Hedging His Bets

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About Mina Carter

  About Celia Kyle

  Hedging His Bets

  Mina Carter & Celia Kyle

  April 2013

  Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Mina Carter & Celia Kyle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Summerhouse Publishing

  http://summerhousepublishing.com

  Mina Carter

  http://mina-carter.com

  Celia Kyle

  http://celiakyle.com

  Editors

  Chris Stout

  Cover Artist

  Mina Carter

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Honey was surrounded by drunken idiots. A fact that did not amuse bad-boy Blake Carlisle one bit. He leaned in the doorway for a second, and his heavily muscled frame all but filled the opening as he watched the men surrounding her. The bar was bustling, the place filled wall to wall.

  His dark gaze flicked from one face to the next. Later there would be a reckoning.

  Honey was his. She had been from the moment she’d arrived in town six months ago and taken over the bar and grill. The sooner people around these parts worked that out, the fewer heads he’d have to break.

  Blake walked into the room. Encased head to toe in black leathers, he was the stereotypical biker, right down to the long hair that curled into his neck and the tattoos on his biceps.

  As he passed, conversation fell silent. A sense of wariness filled the room, the sweaty tang teasing his nose as they watched him. Watched and waited to see what he’d do next. A bad boy from the wrong side of town, it was no secret Blake had seen the inside of the sheriff’s holding cell more times than most people had hot dinners. He’d lost count of the number of fights he’d started and then finished.

  He reached the bar and leaned against it to watch the fracas surrounding his Honey. Amazonian tall with a fall of honey-blonde hair, she was well named. But it wasn’t the hair that held Blake’s attention. Nor was it the stacked rack or the luscious curve of her ass, all attributes he appreciated. Hell, just thinking about those curves kept him hot and hard at nights. But they weren’t what drew him to her.

  She had the most beautiful turquoise eyes. Clear and piercing, it was as if she could see through the bad boy mask he presented to the rest of the world and saw him for what he truly was. Saw the man behind the secrets. Which scared the shit out of him and drew him in all at the same time.

  “Hey, what’s a guy gotta do around here to get a drink…” One of the louts around Honey pushed his way to the bar, knocking one of his companions out of the way to get in front of her. Blake’s hand curled into a fist as the guy leered at her cleavage. He was going to break bones later. Lots of them. “…or perhaps a little something ‘extra’?”

  Red mist descended over Blake’s eyes. Without thinking about the consequences, he surged to his feet. The locals, well used to his behavior by now, cleared the tables nearest to the bar. He ignored their movements. They thought they knew him, but they didn’t. If they knew the truth, they’d be running for the hills. That, or die laughing.

  Blake was a shifter. A were if someone wanted to get technical, which meant he was stronger, faster, and meaner than any human alive. He could bench press cars without breaking a sweat or run a marathon before breakfast. If his sexual aura could be bottled and sold, it would make someone a fortune. Men wanted to be him, women wanted to be with him. All in all, he was living the dream. Apart from one little detail. Blake was a shape shifter, yes, but he preferred to remain in his human form because the fates were bitches with a twisted sense of humor.

  There were werewolves and werecats, even bad-ass werebears. Blake was none of those. No, he’d lucked out in the small, spiny, and cute arena. Blake was a werehedgehog.

  “Gentlemen, I think you’ve had enough,” His voice was low and held more than a hint of threat. The kind of warning that said he didn’t expect any argument, but if one came his way he’d happily take up the challenge. With his fists.

  Unfortunately for him, the blond harassing Honey wasn’t so good at picking up on subtle hints. Probably wasn’t so good at picking up anything less than a piece of two by four against the back of his head. He had that sort of hard-bitten, bar fighter look about him.

  “I can handle this, Blake.” Honey gave him a glare for his troubles. The sort of glare with its own subtle innuendo. Blake abruptly lost the ability to read her and just stared at the guy in front of the bar.

  The stranger turned around and rested on his elbows against the solid surface. “Yeah Blake, let the little lady handle this. And I’ll handle her…” Catcalls went up from the group around the man as high fives were exchanged.

  Blake shrugged and hooked a chair from the nearest table with his foot. He picked it up, looked it over, and pretended to admire the workmanship. “Well, you know women… Sometimes they don’t know what they want. And they never realize when they’re in over their heads. They need a strong man to look out for them.”

  Honey squeaked in outrage, her face turning a bright shade of red that he knew meant she was angry with him. Blake ignored her. His hands smoothed over the back of the simple chair as he turned it over. Blondie’s eyes flicked to it and back to him.

  “Really? Personally man, I think you and your chair there should get a room and some quality time together before me and the boys here get bored and decide you need to be taught a lesson.”

  Blake looked up through the hair that had fallen over his face and smiled. Not a nice, “how ya doing?” smile, but one that said bad things were about to happen.

  “Blake… Blake you put that chair down now,” Honey warned, her sweet voice rolling through him, but not doing a damn bit of good at soothing the beast inside.

  “Is that so? Well then…” He ripped the thing apart in one quick jerk. The wood tore like paper, leaving him with a leg in each hand. It was a little less sophisticated than breaking a pool cue over his knee but sure as hell was more impressive. “… You wanna do this in here or shall we take it out back?”

  The fight was short. And bloody. The goons with Blondie were obviously used to functioning as a pack. They rushed him en-masse, tried to overwhelm him with numbers. But Blake was used to scrapping and fighting on his own against the odds.

  The chair legs flashed out like a drummer’s sticks as he ducked and weaved around the members of the group. The wood smashed into arms and legs, slammed into guts and drove air from lungs. Blood and spit spl
attered onto the floor until Blake stood in the middle of a circle of softly moaning bodies. He held a bloody piece of wood in each hand, and his chest heaved. He looked up slowly, worry over Honey’s reaction filling him, and he caught her gaze.

  Aw, Shit. He was in trouble now.

  *

  “Of all the—” Honey scrubbed the bar top with renewed vigor while Katie, her friend and single employee, cleaned up the mess Blake had made. Thankfully, Blake’s fights had become so regular that her frequent customers simply moved out of the way while he tossed men around.

  “You know he couldn’t resist.” Katie called from the floor, sweeping up the bits of food and dirt left behind by their customers.

  “What she said.” Blake popped another peanut in his mouth, crunching on the outer shell and inner nut all at once.

  Honey threw the rag onto the shining wood counter and glared at Blake. The man just smiled in return, boyish grin in place with one corner of his mouth kicked up as if saying “you can’t stay mad.”

  And he was right, the ass. But she was going to hold onto this snit as long as possible. At least until the bar closed for the night. Maybe even tomorrow night, too.

  “Blake…” Katie had a warning tone in her voice, and Honey couldn’t blame her. The man was cruising for a verbal bruising, and Honey was just the one to lay down the law.

  Honey snatched up the dirty bar rag and threw it at Blake. Of course, the jerk caught it with ease.

  “Aw, come on, Honey. You know I can’t stand those other guys drooling over you.”

  She glared at him.

  “Honey Bear…”

  “Oh!” She threw a peanut and he deftly caught it in his mouth, smiling around the nut before crunching down and swallowing. “A bear. You’re calling me a big fat bear now?”

  “Hey!” One of her bear customers called out. “Nothing wrong with being a bear. It’s extra cushion for the pushin’!”

  Shit, she should have remembered that Bernie was still sipping his beer at the other end of the bar.

  “Sorry, Bernie.” This was just another reason to be angry with Blake. He was making her insult customers. She glared at him. Again. This time adding extra squinting and a growl.

  “Sexy. Rawr. Growl at me, baby.”

  “Blake, quit antagonizing Honey.” Katie whacked him in the back with the broom handle and Honey could only laugh at the oomph he muttered.

  “Can’t help it,” he glanced over his shoulder at Katie. “She’s just too cute when she’s pissed at me. And I like ’em feisty.”

  “Okay, enough is enough.” Honey pointed a finger. “Blake, quit your poor excuse for flirting while I’ll still consider talking to you tomorrow.” She turned her attention to Katie. “Katie, let’s lock up. The fight a certain someone engaged in has gotten my nerves frazzled, and I’m ready to call it a night.”

  “Last call, everyone!” Katie yelled out, and some of the regulars grumbled but ambled up to the bar to settle their tabs for the evening.

  Sure, they were closing a little early, but that was the benefit of being the boss. Honey got to make all the decisions.

  Soon the patrons were trickling out, leaving in ones and twos while Honey swept. Katie rang them out and straightened things behind the bar. Yet Blake remained.

  Blake with his tight leathers that outlined everything he had to offer, from a large package to lots of long, lean muscle. He even had the cliché bad boy tattoos on his biceps. Tattoos she’d like to lick all over… When she wasn’t pissed at him about starting fights, that is.

  Finally, the bar was empty except for Katie and Blake, and Honey didn’t have the energy to argue with him anymore. She escorted them outside, locking the front door as she left, and then stopped to look at her two friends. Okay, one friend and one frienemy. All right, truth be told, she wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay if she could be sure it was no-strings-attached. Except she had a feeling Blake wanted a little more than a straightforward friendly fuck. He was one of those, she internally shuddered, long term kind of guys despite his outward short-term attitude.

  With a quick goodbye, Honey hugged Katie and walked toward her car, Blake hot on her heels. Same shit, different day. Any time Blake came to the bar, he stayed till closing and walked her to her car. Except this time was a little different…

  “Still mad?”

  She sighed, unlocking her car door. “Yes, you’re an idiot and you ruined another piece of my furniture.”

  “Hey, the table last week wasn’t my fault. Bernie just weighs a lot.”

  She snorted. “No, it’s more cushion for the pushin’, remember?”

  His smile was visible in the dim lighting of the parking lot. “Yeah,” he whispered, eyes zeroing in on her lips.

  Oh.

  Oh. No.

  Just…no.

  Quick as a jack rabbit she opened the car door and put the metal between them. “Well, have a good night, Blake. See you when I see you.” She hopped into her beat up old clunker and drove off, watching Blake in her rear view mirror until she was out of sight of the bar.

  Whew.

  Close one.

  Within moments she was home. Living around the corner from the bar made it an easy commute. Honestly, she probably didn’t need to drive, but she had visions of being kidnapped in a white panel van by psychopaths who wanted to have her over for dinner. As dinner.

  Plus, driving meant she could always pop home during the day and check on her babies.

  Once inside, the yipping started immediately, her little ones happy that their faux momma had come home for the night. She only worked the closing shift a few nights a week, and the little ones hated it when she stayed out super late.

  She had three of them, three little hedgehogs that she’d rescued from the local animal shelter. They’d been abused, and now she made sure they lived in the lap of luxury.

  Plopping down on the floor, she opened the cage and lifted each of them out. She rolled around on the ground making yipping noises, mimicking them to the best of her ability, and just playing with the cute little things.

  Prickly and cuddly and cutely sweet, she loved her hedgehogs. Who needed a man when she had hedges?

  Okay, maybe a man would be nice… Someone like… An image of Blake popped into her mind and she moaned. The thought of him, naked and in her bed, was too much to take. She wanted him, couldn’t deny it, but she wouldn’t ever entertain the idea of dating him. Honey knew, with her abundant curves, that she couldn’t compete with the skinny blonde bombshells she was sure he dated. A man as muscular, with as much masculine confidence he possessed, couldn’t date anyone but the most beautiful women in the world. Not curvy, fluffy-like-a-cloud Honey.

  She wasn’t down on herself, just realistic where the opposite sex was concerned. Someday she’d find a cute little man to settle down with. Someday…

  In the meantime, she had fantasies of Blake to keep her company.

  Before she realized it, she had three little hedgies all asleep on her chest and stomach, and she felt tired as well. With infinite care, she placed her babies in their cage and padded toward her bedroom. A quick shower later and she was ready for bed, thoughts of Blake still coursing through her mind as she slid between the sheets.

  Unbidden, she slipped her hand beneath her panties, not surprised to find a building dampness between her thighs. The image of Blake always made her wet, left her wanting.

  Honey slid a finger between her lower lips and found her clit. She circled the engorged nubbin, bringing her arousal up from a low hum. She imagined Blake’s hands on her, stroking and petting her breasts, his mouth latching onto her nipple and suckling her, the bud hardening beneath his ministrations.

  Blake would touch her everywhere, leaving no inch of skin unknown to him. Rough calluses would scratch and scrape her as he learned her body.

  A moan sounded from deep in her throat, and Honey kicked off the sheets, body overheating with her rising arousal. Her passion for Blake was a tangible t
hing, a fiery lust (not love, nuh uh) for him that seemed never to turn to embers.

  Honey circled her clit faster, tiny rotations that started sparks of electricity coursing through her body, lighting every nerve on fire and traveling from head to toe, stopping everywhere in between. Her muscles tightened, preparing for the ultimate release.

  Her pussy clenched, milking nothing, aching to be filled by Blake’s cock. She imagined him long and thick, his leather pants leaving little to the imagination. She wanted him in her, fucking and sucking and loving her body like no man before. Without a doubt, he’d be the best, greatest ride she’d ever had. If only…

  Higher and higher she climbed toward the precipice, body strung tight like a bow, legs spread wide and knees bent, giving her full access to her pussy. She snaked her other hand from her breast, over her stomach and between her legs, shoving two fingers into her cunt, filling her heat with something, a poor imitation of Blake’s cock. She fucked herself on her fingers, stroking her inner walls in time with the circling of her clit. Round and round and round she toyed with her bundle of nerves, arousing passion rising higher with each passing moment.

  “Oh, Blake… Fuck me, ride me, suck me… Want you…”

  The bolts of electricity that’d been coursing through her centered on the juncture of her thighs then, the milking action of her cunt speeding up until, until, until… She came, shards of ecstasy pumping through her veins, crashing like waves against her body. Her back bowed. Mouth open, she called out the only name on her mind, the only image that had been able to arouse her in months:

  “Blake!”

  Chapter Two

  See you when I see you.

  Blake watched Honey careen around the corner in the hunk of junk she liked to call a car. She was running away from him again, always running.

  “Not if I see you first,” he muttered into the still night air, unable to help the juvenile reaction. It was just the way Honey affected him. He couldn’t help posturing and showing off to impress her. Not that it made a bit of difference. She still looked at him like he was something nasty she’d scraped off the bottom of her boot.