“I know, I know.” I nodded toward the hives. “Don’t tell the girls.”
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing with playful determination. “That just means you haven’t tried therighthoney. I bet I can change your mind.”
Her words were innocent enough, but that didn’t stop my brain from taking them to the filthiest place possible. I pictured her spread out on my sheets, thighs open, slick and glistening, my mouth lapping at her nectar while she gasped my name. Warm, sweet honey dripping down my chin until I couldn’t get enough.
Jesus.
I shifted my stance to hide the sudden rush of blood south, clearing my throat. “I’m willing to be converted,” I told her.
She didn’t seem to pick up on anything—just gave me that earnest, stubborn look that made my chest tight. “I promise, you’ll taste the difference the second it hits your tongue. All it takes is one good lick.”
Fuck me. She was killing me and didn’t even know it.
I swallowed hard, forcing a casual smile. “Then I can’t wait to try it.”
By the time she peeled off the rest of her bee getup, the sun had started to break through the clouds. I walked her back to her door, the short distance feeling too quick.
At her doorstep, I paused. “Hey, do you want to grab a burger tonight? You know, something to celebrate me finally unpacking that last box.”
She tucked a curl behind her ear. “That sounds nice, but I actually have a date.”
I felt my smile freeze in place while everything inside went hot and cold at once. A wave of jealousy surged up so fast, I had to lock my jaw to keep it from showing. I wanted to ask who, where, how long she’d known him, if he made her feel half as seen as I was trying to.
Instead, I shoved it all down and managed a neutral, “Not the funeral guy, I hope.”
She laughed. “God, no. His name is Ethan. We met on a dating app, and he asked me to go whiskey tasting at the new distillery in the old cannery.”
“Whiskey tasting,” I repeated, slower this time.
“Yeah.”
The second wave hit harder.Whiskey.Bella didn’t even like whiskey. She’d said it tasted like “cedar regrets” after Pink had brought a case of the damn stuff home from a series in Louisville.
And thisEthanasshole—because let’s be honest, every Ethan was an asshole—had planned an entire date around something he either didn’t know or didn’t care that she wouldn’t enjoy. Instead, he was dragging her to some trendy spot to look sophisticated, probably hoping the alcohol would loosen her up for whatever he had planned next.
My stomach twisted again, darker this time.
“Didn’t peg you as awhiskey girl.”
“I’m not really,” she admitted. “Or maybe I am and I just don’t know it yet. He seemed excited about it, and I didn’t want to be difficult.”
There it was. The thing that made my chest ache.
I wanted to tell her she wasn’t difficult. That she deserved dates builtaroundher, not around whatever sounded coolest on paper. I wanted to tell her I’d have taken her somewhere quiet, somewhere warm, somewhere she actually liked.
But wanting something didn’t mean I got to claim it.
“Rain check?” she asked gently, like she could sense the shift even if she didn’t know why.
“Anytime.”
I watched her go inside, waiting until the door clicked shut behind her before dialing my phone.
Diaz answered after the second ring. “Miss me already?”
“You busy tonight?” I asked him, ignoring his question.Smartass.
“Depends,” he said. “What’s up?”
