. She could hear him walking back and forth in front of her door. “September 19th my daughter Adele was born. She’s my oldest girl. Her brother was born the fourth of July.” Lav knocked against Ahanti’s door once. “That’s one set of kids. Then I had three babies with Maria. Juan Carlos on May 10th, Gregory on February the 11th and Little Maria. Her birthday is… well, fuck. I don’t know when her birthday is. I never seen her since she was two years old. Her mother decided she had all kinds of things she needed to do and took them all back to Mexico with her.” He wailed, a long lonely sound that reminded Ahanti of a wolf baying at the moon. “That was six years ago now.”

              Ahanti opened the door. “Lav. I’m sorry.”

              He stopped his pacing. “It really sucks.” Lav pounded his fist against his chest. “People look at me. They see I ride a motorcycle. They see the tattoos. They think I don’t have a heart. That I don’t feel nothing.” His voice was growing louder with every word. “Even the god damned mother of my children. Do you know what she told me?”

              “No,” Anders said, from the top of the stairs. “Why don’t you tell me what she said?”

              Lav attempted to whirl toward Anders. This would have worked if he wasn’t so drunk, but he was very, very drunk. Instead of whirling, he spun and fell forward, landing flat on his stomach with his head up against the wall.

              “Oh, buddy,” Anders went to Lav’s side. “That looked like it hurt. Are you all right?” He helped Lav sit up. “Dude, you’re bleeding.”

              Lav’s eyes went to Anders’. “Is it bad?”

              Anders shook his head. “It looks like you scratched your forehead pretty good,” he said. “and maybe a couple of stitches wouldn’t hurt.” He glanced up at Ahanti. “Maybe get you checked out for a concussion.”

              “Fuck, man.” Lav struggled to his feet. “I ain’t going to no god damn hospital.”

              “Do you want me to drive you?” Anders asked. “Or we can get you an ambulance.”

              Lav raised his fingers to his forehead, feeling his wound. It was only a small scratch, but it had produced enough blood to coat at least three fingertips. He stared at his crimson digits a moment and then laughed.

              “This? I’m not going to the hospital for this.” He leered at Anders. “You ever been shot, Bee Boy?” He tapped his chest. “I have. 9 mm right in the leg.” Lav started to tug his pants leg up to show the scar, but this was an operation with far too many steps for him to navigate in his current condition. “And I didn’t go to the hospital for that!”

              “Wow,” Anders said slowly. “That’s pretty tough.”

              Lav nodded. “So don’t tell me I need to go to the god damn hospital.” He staggered away from Ahanti’s door, past Anders, and toward the exit. “I can take care of myself.”

              “I see that,” Anders said.

              “That’s right,” Lav agreed. “Don’t you forget it.” He then promptly fell down the stairs. It was a loud, crashing descent that had all of Ahanti’s neighbors opening their doors.