Don’t Go Away Mad by Lacey Black
Chapter Three
Jasper
She gasps. It’s the sweetest sound that goes straight to my groin, much like it did back in school. The reminiscence about my body’s reaction to the noise is short-lived, however, when her dark eyes fill with fire. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Lyn. What are you up to?”
“Up to? What the hell are you talking about? What restaurant?” she asks, seeming a little flustered by my line of questions.
“Burgers and Brew.” I cross my arms over my chest and hold my ground, refusing to give even an inch.
Her eyes—the ones that are still the most beautiful shade of brown—narrow into slits moments before they widen, almost comically. “You own Burgers and Brew?” She inhales sharply.
“Yes,” I reply quizzically. Why would she ask that if she already knew I was the owner?
She turns to look toward the front, but with that white paper, it prohibits her from seeing out. I just stand in my place—which is entirely too close, considering I can smell the fruitiness of her hair—and watch as she processes something. She glances around from the front to her feet, her eyes searching, her mind wondering.
“Where’s Dustin?” she finally asks, knocking the wind out of my sails.
Dustin? Who the hell is Dustin?
Something blooms in my chest, hot and uncomfortable as hell. Is that…jealousy? I’ve never felt anything of this sort before, not even in high school when my girlfriend would flirt with other guys to make me envious. Suddenly, the thought of someone serious in Lyndee’s life doesn’t sit well at all. In fact, I fucking hate it, which is stupid.
I don’t know this woman, not the one she became. I knew her ten years ago when we were both young and dumb kids, anxious to graduate school and embark on the world before us. We were fueled by competition and a hint of sexual tension, though we never acted on the latter. There was that one time, the night I almost kissed her, but the moment was interrupted, never to nearly happen again.
Yet, the thought of this Dustin makes my blood run cold and an ache form in my chest. Of course, she’d have someone. Lyndee is a gorgeous, feisty sprite of a woman, and any man would be lucky to have her.
Wait, what?
No, she’s not. She’s a pain in the ass, or at the very least, a big thorn in my side. A hot as hell thorn, but a nuisance just the same.
Before I can ask any questions, she moves, pushing slightly against my chest and scurrying past me. “Dustin?” she hollers, heading for the front of the bakery. I’m instantly drawn to how bright and colorful the room is. It’s nothing like our restaurant, but it seems fitting for the type of business she’s opening.
“Who are you looking for?” I ask, coming up behind her and looking around.
Suddenly, we hear the back door slam. Lyndee brushes past me a second time, her body pressing against me as she rushes by. “There you are,” she sighs, stopping as she reenters the kitchen area. “Where did you go?” she asks the man who is using a walker to get around the space.
“I took the trash out and then needed a little air. The temperature is really dropping,” he replies, breathing labored just a bit.
“Why don’t you sit down? I don’t want you to overdo it,” Lyndee advises, moving across the room toward the motorized wheelchair I missed earlier.
“I’m okay,” he insists, yet moves toward the chair. She hovers nearby as he shifts the walker to the side and carefully sits down, taking a deep breath and relaxing once he’s settled.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, already heading for the massive refrigerator along the wall.
“Just a little water, I guess,” he says, finally turning his attention to me. His light brown eyes observe me with open curiosity, his cheeks pink from the cooler outdoor temperature, and his dark hair is in disarray. “Who’s this?” he asks, taking in my appearance in the doorway.
Lyndee hands him a bottle of water before glancing my way. “This is Jasper. I went to college with him.”
The eyes of the man I assume is Dustin light up. “Really? You knew Lyn back when she was all awkward and ugly?”
The comment surprises me greatly, as does the laughter spilling from his lips immediately after he says it. “Who are you calling ugly?” she gapes, hands on hips and staring at the man in the wheelchair.
He turns to me and says, “Notice how she didn’t dispute the awkward?” He smiles before taking a drink from the bottle.
“Well, even I will admit, I was a tad awkward when I was younger,” Lyndee grumbles, crossing her arms and giving the other man the stink eye.
He chuckles heartily before tucking his water into his side and moving my way. He stops directly in front of me and extends a hand. As I reach down and shake it, he says, “Dustin Gibson, Lyndee’s brother.”
His introduction catches me off guard. Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting the sibling connection, but now that I know, I see the resemblance. The same hair and eye color, the shape of their face, and the slightly upturned nose. They’re definitely related, which seems to ease the discomfort I’ve felt in my chest since the moment I heard Lyndee asking about Dustin.
“Jasper Kohlmann,” I state, returning the hand gesture. “I own the restaurant across the street.”
His eyes light with delight. “Really? Lyn and I were just talking about ordering out later this week.”
I give him a smile. “Tell me when and I’ll prepare everything personally.”
“What kind of burgers do you make?” he asks, leaning forward just the slightest as he eagerly awaits my reply.
“All kinds. We have a wide menu of specialty hamburger options, and our fries are hand cut and seasoned.”
“I can’t wait to try one. Lyn, let’s get burgers tonight,” he tells his sister with a huge, hopeful grin.
“We’ll see, Dustin,” she replies, glancing at me with narrowing eyes. The way she stares, it’s as if I’ve somehow opened my mouth when I shouldn’t have.
Why are women so damn confusing?
She’s the one who started a business directly across from mine, yet she makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong here. Crossing my arms, I pin her with a look of determination. I’m not going to let her swoop in and threaten my livelihood, my business.
“I’m going to head back,” I state.
“Thanks for stopping by,” she quickly replies, clearly a little eager to get me out of here.
“Hey, Jasper?” Dustin asks, stopping me before I can move for the exit. “Do you know anyone who can help move that counter and display?”
“Dustin,” Lyndee chastises, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She pins him with a wide-eyed look. “I’m sure Jasper has more important things to do, like run a business.”
“Yeah, but you said you were going to ask the guys across the street for help,” he says, confusion written all over his face.
“Or the ones at the bank next door,” she argues, her fight losing steam rapidly.
“But Jasper is here now. I bet he has a few friends who can help,” her brother suggests, unable to understand why Lyndee is so against asking for my help.
Deciding to cut her out of the conversation, I turn to Dustin. “I can help. I have three friends who co-own the restaurant with me. I can ask a few to help. When do you need it moved?”
“Tomorrow morning would be best,” Dustin replies. “We’re going to finish setting up the front tomorrow but need those big pieces in place to complete the job.”
“What time?” I ask, completely ignoring Lyndee as she stammers and tries to interject herself into the conversation.
“Eight or nine? We’re at your mercy,” he says, “so you pick.”
“Isaac and I are both there by eight. I can get Jameson or Walker there too if I give a little notice.”
“Lyndee was going to make treats.”
“Hello,” she finally says, catching our attention. “Do I have any say here?”
“Of course,” her brother assures. “But you said we needed help for that part, and Jasper is willing to help.”
She eyes me skeptically. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts, Lyn. My friends and I would be happy to help a neighbor in need,” I inform her, crossing my arms over my chest and leaving no room for argument. “Plus, I’m anxious to taste your…sweets.” My voice drops low and borders on dirty, and I can’t help feel a touch of satisfaction when she blushes.
“Well, I’ll be sure to bake a few things for your friends,” she replies, intentionally leaving me out of her statement.
A wolfish grin spreads wide across my face. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it as much as I will,” I add, sliding a pair of sunglasses on. “Dustin, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning.”
He offers me a wave. “Nice to meet you, Jasper. See you.”
I turn my attention back to Lyndee. “And I’ll see you tomorrow too,” I proclaim, heading for the back door. As I move past her, I add in a whisper, “Don’t forget my…payment.”
She makes a noise, a combination of a gasp and a growl, and I can’t help feeling a slice of excitement sweep through my veins. Lyndee Gibson, right across the street on a daily basis. Lord help me, I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ve never sparred with anyone like her, and the prospect of going toe to toe with Miss Gibson again has me all sorts of enthusiastic. I may not know what brought her here after all these years, but it’ll be fun finding out.
Suddenly, I can’t wait until tomorrow morning.
***
By the time I head home for the night, snow flurries are falling. As the sun dropped, so did the temperatures, just enough for light snow that won’t even stick. We’ve been fortunate to have fairly mild temperatures for mid-December, but it appears winter has finally arrived.
I head out to my warm car, thanks to automatic start, and slide inside. The dinner rush is well past, and the bar side of the business is starting to come to life. Even for a Monday night, we have a steady stream of customers stopping by to unwind after a long day.
I pull out of the back parking lot and turn left on the main roadway through town. I can’t help but take a quick glance as I pass, noting the bakery lights are all out, indicating Lyndee and Dustin have already gone home for the night. Not surprising, since it’s past eight. Lyn was always more of an early bird, like me. I imagine operating a bakery would require more early hours than late ones, though I can predict she’ll have both of those the first few months.
I know we did. When we started Burgers and Brew, the four of us worked our asses off, seven days a week. Often, I opened, cooked lunch and dinner, and then closed down the kitchen too. Partly because I thrived on the thrill of knowing everything was done to my exact specifications and demands, but also to help save money. We put a lot into the start-up, and those first six or eight months were the hardest to get through.
But we did it.
We were able to turn a profit fairly quickly, and as business continued to pick up, we added more employees. Walker hired more help behind the bar, and Isaac and I brought in even more kitchen and serving staff. We had enough to get by, but with a rapidly growing business, we needed more and fast.
Five years later, we’re still evolving.
I pull into my driveway, pressing the button for my garage door opener. Once the door is closed behind me, I slip out of my car and head for the entrance off my kitchen. I purchased this house just a few years ago, an older four-bedroom Tudor home built in the early nineteen-hundreds. It’s undergone a few renovations over the years, but the key elements in a Tudor home are still there. Steep gabled roofs, decorative timbering, and embellished doorways, it’s all part of the charm.
On the inside, the previous owners have kept the elaborate woodwork, fortunately. I removed the nasty floral wallpaper when I purchased it and had to refinish some of the flooring due to slight water damage but tried to keep the house true to design. All except the kitchen. That’s the only room I modernized to my taste. Sure, the cabinets are still classic, the trim original, but the counters and appliances were updated. It’s a combination of old-school and contemporary and perfect for my favorite room in the house.
I remove my shoes in the mudroom off the kitchen and set my bag on the kitchen island. I don’t have any necessary work to complete, but I always bring my laptop and bag home, just in case. Mostly, I like to make notes or examine recipes, especially at night when insomnia gets the better of me.
First up is a shower. After spending all day in front of a grill and near a deep fryer, I always take time to wash the day off my skin. As I strip off my work clothes and toss them in the hamper, a certain little pixie filters through my mind, and I’ll be damned if my cock doesn’t start to harden.
Dammit.
As much as I try, I’m unable to push away thoughts of Lyndee and seeing her in person for the first time in so many years. She’s exactly as I remember her, yet with new, unfamiliar curves to her petite body. I’m rather annoyed I even noted the swells of her breasts and her hourglass hips. Oh, I always notice those attributes on women, but this isn’t just any woman.
This is Lyndee.
My intent was to take a quick shower and head down to make something for dinner, but the moment the jets hit my back and chest, my body starts to relax a little and I feel myself letting go of the day’s stress. Well, all except one particular element, but I refuse to think her name. Or of those luscious tits I’d kill to get my hands on. Or the way her paint-splattered leggings molded to her round ass.
“Fuck,” I groan, leaning my forearms against the cold tile. The shock of cool on my skin does nothing to alleviate the fire suddenly racing through my veins. I try to ignore it, but there’s a familiar throb in my groin that won’t let me forget.
I take my hard cock in my hand and give it a squeeze. My balls draw up, anxious for release. I move swiftly, the water making it easy to slide along the rigid length. I can feel precum beading on the tip as the familiar tingle sweeps up my spine. I try to think about anyone else, but I just can’t do it. Lyndee is front and foremost, the fantasy of her pouty lips wrapping around the head of my cock, her warm tongue dancing down my burning flesh. When I close my eyes, she’s all I see, all I feel, as if she were literally on her knees in front of me.
Unable to hold back any longer, my orgasm barrels through me like a tornado, ravishing and destroying everything in its path. I call out the only name on my lips and mind, both a blessing and a curse. I come harder than I think I ever have, my legs wobbly, my body sags against the wall for support. It’s hard to breathe.
“Shit,” I grumble, reaching for the bar of soap and rewashing my body, as I wait for the guilt to slide in. It doesn’t, however. I’m left feeling sated and rejuvenated, ready to tackle every obstacle before me.
Except Lyndee.
That’s one hurdle I need to avoid like the clap.
Nothing good can come from befriending her once more, not that we were ever really friends. We never got to know each other personally, outside of school, and were more adversaries, both in the kitchen and out of it. We kept our battle friendly, pushing each other’s buttons without letting it turn bitter or nasty, and at the end of those years, walked away without so much as a backward glance. Oh, I’ve thought of her over the years, dreamed of her narrowed brown eyes when she’d dispute something I did and remembered the smile she’d give when she got the highest grade on a lesson. Yet, I’ve always been able to push those remembrances to the back of my mind, locking them up behind a thick wall.
Now, she’s here. In Stewart Grove. Directly across the street. There’s no way to hide from her. Not that I’d want to. I won’t let her wield that kind of control over me.
I’ll do my thing and let her do hers. It’s not like we run in the same circles or anything. I’ll go on with my life, running and continuing to build my business, without giving the small bakery across the road any thought. That means not letting her gorgeous face infiltrate my private, dirty thoughts in the shower, or out of it.
Except, I know that won’t happen.
What is the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Should be easy, considering I’m helping her set up her front area tomorrow morning. I’ve got this.
Lyndee Gibson, prepare to be brought closer than ever before. If you have something planned, I will figure it out and won’t let you get away with it.
