Hot Honey Kisses: 3:AM Kisses 17 Read online

  I clear a slap over that perfectly sculpted, slightly stubbled cheek and feel the burn over my palm long after I’m through.

  “Geez.” He taps his hand over the same spot I just gifted my affection. “What’d you do that for?” He sheds a quick glance to the door before doing a double take. “Oh no, no. This night is not allowed to get any worse.” He quickly grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around until we’ve switched positions. He ducks down a bit until he’s looking through my wild hair as if it were a hunting blind.

  I turn back and spot a rather clueless peroxide strawberry blonde with big pouty lips and a funky white frilly dress with a wine stain over the left nipple. The night is young. That right nipple just might get lucky, too.

  “Who is she, and why are you cowering? Is that your pimp?” I can’t help but laugh in his face, albeit short-lived. God forbid I attract the attention of the angry giraffe. I swear on all that is holy, I’m going to kill Harley for even mentioning the words digital dating to me. My God, for an hour straight I thought she was talking about a Sims game!

  “I’m not cowering.” Shep straightens, shoulders back, that hardened I’m a wannabe bad boy look suddenly stuck on his face. The muscles in his jaw flinch, and I can’t help but think he looks decidedly handsome. It’s only then I note he’s still neatly tucked in a crisp Italian suit. That silver tie is snug against his neck like a noose. Too bad he’s still Shep. But Lex is totally lucky. Axel and Shep are virtually twins. It’s funny, though. Each time I look at Shep, I never feel like I’m staring at a hijacked version of my brother-in-law. I still see Shep for who he is, an original asshole. I’m sure on a deep, cosmic level he appreciates that.

  “Shit.” He flinches with disappointment as if he just lost money at the track. “She brought the new guy. I pretty much hate the new guy. Look at him. He’s uptight—like he just got caught smuggling gold in his rectum.”

  A laugh gets caught in my throat as I turn to find that the lady in white and wine now has a plus one attached to her arm—a decent looking dude in a rather pedestrian suit.

  “Huh, the dapper dude that lays the golden egg doesn’t look so bad. So she’s an ex, huh? I’m not sure what should have been my first clue. The fact you’re cowering, or her bad sense of style.” I frown as I steal a moment to debate this.

  Baya pops in and waves over at me from behind the blonde bimbo, and along with her is Cassidy, the sweetest country girl you’d ever want to meet who helps out on occasion. They’re both cute perky blondes themselves, and they both have the bubbling personalities to match.

  “I’d better get back to work before I get fired. I’ve got two-dozen brides who are pleasantly blitzed out of their mind, and I’m damn well going to use it to my financial advantage. Hey? Maybe I can convince Bee Boy that his date is currently outfitted with a tattered wedding dress?”

  “If that doesn’t scare him off, you can always do that thing with your eyes.” His lips twitch, but he’s too stubborn to give a smile.

  I know exactly what thing he’s talking about because I used to do that very thing to scare him off. It’s a forced lazy-eye trick I learned in biology as part of an experiment that tested our ocular muscles. One eye stays put while the other eye drifts to the side. It’s not that hard. It certainly does not take a talent as Shep used to enjoy pointing out.

  “I was pretty good at it, wasn’t I?” I can’t help but smirk with pride.

  “Are you kidding?” He inches forward as if he’s about to kiss me, and my stomach free-falls into oblivion. Stupid, stupid stomach. I’m hungry, that’s all. Hangry in fact. “You were gunning for Olympic gold. If this waitressing gig doesn’t work out, you can always go pro.”

  “If it pays any better, I might consider it.” I ditch Shep for the brides gone wild section of the restaurant and am shocked to find half the table missing as a handful of women in white flit about the four corners of the Black Bear.

  “What in the fresh carnation hell is going on?” I bleat to the head bride still staunchly glued to her seat. Her hair looks as if it’s been through the blender, and that tiny veil still sits crooked on her head. Dear Lord, her mascara is halfway down her face, and her lipstick has trekked over to her cheek. There are some nights when you just need to surrender and throw the towel in, hit the sheets, and hope for a better tomorrow, and I’m afraid that’s exactly where she is.

  “Treasure hunt,” she growls the words out. “I found the prize.” She manufactures a hot pink rubber sex toy that has the power to make me scream at just one glance and not in a good way.

  “Oh my goodness!” I hiss as I throw a wad of napkins over the deviant device. “This is a family restaurant. Tuck that pinky winky away in your bouquet or something.” Okay, the Black Bear is far off from a family establishment, but still. Who wants to ogle a dildo while you’re trying to bite into a hot dog?

  “And who in their right mind gave you permission to hide all kinds of kink in the bar?” I’m betting the answer is no one.

  She shakes her head as she guzzles down the rest of her Long Island Iced Tea. “I found it out back.” Her upper lip quivers when she says it. “Along with a human dildo.”

  I bet she did.

  I can’t help but glance to my sunny-side roid rage of a date still scanning the vicinity, hell-bent on making his scrambled dreams come true. There is truly no way I’m letting him take me to a second location. My gaze cuts to Shep, then to the bar where I fully expect to find Dirty Boy but don’t.

  “Yes, well, the bar is full of wankers tonight. I suppose a run-in is inevitable. You girls ready to order?”

  “Nachos,” huffs a boisterous brunette with her lips painted a caustic shade of hot pink. Her bridal gown has a dark brown stain running down the front as if her own Long Island Iced Tea didn’t quite make it to her fuchsia-stained pie hole.

  “You bet.”

  Bride Number One waves her pink little member in the air as if it were a flag. “Need hot honey.” Her eyes invert a moment as she shakes her head belligerently. “I can’t believe it, Belinny,” she bleats to Fuchsia Lips.

  “Belinda!” The brunette next to her looks up at me, laughing so hard it comes out in a hiss. My God, they’re all blitzed out of their minds—which, of course, is fine by me as long as they’re ready to part with all of the green in their wallet. “I’m her sister,” she practically mouths the words before letting out a braying laugh—so loud, so sharp, so very annoying I’m sure I’ll be hearing this in my sleep. Hell, if she goes up another octave, I’ll be hearing it well after I’m dead. Her octave rises, and there goes any hope of a peaceful eternity. Looks as if I’m damned after all.

  Bride Number One lifts a finger, her eyes all but sealed shut. “Get me some hot honey. Hot honey’s gonna make it all better.” She sobs before face-planting onto the table, and the brunette wastes no time in pulling her right back up. Soon, every bride in the establishment is seated back at the table, and they’re singing the battle cry of jilted brides everywhere, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” Sure, it’s heavily out of key—but hell, even I’m tempted to sing along. The band joins in, and it’s one great party.

  I head over to Cole. “A round of hot honey for our friends in white.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t serve it. Never heard of it. Besides, even if we did, I wouldn’t dare give them another drink. They’re about five minutes from getting the boot.”

  “No way. They want nachos—lots and lots of nachos. I’m sure all that artery clogging ooey, gooey goodness will sober them up quick—at least long enough for them to leave a big fat tip.”

  I make another quick loop between my tables and run smack-dab into Big Bird, aka the Incredibly Angry Hulk who looks as if someone just set his hair on fire, and I’m not talking the hair on his head.

  “Hey,” he roars over at me, and I blink back in horror. My body freezes, and I can’t seem to duck and cover to save my life. “Are you Shirley Filer?”

  My mouth opens and clos
es. Yes, it was a brilliant, brilliant move to use a pseudonym when setting up my own homicide. Shirley was a close second to Serena. And Filer—well, I may have been filing my nails at the time I was talked into meeting up with the homicidal maniac before me. The only enclave of hope I have is to propagate the lies I’ve ruthlessly, yet wisely, set in motion.

  “Why no, I’m not.” I offer a pleasant smile along with the truth. “Can I help you get a seat and maybe a burger to start with?” And maybe a Taser and a pickax through the forehead? That gives me plenty of time to call Marlin and the rest of the boys in blue that this great nation of ours has to offer. Marlin technically works in Jepson, not Hollow Brook, but I’m sure he’d break a few rules and kneecaps for his sweet baby sis.

  “The hell you’re not. I got your picture right here.” He flashes his screen my way and, sure enough, there I am smiling like an idiot about to meet her maker by way of a psychotic blind date. I’ve always suspected my life would turn into a cautionary tale. I just never realized that I would so willingly walk into the danger zone. I blame my mother for my lack of dating knowledge and zero fear of strangers. If she would have hung around long enough to teach me a few basic survival skills, I might have actually lived to see the rest of my twenties.

  Shep shows up like a knight in shining Armani armor with his chest expanding like a baboon and, at the moment, I happen to be very damn appreciative of those testosterone-laced mammals.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Ha!” I’m quick to wrap my arms around Shep and plant a big, fat kiss to his cheek. “No problem! It seems my twin sister, Shirley, is at it again—breaking hearts while swiping right. She’s gone to Mexico for the weekend—I mean, year.” I have a feeling the only panacea to keep this beast away from me is a geographical cure. “It’s just Shep and me, my big, bad attorney-at-law boy toy who knows how to whip up a restraining order with the best of them. Maybe try The Sloppy Pelican? I hear they have an abundance of cougars looking for dates with questionable fashion sense. Rumor has it, if you pop your collar, you’re bound to get lucky within the hour.”

  “No kidding? But then, who wouldn’t want to get laid by me?” The Hulk wastes no time in popping said collar while simultaneously displaying his ideological shortcomings.

  “I’m outta here.” He leans in close, his eyes crossing ever so slightly as he narrows in on me. “If I get lucky, I’ll have you to thank for it,” he says it like a threat, and I let out a little yelp.

  “And if you don’t?”

  “And if I don’t, I’m coming back for Shirley,” he openly growls before weaving through the crowd and speeding for the exit.

  My eyes close with relief as I exhale the breath I’ve been holding all night. “I’m going to kill Harley.”

  “Never confess to a homicide before it actually occurs.” Shep is quick to lecture me. “You do realize I’d be obligated to turn you in.”

  “Oh, there will be a murder tonight. Just you wait and see.”

  I’m about to exit stage left when Shep slips his arm around my waist once again, this time drawing me in close, and before I can punish him properly, his own lady in white—the ex with the nipple stain—comes up with a toothy grin. She’s pleasant on the eyes, a little shorter than me, a smile that sparkles as if she’s got a secret.

  “Who is this little ditty?” She winks my way while razzing Shep.

  Ditty? I smacked Dirty Boy for less than that about an hour ago. This chick and her wine-stained boob has severely underestimated what I’m capable of.

  “I’m Serena.” I hold out a hand like a civilized human and she shakes it, cold fish, limp as can be. So very unimpressive. It’s no wonder Shep dumped her. He did do the dumping, right?

  Her fair hair softens her features, cut just below the jawline in a cute summery style I’ve wanted to try out myself, but I’m too afraid.

  “Carmella.” Her eyes flash wide as if her name doubled as a warning. “How long have the two of you been…” She seems uncertain how to frame it. “How long has Shep been making you ditch homeroom?” She offers him a wink at the scholastic dig.

  Shep clears his throat. “It’s new. But Serena and I have known one another all of our lives. This is Lex’s little sister.”

  “Oh!” Gone is the knowing smile, the I gotcha glee percolating in her eyes, replaced with a holy shit, this is real look on her face and, I must admit, it’s rather priceless. “So, that’s it, huh?” There’s a thin veil of hurt hiding beneath her features, and a part of me feels sorry for her.

  “That’s it.” Shep needles her with a look that says we are over and I’ve moved on. The moment feels intimate, intense, and like one that I want no part in.

  “Yes, well, I’ve got an entire gaggle of hangry brides on my hands, so if you’ll excuse me…”

  Shep cinches his grip over my body. “What are you doing here tonight?” he inquires of Carmella as if I had suddenly become invisible.

  “I—” She glances toward the bar. “Rich is meeting up with a friend. I was just tagging along.”

  “Third wheel, huh?” I couldn’t help it. This is getting old, and so are my customers. “Sort of like you are now. If you’ll excuse us, Shep was just about to help me out in the back. It’s where we shared our first kiss, and we like to recreate the memory each time I’m on a shift break.” I haul him with me toward the kitchen, linking my arm through his as if I had my own unwanted groom on my hands as we waltz down the beer-laden aisle.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “It was your get out of carrying on an awkward conversation with your ex free card, buddy, and you’re welcome,” I say, slapping my orders over the kitchen counter. I can’t help but note two huge bags of trash sitting in the hall that leads to the alley. I’m not surprised. We’re so swamped there aren’t enough hands to do what’s needed.

  “Here.” I grab a bag and toss it to Shep. “Make yourself useful,” I say before snapping up the second one and kicking the back door open with my foot. I step out into the humid night and take in a lungful of sour dumpster air as I try to open the wooden gate that leads to the receptacle, but it’s stuck. “Crap. I swear, if another thing goes wrong tonight, I’m blaming the entire fiasco on you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” I say, pulling and tugging at the gate until it gives, and I take a stumbling step back. “You always seem to be around when—” Just as I’m about to pin Shep for the fact the world is burning, the words get lodged in my throat and I gag.

  “Go ahead and say it. I’m great, and you’re obsessed with me.” He pitches his bag over the gate and lands it neatly into the dumpster. “He shoots, he scores!”

  “Shep?” My insides bounce and quiver, my muscles freeze solid as if threatening never to move again. Lying on his side, just shy of my feet, is an all too familiar greasy blond male with his face set in a scowl, his eyes staring up at me blankly, that lip print of mine still firmly planted just below his neck. “It’s him. It’s Dirty Boy.”

  Shep leans in and freezes. “Holy shit. Hey, buddy. You all right?” He reaches down and gives Dirty Boy’s shoulder a quick jostle, rolling him onto his back, and we gasp in unison. The entire front of the poor man’s shirt is drenched in blood. Shep wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back a good foot as if yanking me out of the danger zone. “He’s dead, Serena. He’s dead.”

  Shepherd

  There is a lot going through your mind when you’re staring at a body—a hell of a lot and not one damn thing makes sense. Serena starts in on a hyperventilating scream, and that snaps me out of my daze long enough to call 911. In seconds, sirens blare this way, an entire fleet of squad cars shows up, an ambulance, a fire truck and, yes, finally a large white van marked with the word coroner in small discreet letters across the side.

  Bryson, one of the Black Bear’s owners, pulls Serena and me toward the building while the cops do their thing. I know both Bryson and his twin, Holt, as well as their sister, Annie. The thr
ee of them own the bar together. I’ll be teaching a summer session class at Whitney Briggs, and they’ve been nice enough to let me use the Black Bear as an interning opportunity as a part of the business course I’m instructing.

  “So, you came to take out the trash and you just saw him lying there?” Bryson repeats for the third time. His eyes bulge wide as sweat beads above his lip. He’s a tough dude, muscles for days, but he looks shaken, angry, too, and I can’t say I blame him.

  “That’s it.” Serena shrugs. “Oh my God, I’m not going to get fired, am I?” Her voice pitches in that little girl way it’s prone to.

  I’ve known Serena for years, watched her grow from a cranky little kid to a mouthy young woman. Okay, that might be a little harsh. Serena can be a bit too much to handle, which is usually why I repel from her on a regular basis. I don’t like drama, pure and simple. But on a night like tonight, I feel the need to protect her. Serena is young, beautiful—that wild red mane and glowing green eyes are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to her beauty. She’s smart as a whip as evidenced by her scholarship to WB. And she’s alone on this end of town. I should be here for her.

  “You’re not getting fired,” Bryson is quick to contest. “God no. But take the rest of the week off if you want. Take as much time as you need. No one should ever have to see what you did.”

  “Serena,” one of the cops to our left barks out, and we look over to find Marlin, Serena’s older brother. In a flash, she bolts past me and into his arms. For a brief second I’m a bit forlorn. It felt good to be a shining white knight if only for a moment.

  Bryson and I take a few steps closer to the bright yellow caution tape sectioning off the area. “Tell me again what happened.” He shakes his head at the body as the cops do their thing, swarming around the vicinity like moths to a deadly flame.

  “I followed Serena down the hall. She asked me to help take out the trash, and I watched as she struggled with the gate. Just as I was about to help, it flew open and we both saw him at the same time. He was on his side. I thought it was just some vagrant, some drunk customer who was trying to sleep off a bender so I asked if he was all right and tried to shake him out of it. I rolled him onto his back and the rest is history.”