Little Jack (Hell's Handlers MC 6)

“Oooh, sir, we may have to play with that bit more. Later.” Another wink.

The guys he was with snickered while Holly’s face heated. “Just tell me what you want,” she said with a roll of her eyes, but inside, her core tightened with need. LJ was too damn sexy for his own good. And if he wanted her to call him sir a time or two? She could get down with that. She’d pretty much be on board with anything he wanted to try if he kept doling out the kind of orgasms she’d been experiencing.

“You sure you want me to say it out loud?”

Now her face was practically on fire. She was about to clarify with “Tell me what you want to eat,” but that would only encourage him. Instead, she rolled her eyes and pretended to be more miffed than she was. In truth, seeing LJ playful and lighter made her heart sore. Hopefully, it came from their conversation Saturday night. She imagined carrying around such a heavy secret weighed down his soul.

“All right, give me a large coffee, black,” he said as though she didn’t know exactly how he took his coffee. He also ordered an assortment of muffins and pastries for the guys at the job site. The men with him ordered their own breakfast, and by the time she’d checked them out, three people waited in line behind LJ.

Holly couldn’t hide her giddy smile.

“Kill it today, sugar,” LJ said as he blew her a kiss across the counter.

Holly was riding such a high already, she didn’t care who saw her, she grabbed the open edges of LJ’s cut, yanked him forward, and laid one hell of a kiss on him over the counter. Of course, she ended up leaving herself dazed as well.

“Better not be sending all your fucking customers off that way,” LJ said with a teasing growl. He winked and was gone, leaving her swooning.

The To-Go idea took off like it’d been shot out of a cannon. Not once in the three hours since opening did Holly have an interruption in the flow. Customers raved about her creations and promised to visit frequently, daily for some. She’d never made so much coffee in her life, and by ten-thirty when Jazz came to give her a much needed fifteen-minute break, she was more than ready for a hot minute of rest. Her fingers ached from hours of hitting the register buttons again and again, her feet screamed from the horrible kitten-heel shoe choice she’d gone with, and she’d burned herself no less than three times on the evil coffee machine. But she couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so satisfied with a day’s work and only a few hours had passed.

Just as she prepared to flee the counter, her mother appeared at the front of the line. “Mom!” Holly said on a gasp. “Wow, uh, hi. Can I get you anything?”

They hadn’t spoken since the night of the Hell’s Handlers party debacle. Holly had assumed her father requested her mom keep some distance until Holly either came to her senses or crashed and burned. While she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the absence of her doting mother breathing down her neck, she’d also be lying if she said she didn’t miss her. They’d gone from smothering to nothing in the blink of an eye. Somehow, they needed to learn to co-exist in the center zone.

Her mother perused the display cases and said, “I’d love a cappuccino and a banana crunch muffin, but I was also hoping to talk to you for a moment. Any chance you’ll be taking a break soon?”

Holly shot a quick glance at Jazz who nodded. “Um, yeah, I was just about to take fifteen minutes. Wanna grab a booth, and I’ll be there as soon as I hit the restroom?”

She took her time, giving herself a minute at the sink to gather her thoughts and anticipate what her mom would say. More likely than not, she came to plead a case for Holly’s father. If she bad-mouthed LJ, Holly wasn’t sure how she’d react, but she wouldn’t stand for it. Not here, in her new place of business owned by the ol’ lady of one of the Handlers.

As she left the restroom, she spotted her mother seated in a booth, picking at her muffin. Slender her whole life, Cynthia always seemed to be trying some new diet fad. Recently, low-carb had taken over their household so that poor muffin was liable to be ripped to shreds but never consumed.

“Hey, Mom,” she said as she slid in the seat across the table.

“Holly,” her mother replied with a warm smile. She reached across the table and laid her hand over Holly’s. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Mom. I don’t like it when there is tension between us.”