It's a Sweet Life

Chapter Five

Ben waited until she was out of earshot. He kept his voice low.

“This is perfect.”

“She’s cute.”

Ben glared at Allan and reached for his cheese danish. “Don’t even. We’ve talked about this. It wouldn’t be fair to her. That’s why we’re telling folks we’re gay, remember?”

“Dude, you have to admit she’s a sweetie. She’s tripping all over herself.”

He found his hand fisting the front of Allan’s shirt collar before he realized what he was doing. “No. We will not put someone else at risk. I’ve seen what those fuckers do to people. Especially what they can do to the women of men who cross them.”

Allan stared at him. “Let me go,” he said, his tone strained, but calm.

Ben let out a breath and released him. “Sorry.”

Allan straightened his shirt. “One of the executive assistants in my office has fibromyalgia. Some days, she can barely function. I don’t have a problem helping Libbie out in the bakery if she needs it. And you can’t dictate who I can and can’t be friends with.”

“Friends, fine. No problem. But don’t go dragging an innocent woman into our crap. I won’t put anyone else at risk.” He bit into his danish. As he chewed he struggled not to moan. It was, no lying, the best pastry he’d ever had. And he’d consumed more than his fair share during stakeouts while working his way up to detective.

He glanced at Allan, who bit into his. His eyes widened. “Fuck, this is great!”

48 Tymber

Dalton

Ben nodded as he devoured his. “Yeah.”

Libbie returned a few minutes later with the papers and a pen. “So where are you from?”

“Omaha,” Ben said, sticking to their story. “Born and raised there.”

“Wow. That’s a long way to move, huh?”

“We’re tired of the winters,” Allan said. “Been there all our lives.”

“What made you pick Brooksville?”

Ben started filling out the forms. The PO Box address he listed in Omaha actually was a generic drop-box used by the DEA office out there for undercover operations. “We stopped for the night over at I-75 and decided to explore before we got to Tampa. I can work from anywhere I have Internet.” He looked at Allan. “So can he. We sold everything, cashed out, and said good-bye to cold-ass winters and judgmental family.”

“You’ll like it here,” she said. “Small town, very quiet.”

“And great coffee,” Allan added as he sipped his.

“Everyone loves Many Blessings,” she said. Her expression grew wistful. “We all miss Julie, the former owner. She was such a sweetheart. She was a good friend. We knew each other growing up.”

She let out a sad-sounding sigh. “It was especially hard on Mandaline.

She was even closer to Julie than I was.”

“What happened to her?” Ben asked, his senses on alert at her tone.

“You remember that horror writer, Stephen Corey?”

Allan frowned. “The novelist? Didn’t he die a few months ago?”

She nodded. “He killed Julie before he died. He went crazy.” She shuddered. “Actually, if you’re staying at I-75, you’re not far from where it happened. They lived in the Croom Motorcycle area there at the northeast corner of 75 and 50.”

Ben remembered reading about that case in the news. It had made national headlines due to the brutality of the crime, as well as the It’s a Sweet Life 49

fame of the guy. Corey didn’t just murder the woman. He raped her first, before almost killing his wife and friend in the rampage. The tabloids especially had gone nuts over the story. Autopsy revealed the guy was a severe alcoholic as well.

“That kind of stuff isn’t normal around here,” Libbie said. “It’s usually very quiet.”

Ben finished filling out the lease, signed it, and handed it to Allan to sign. “Here you go, Charles.”

Allan shot him a glare, but signed it correctly.

While he did that, Ben said, “We’ll run over to the hotel and get checked out. Then we’ll come back and help you all finish up with the moving, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, sure. I appreciate that. I’m sorry it’s not ready right now.”

“We don’t mind,” Allan assured her. “We’re just glad to find such a nice place so quickly.”

She took them on a quick tour of the rest of the building before handing them a set of keys. “Those are for your apartment and the back door over there.” She pointed down the hallway to the door to the stairs where they’d come in from the outside. “You can park in back behind the building. There’s only room for one more car in the carport. I usually park in front of the door.”

“We only have one truck,” Ben said.

“Oh, okay. There’s a washer and dryer downstairs, in the utility room. The key is the same for the back door.” She led them outside and introduced them to everyone.

Ben was glad to see his instincts were still sharp. Grover turned out to be the father, or father-in-law, of most of the others.

Grover smiled as he shook hands with them. “Welcome to the family, guys. We have plenty of food left, if you’d like some.”

Allan reached for a plate before Ben could stop him.

What the hell, why not? Can’t hurt to be friendly. “Thanks, Grover,” Ben said. “We appreciate it.”

By nine o’clock that night, the moving had been completed, the 50 Tymber Dalton

men had taken a quick trip to the store for sheets, pillows, towels, and groceries, and they were settled in for the night. Before Grover had left for the day, he’d slipped Ben a piece of paper with his name and several phone numbers written on it.

“You call me if she has trouble,” he told Ben. “Girl’s too damn stubborn to ask for help when she needs it the most. I’m counting on you two to help me keep an eye on her when I can’t be here.”

Libbie had gone to bed nearly two hours earlier, her face pinched with pain as she bid the men good-night.

I wish I could make her feel better. Ben shoved the wistful thought back into its cage again and slammed the door shut. He really liked Libbie and could tell Allan did, too. That was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

It wouldn’t do to fall for her. From the way she’d acted that afternoon, Ben could tell she’d quickly grown comfortable around them.

It would be too damn easy for him to fall for her.

You’re just lonely. Don’t be a dick and hurt her. Keep your distance.

Later, as he collapsed into bed, alone, after taking a shower, he couldn’t help but think about her sweet green eyes.

Libbie slowly sank into the deep tub of hot water with a relieved groan. Galileo, still disgruntled by the upheaval, strolled into the bathroom and put his front feet up on the tub’s edge.

“Mwrao.”

She closed her eyes and put her head back against the tub pillow.

“Stuff it, buddy. This is Mommy’s time.”

Everything hurt. Hurt worse than it had in a long time.

At least something makes my hands seem to feel better. She smiled at the irony. Tonight, her total pain level was through the roof, It’s a Sweet Life 51

meaning her hands were the least of her problems.

And now she had some nice man-candy to think about while waiting for sleep to kick in later. Ken and Charles were sweethearts.

Just my luck they’re gay.

Didn’t it figure? The first two decent guys, not to mention hunktacular guys, to cross her path in years, and neither was available.

Too bad. At least I have Bob. He never let her down as long as she kept fresh batteries in him. And he could stay in her bedside drawer, so she knew he couldn’t sleep around on her or lie to her about who he’d been with.

Bonus.

She’d learned the hard way it wasn’t worth having a relationship with someone who couldn’t give as much as she did. She’d divorced her first mistake, fortunately before her parents had died, eight years ago. They’d been totally supportive when she’d found out he was a cheating, lying bastard.

Especially when she admitted he gave her a hard time about her fibro and accused her of faking it.

After she caught herself drifting off, she drained the tub and got out. She rubbed more of both the ointment and oil mix Mandaline gave her into her hands and headed for bed. Tomorrow, with the shop closed, she could sleep late. And she would. As well as spend most of the day curled up on the couch with Galileo, a heating pad, and her Kindle. She had a new Cooper McKenzie ménage waiting for her.

If only those kinds of things happened in real life. Well, they did to lucky people like Mandaline. While initial scuttlebutt about the woman’s triad with Ellis and Bradley had been scandalous, eventually the rumors died down when people realized they didn’t do anything shocking like have sex in public or try to convert everyone to their lifestyle.

Libbie could give a flying rat’s ass what Mandaline did in her bedroom. Truth be told, she was a little envious.

52 Tymber

Dalton

She let out a wistful sigh. Maybe I should ask Mandaline what they’re putting in their drinks over there and order a buttload of it for myself.

It’s a Sweet Life

53