And Lincoln’s brother was leading the pack.
Atlas stood at the front of the line, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, those massive arms crossed over his chest, and a don’t fuck with me scowl carved onto his face.
He jerked his chin toward the booth. “I’ll take all the jam.”
Lincoln didn’t even blink. “I’m afraid the limit for pain-in-the-ass older brothers is two.”
Atlas’s jaw hardened. “Ten.”
“Three.”
Atlas braced his hands on the table and leaned toward Lincoln, his teeth clenched as he bit out, “Five.”
“Best I can do is four.”
“Are you shitting me? I can’t even get one of each flavor? That’s bullshit, Linc.”
Lincoln just shrugged. “Take it or leave it, bro. You’re holding up the line.”
There was a long, tense pause before Atlas growled, slapped a hundred-dollar bill in Lincoln’s palm, and snatched four jars before stalking off in a cloud of irritation.
I didn’t know what surprised me more—our very first customer asking to buy us out, or Lincolnturning him down.
“Why didn’t you just sell everything to him?” I asked. “You could’ve proven me wrong in the first five minutes.”
He exchanged a jar for cash with another customer and shot me a smile. “I’m building demand. Bet I can get him to pay fifty bucks for the next jars. Hell, I can probably charge him a hundred.”
I snorted and shook my head. “Now you’re just delusional. Maybe I should take over.”
“Not before I can get some honey sticks from my sweet little honey!” Mabel strolled up, her red-sequined jumpsuit sparkling in the sun, along with her matching lipstick, stark against her pale skin. Her short gray bob was curled loosely, and a strawberry hat sat perched on her head. The self-proclaimed Starlight Cove Strawberry Queen.
“There’s my favorite sex toy dealer.” Lincoln winked as he handed her a mini honey stick. “You’re looking good enough to drizzle, Mabel.”
“Don’t you tempt me, sugar. Besides, George gets first taste.”
Lincoln grinned, his dimples flashing. “Well, second in line ain’t so bad.”
Mabel eyed my husband head to toe, her lips pursed to the side. “Boy, I’d break you in half.”
I sputtered out a shocked laugh as Lincoln’s smile only grew.
With a shrug, he said, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Quit flirting with me, and give me a dozen of those little honey sticks. Gonna conduct some…research tonight.”
“Research?” I asked, brows raised as I grabbed a few of each flavor.
“Of course. Meltability, stickiness, which flavor pairs best with skin… The usual,” Mabel said, her tone deadly serious. “Any interest in exploring a wholesale partnership? These would fly off the shelves at Wicked Little Things.”
I blinked at her, then at Lincoln, then at the long line forming behind her. We’d been open fifteen minutes.Fifteen. And somehow, with Lincoln by my side, we’d been offered a booth buyoutanda wholesale deal. Him standing here with that apron wrapped around his waist, luring customers in, was obviously witchcraft. Either that or my husband was some kind of farm-stand Casanova.
“You know what, Mabel?” Lincoln said, handing over her purchase. “We just might be. Let me talk to the missus, and we’ll be in touch next week.”
“Sure, sure. Oh! Speaking of the missus…” She winked at me, reached into one of her bags, and pulled out a handful of small square packets. “For the newlyweds. George’s personal favorite is the chocolate strawberry, but I prefer the strawberry vanilla. You two try them out during your abundant evening—or daytime—activities, and let me know what you think!”
With that, she strolled away, passing out strawberry lube samples to every adult she came across like she was the fairy lube mother of Mardi Gras. And I tried not to remember, in great detail, how it’d felt to come apart in Lincoln’s lap. I also diligently ignored the look he sent my way as he pocketed all those samples, clearly recalling the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
