MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) (50 page)
Authors: Claire Branson
“So you’re really going to make those cupcakes?” Anders asked. It was very early Wednesday morning. It wasn’t fair to say he’d spent every waking moment with Ahanti over the course of the previous day and a half, but it wouldn’t be fair to say he hadn’t, either. When he wasn’t tending to his bees or working on honey blends, Anders was very much enjoying spending time with Ahanti. There was no question that there was an immediate physical attraction between the two of them, but the pair had more in common than that. Each conversation revealed another bond between them: a mutual love of fine food, a passion for entrepreneurism, a hatred of potted plants…it was uncanny how much they had in common.
“I am,” Ahanti said. “He did order them, and I don’t want to have a situation where he comes in to pick them up and they’re not ready.” She was carefully putting expert swirls of white buttercream frosting on top of each cupcake. To her left sat a dish filled with balloon shaped sprinkles, in yellow, red and blue. “I’ve got these Happy Birthday picks I can put in at the last minute. And if he doesn’t show up?” She looked at her work critically. “These look good enough to eat.”
“They’re not the only ones,” Anders said. He stepped in close enough to steal a kiss.
“You’ve got to stop,” Ahanti said, swatting him away. “I’ve got work to do. Don’t your bees need a workout or something?”
“Bees are smart,” Anders replied. “They don’t even try to start their day until the sun is up.”
“I should have been a bee,” Ahanti replied.
“No, I like you exactly the way you are,” Anders said. He headed for the kitchen door. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go take care of some chores, but I want to be here when the birthday boy shows up for those cupcakes. Just in case he has an attitude.”
“You’re sweet,” Ahanti said. “But you know I can take care of myself.”
“Of course,” Anders said. “I just want to be here to watch the show.” He stopped in the doorway. “Seriously, you’ll call me if you need me?”
“I did before, didn’t I?”
Anders smiled. “And I’m so glad you did.”
When Sweet Nothings opened its doors in the morning, Ahanti saw her usual morning regulars. There were no motorcycles in the parking lot, just local ranchers and business owners who kept her busy serving up coffee and dishing out pastries.
After that first rush, there was a brief break in the action. That’s when Anders called. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“Stop worrying,” Ahanti said. Through the window she could see Ella and Sofita walking toward the shop. The lime tarts had done their trick. Sofita had given up her reclusive ways; staying home meant her best friend was hearing all the juiciest gossip first and she couldn’t have that. “It’s going to be fine.”
“All right,” Anders said. “I’ll see you later.”
Sofita wanted to know everything there was to know about Anders. She was particularly intrigued by the idea he kept bees for a living. “I just don’t understand how this works,” she said. “You can’t tame bees. You can’t talk to them. They’re bugs.” She snapped her fingers. “That means no brains. And how do you get a thing with no brains to listen to you?”
“I don’t know, Sofie,” Ella said, teasing her friend. “Maybe he uses the same tricks you use to keep Freddie in line.” Freddie was Sofita’s very patient husband, a man renowned in the community for his good nature.
“I’ll have you know Freddie is very smart,” Sofita said. “He’s practically a genius. After all, he married me.”
“And we’re to take this as proof of genius?” Ella said, laughing.
“Am I going to have to separate you two?” Ahanti asked. “This is a nice place. I don’ t need any trouble.”
As if on cue, a motorcycle rumbled to a stop in the parking lot outside. Sofita and Ella looked at each other. “I don’t think we’re the trouble you have to worry about.”
Lav was moving slowly. His right arm was in a splint, and the side of his face was all bruised up. He looked around the shop carefully to see who was there before approaching the counter where Ahanti stood.
“Good morning, Lav,” she said.
“Well, it’s morning,” he said. He looked at Sofita and Ella. “Oh, my. Look at the time. I really must be going.”
The older ladies stared back at him, confused.
He waved his left hand impatiently. “That’s what the two of you are supposed to be saying right now. “Oh, my. Look at the time. I really must be going.”
Sofita took a long sip of her coffee. “I’m not going anywhere. I still have over half a cup of coffee, and I’m not getting to Dr. Mitchell’s office any earlier than I have to. He has a fish tank in the waiting room and the noise of that bubbler thing? It drives me crazy.”
Lav moved, and Ahanti thought she spied the grip of a handgun tucked into his waistband. “So, you’re here for your cupcakes,” she said brightly. “I’ve got them for you right here.” She walked into the kitchen and quickly texted Anders, before returning with a big white box in your hand. “Now, we’ve got two different kinds of birthday picks. And I figured you would want to personally pick which ones went on the cupcakes.” Her eyes went up to meet Lav’s. His gaze was shiny but steady. “Because you are trying to be a good Dad, and that’s what good Dads do.”
The sentence seemed to throw Lav off balance. Ella noticed and gently gripped Sofita by the forearm.
Ahanti put the birthday picks out on the counter. “These ones are blue, and say Happy Birthday in Gold,” she said, “and these ones have just the birthday candle.”
“Which one,” Lav asked, “do kids like best?”
“How old is your kid?” Sofita asked.
Lav’s eyes went wide. “I am not having that conversation again.” He looked angry.
“I mean, can he read or not?” Sofita said, blithely ignoring the discomfort of everyone else in the room. “If your baby is little, the candles are better. But if they’re in school, they like the words that say Happy Birthday.”
Lav visibly relaxed. “All right. We’ll do the Happy Birthday ones.”
Through the window, Ahanti could see Anders pulling into a parking spot. Lav followed her gaze. “Bee boy’s here again?”
“I’ve got to tell you, Lav. I’ve got to tell you the truth,” Ahanti said. “Everything that happened the other night? It’s got me a little nervous about you.”
Lav nodded. “I’m not feeling so great about it either.” He raised his arm as much as the sling would allow. “Especially this.”
“But I want to help you make sure your kid has a good birthday.” She opened the box so Lav could see the beautiful cupcakes. “You’ve got 18 vanilla and 18 chocolate. Let me put these picks on, and you’re going to be good to go.”
“You remembered no peanuts, right?” Lav said. “I can’t have no peanuts going to the school.”
Ahanti nodded. “I remembered. These are 100% peanut free.”
Lav smiled. “Do you remember when you said you’d talk to me about going out when I was sober?”
“You remember that?” Ahanti said, eyes wide. “I’m impressed.”
“That was the most important thing that either of us said,” Lav said. He glanced toward the window and smiled sadly. “But with Bee Boy around, we’re not going to have that conversation, are we?”
Ahanti shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “We’re not.”
“After he buzzes off?” Lav said, with a little grin.
“I’m hoping that doesn’t happen,” Ahanti said. “And don’t you be trying to chase him off. That’s not going to make me want you.”
Lav sighed. “It’s a shame. You make some amazing food here.” For a split second, his playful leer emerged, and he let his eyes flash over Ahanti’s curvy form. “It would have been a good time.”
Ahanti closed the cupcake box and taped it shut. “I hope the cupcakes are going to be a hit.”
“I’m sure they will be.” Lav threw some money on the counter, and awkwardly picked up the cupcake box with his left arm. “I’ll be back when it’s the next one’s birthday.”
He went to the door. Anders was there, holding it open for him. “Do you need a hand, man?” he asked.
Lav shook his head. “You’re really something, aren’t you?” He grinned. “You can help me strap these to the back of the bike.”
Ahanti watched through the window as her boyfriend helped his rival secure the box of cupcakes to the chrome rack on the back of his motorcycle. It only took a few minutes, and then Lav was zooming away.
“That’s a good man you’ve got there,” Sofita said. “He’s no Freddie in the looks department, don’t get me wrong, but he seems like a really nice guy.”
“He’ll do,” Ahanti said.
“I’ll do what?” Anders said, as he walked into the shop.
“Lav was right about you,” Ahanti said, pulling her cowboy close for a kiss. She tipped her head to avoid bumping her head into his khaki Steson. “You really are something.”
He smiled. “I try, pretty lady. I try.”
THE END
Taken by the MC Biker Teacher
New York City always tells stories. There is something very remarkable about this place that never fails to amaze people.
It was another of those April morning when you didn’t know whether to wear your boots or grab a coat. April has always been a notorious month as it could snow or rain or be a little too hot or get too cold.
Sarah Watkins had a lot of trouble adjusting to the new city. Born and brought up in London, she still preferred tea to coffee and often felt like an outsider in every group. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to settle down, but somehow she had always felt alienated.
The first day at college is often a nightmare and her worst fears came true when a group of girls had picked on her. Sarah had been bullied a lot of times even in London, but somehow she had overlooked the nuisance. However, living in a new city, she just didn’t know how to set things right.
Sarah remembered how her life had changed so drastically in such little time. Her granddad had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and so she decided to spend some time with him in New York City, where he lived.
She had never really been close to her parents and had often sought refuge at her grandparent’s home. Her heart had died a little at the news, but she was happy that both her grandparents had lived a happy life. Seeing the two of them had often made her wish that she too could taste the kind of love that lasted forever. However, God seemed to have other plans.
Sarah Watkins was 5 feet 5 inches tall and seemed to have a thing for freckles. They just never left her alone. She was a redhead and her curls were pretty unmanageable as they seemed to head the way they liked and often got tangled like a bush on fire. She had pale blue eyes, but she liked them because once a guy in high school had called her Blue Beauty and that was the only compliment she had ever received so far.
It wasn’t that Sarah was particularly ugly, but somehow she could never fit in. Her tastes in clothes weren’t really stylish as she often picked up a pair of faded blue jeans and a strapless top. When it was cold, she would add in a coat and she never really cared about shoes. She hardly paid any emphasis on the way she dressed because what would come of it. It wasn’t like she had anyone to impress in her life which is why she cried like a baby when she was picked for her “ugly British style sense” on the very first day of college.
Unlike her nature, she had spent three hours trying to pick the right dress because she had wanted to blend in. She had thought of settling in NYC and making friends and she had decided that NYC would bring in the real change in her life.
However, all her plans had failed to materialize and she realized that absolutely nothing would improve her life. The only good thing about her life was her grandparents. She came home to see her little grandmother taking care of granddad and the sight warmed her heart.
She spent her evenings with them and they often told tales of the times when they were young. They wished that Sarah too would find the right guy and her heart cried a little at the lack of a special someone.
She never told them about her college because she didn’t want them to feel that she didn’t fit in the American crowd. It wasn’t like London was great either. Her life kind of sucked, no matter where she lived.
***
A month had passed since Sarah Watkins joined college and things were pretty much the same for her. She was still picked by girls for her “weird taste” in clothes. The guys never gave her a second look and there were rumors that the British babe dated girls. She tried to ignore all these rumors and decided she would focus on her career.
She had chosen Arts and had picked up poetry because she was really passionate about poems. She always believed that a poem had the power to narrate what the heart often hid. If you read between the lines of a poem, you can see into the heart of the poet. No one ever writes things they do not feel. Sarah had written a lot of dark poems and even macabre. However, the genre that appealed the most to her was a eulogy. There was something so romantic about reading a eulogy as it told the tale of someone who left.
The college had appointed a new professor and Sarah wondered what he would be like. There were rumors that the professor had once been a bad boy, but Sarah knew she should not judge. The rumors often painted the wrong picture and she didn’t want to judge someone on the basis of what others had to say.
She, however, wished that the professor would be better than the lady who had been teaching so far. You truly needed the right professor to bring the spark in poetry alive. As Sarah was wondering about these thoughts and was walking the corridor, she bumped into someone.
At nearly 6 feet 2 inches, the guy looked like a fitness model. He had turquoise eyes and his blonde hair was impeccably styled. He walked so effortlessly, but there was an élan in his stance. He wore tattered jeans and his tee read, “I own myself”. Sarah Watkins found herself unable to breath as merely looking at the man made her think of a lot of dirty things. She wasn’t the one to fantasize about random men, but there was something in the way he held her gaze that made her wish she could say something smart.
She had not seen the guy before and quickly assumed that he must be a newcomer.
“I am Sarah Watkins. You seem to be the new guy here. I know it is difficult to adjust in college and I am telling it from my experience. I had a disastrous first day and I don’t know why but I want to make it good for you. I would like to help you. I am Sarah Watkins by the way.” She stopped when she realized she was blabbering. She had said her name twice and had just made a fool of herself.
When the guy didn’t mock her, she was delighted even more. He held out his hands and said, “I am Ryan. Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
“Ryan Gosling?” she said before she could stop herself.
He laughed and she wanted to kiss him right there. She couldn’t understand what it was about the guy that made her so desperate, but she smiled too.
“I am Ryan O’Shea. Definitely not the charming Ryan Gosling you have been thinking of, but I guess I am not bad either.” He winked at her and she almost swooned. “Thanks for the help Sarah, but I think I will be just fine. I hope to bump into you again.” With these words, he passed her a smile and walked away.
Sarah wanted him to stay and she wondered if she would ever see him again. Suddenly, she wished she was one of those pretty girls who could charm guys just by the way they blinked their eyes. She looked down at her clothes and wondered if she had dressed pretty; would things be different.
As she realized that some things never change like her miserable state in the field of romance, she thought to forget the whole incident. When she looked at her watch, she realized that she was late for the class. She rushed as it was her poetry class and she didn’t want to make a bad impression on the new teacher.
When she entered the class, the teacher had his back turned and she quickly slipped in her seat which was (un)luckily the very first row. The teacher wore a black leather jacket and was looking for something in the cabinet. He was probably keeping his stuff and was still to formally introduce himself. Sarah quickly took out her notebook and wrote down a few random lines which she always did. Suddenly, her head jerked at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Hello, class. I am Ryan O’Shea, your new professor for poetry.”
“Holy Shit!” Sarah exclaimed; a bit too loudly, for the class to hear. Ryan gave her a smile and winked again, in front of the whole class.
“Nice to meet you again, Sarah Watkins. Figured, we would bump again soon, but hadn’t known you were in my class.”
Sarah stood there with her mouth shaped into the perfect ‘O’ because not only was Ryan her professor, but he had also acknowledged her in front of the whole class. In one month of her college life, Sarah wasn’t sure whether any of her colleagues really knew what her surname was.
“Any problem, Sarah? Are you alright?”
Sarah was definitely alright, more than alright. She was basking in the new glory. She knew that this would be a really good ride. She smiled, nodded in approval and then allowed her the pure pleasure of once again checking out Ryan who looked hotter than Gosling and given the way she used to crush on Ryan Gosling, it meant, he was really HOLY SMOKING HOT.
The class was terrific and Ryan really had a way with poetry. He knew how to hold the attention of the class and took no shit, unlike the last professor who never really cared what others had to say. When Sarah had met Ryan in the corridor, he was without his jacket and he looked every bit like a badass college student. She had no clue that she had bumped into a professor.
With the leather jacket and the hair now combed back rather than styled in the messy way it was back in the corridor, she knew Ryan could role play very well. As the bell rang signaling that the class was over, Sarah stayed back.
Ryan smiled at her and gestured her to come to the desk.
“I am sorry Ryan. I mean Sir. I didn’t know you were the new professor.”
“Call me Ryan. I appreciate that you tried reaching out to me. I didn’t mind the bumping either.” He looked her in the eye and she smiled nervously. Clearly, he enjoyed the conversation and he knew the kind of effect he had on Sarah.
She stayed there hoping to come up with something to keep the conversation going.
Ryan chipped in, saving her the trouble. “So, Sarah, you’re into poetry? What makes you take up poems?”
She felt comfortable discussing things she was good at. She took up a chair and they both spoke for a really long time. She didn’t have classes for the next two slots and she figured Ryan had time to spare as well.
She discussed her love for sonnets, haiku and how she struggled a bit with rhyming couplets. When Ryan asked her about eulogy and ballad, her heart did a somersault because she knew he was the person who could invade her heart.
Ryan finally looked at the watch and said that he had to meet the Dean for some official documents. He thanked Sarah and said that they would talk again.
As Ryan O’Shea left the room, Sarah Watkins knew things in NYC had just gotten interesting. He might be the kind of guy who was out of her league, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the kind of thoughts she perhaps should not think.
As she walked to her next class, all she could really think was how pristine his turquoise eyes looked.
***
