It's A Sweet Life Part 3

Ben didn't respond. Instead, he forced himself to finish his omelet and not listen to the happy chirruping from the booth across the restaurant.

Neither brother had ever been to Brooksville before. Allan had wanted to stop in Tampa, but Ben overruled him. Allan had learned early in life not to push Ben when his mind was made up. All it would lead to was a fight. As they drove from the hotel into town, Allan admitted Ben made a good choice. The quiet town had the basic amenities such as a couple of large discount stores, but still maintained its rural, Old South charm.

As they followed up on a couple of rental leads from the paper, Allan let Ben take charge. Ben had always taken charge, something else Allan felt a little guilty about. He envied his brother the ability to wade into a situation and settle it. It was what made Ben a good cop, and an even better detective. People listened to Ben. He had a way about him that commanded respect and attention without being douchey.

Allan never had that. It was why he decided on law instead of becoming a cop. He knew he didn't have the stomach for the on-the-edge work like Ben did.

Allan thrived on the details, the fine print, delving into the law and careful researching and pulling together cases to sway a judge and jury his way. He didn't mind standing up in court and giving opening or closing statements, or questioning witnesses. There were rules and procedures and...safety. In a courtroom, he took charge and kicked b.u.t.t.

Kicking in a door, however, would probably get him killed.

Allan studied Ben as he drove. With Ben's deep undercover work, they hadn't spent a lot of time together for the past three years, although they had talked on the phone at least once a week. As far as Allan knew, Ben hadn't even taken a full vacation in the past several years. He'd been known to the mobsters as Frankie Ruggiero and played the part well.

Sometimes, Allan barely recognized his brother's voice over the phone. Ben had a habit of replicating the New Jersey accent of the criminals he "worked" for. Two different times, Ben had been ordered to "whack" guys suspected of infidelity to the mob family. Ben had successfully flipped them, funneling them into the witness protection program after faking their deaths.

Working on the other end of the process, Allan knew he was insulated from the dirty, day-to-day struggle the police went through to bring the criminals to his door.

More guilt.

They spent the morning looking at apartments and houses for rent until they ended up in downtown Brooksville, near the town square.

"Where to now?" Allan asked.

"You hungry?"

Allan tried to ignore the gooseflesh that rippled up his back at the way his brother had said it. As if he'd grown up in New Jersey instead of Miami. "I could eat, yeah."

"I saw a little coffeeshop over there, on the other side of the courthouse." They found a parking s.p.a.ce and walked up to the shop. The sign read Many Blessings in curly, bright pink letters. From the number of patrons inside, it looked like a popular place.

Ben walked in first. Allan didn't miss the way his brother quickly scanned the area with a hard, narrowed gaze that swept over the patrons before he stepped forward and let Allan enter behind him. Allan deeply inhaled the delicious aromas of coffee and tea, along with various scents that reminded him of incense.

Behind the counter, a short, slim woman with brown eyes and long, dark brown hair greeted them with a cheerful smile. "Welcome. What can I get for you gentlemen today?"

As Allan looked around, he realized the store was more than a coffeeshop. Shelves of books, Tarot card decks, crystals, candles, statues, and other New Age items lined the walls. Several patrons at various tables sat hunched over layouts of Tarot cards while others were immersed in books or on their laptops.

Ben stepped up to the counter. "Large coffee. Black. Whatever the daily special is. And a cheese danish." He looked at Allan. "You?"

Allan had to focus on Ben's words. In the background, soft guitar music played through speakers. He'd felt his stress of the past couple of days melt from his shoulders. I could spend hours in here. "Same, please." He finally looked at the woman helping them and noticed her studying them.

"You guys are new in town, aren't you?"

Allan sensed Ben tense next to him, so he took over. "Yeah. Looking to move here. Just got into town and trying to find an apartment."

The woman's face brightened even more as she laughed. "G.o.ddess bless me, that spell worked even faster than I thought it would." She darted from behind the counter over to a bulletin board, where she unpinned a pink index card from it and brought it back to them. Handing it to Allan, she said, "Go see Libbie Addams. She owns the bakery. I think she closed early today, but if you go around back, I know she's there. Just knock on the door." She pointed out the window and across the square to a bakery where It's a Sweet Life was painted on one window in bright pink and turquoise letters. "I'll get your orders."

Allan knew from the look on Ben's face that he was forcing back a dubious frown. He pulled the card from Allan's hand and studied it.

"Hmph."

"Is that a good hmph?" Allan quietly asked.

Ben glared at him. "We'll check it out." When the clerk brought them their order and rang them up, Ben held up the card. "What do you know about this woman?"

Allan tried to step on Ben's foot to warn him to knock it off, but Ben shifted to the right, away from him.

"Oh, Libbie's a real sweetheart. In fact, we buy all our pastries and stuff fresh from her every day." The woman's playful smile turned into a sunburst of a grin. "And I know for a fact that she's single."

Allan felt his face heat for a reason he couldn't fathom. Before he could respond, Ben took their change and grumbled, "Thanks, but we're gay."

The clerk slowly nodded, but the sly smile never left her face. She winked at Allan. "Uh-huh. If you say so, guys. I don't question people, but I have a feeling you'll be a good fit for Libbie."

Allan wanted to say something else, but Ben grabbed one of the coffees and danishes, put them in Allan's hand, and spun him around toward the door before grabbing his own stuff. "Thanks. We appreciate the lead."

Outside, Allan quickened his pace to match Ben's. "We appreciate the lead?' Nice work, Columbo. Like that didn't make you sound like a cop."

Chapter Four.

By noon, the apartment swap had begun. The excess furniture and boxes had been removed from upstairs and hauled over to Grover's. As the delicious smell of Grover's portable barbecue outside the back door mixed with the aromas from the bakery, everyone's stomachs started growling. Libbie went ahead and shut the bakery down two hours earlier than her normal Sat.u.r.day closing time and posted a note on the door apologizing for the early closure. They all sat in the shade of the two-car carport behind the building, where the outside stairs ended and keeping the lower back door sheltered from weather. Normally she parked her car there, but for today it was out of the way at the far edge of the asphalt behind the building.

As she ripped into the brisket Grover had cooked to perfection, she forgot her momentary guilt over closing early. "This is delicious," she said. "I'm telling you, you should sell this."

He laughed. "Naw, that'd be too much like work. I have fun in the bakery with you. I've learned a lot about baking. This is going to stay for fun, too."

When two men walked around the corner and headed their way, Libbie felt her heart race. The same height, a little over six feet tall, even from a distance she could see they both had gorgeous blue eyes. One was blond under his baseball cap, the other had dark brown hair, neatly trimmed.

Down, girl, she told her libido.

When Grover stood to intercept the men, she sensed his sons tensing, waiting. In school, she'd never been overtly picked on, because the Johnson boys and girls treated her like a sister.

And no one messed with one of their own.

But when the two strangers showed Grover the pink index card they'd apparently gotten from Mandaline, Grover relaxed. Everyone else took that as a cue they could stand down as well.

Except Libbie.

And as she shoveled a forkful of brisket into her mouth, Grover turned and pointed her out to the men.

Ben wasn't in the mood to put up with his brother's c.r.a.p. "Shut up," he told Allan. "This place sounds perfect on paper." He didn't want to admit that when the clerk's hand touched his, he'd felt some sort of weird spark, like static electricity. And the woman's gaze had widened slightly before a beaming smile split her face.

Not to mention he had the distinct feeling she'd suddenly known everything about him, and Allan. Including the fact that they weren't gay.

That's stupid. You're just tired and jittery.

They walked up to the bakery, which, sure enough, was closed. As instructed by the clerk, they found their way to an alley and walked around back where it looked like a regular family party was going on.

Ben quickly scanned the group. No g.a.n.g.b.a.n.gers from the looks of them, but among the nearly twenty people there, only one of them was white. A woman sitting on a step while balancing a plateful of barbecue on her lap.

A large, older black man Ben guessed was either a father or uncle of the group stood at their approach. The man's gaze suspiciously narrowed as he studied them. "Can we help you, gentlemen?"

Before Ben could speak, Allan did. "Yeah, we just came from the coffeeshop across the square." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the card from Ben and held it up. "The clerk there gave us this. We're looking to rent an apartment in town for at least six months."

The man's face cleared as he smiled. "Welcome." He pointed to the woman sitting on the step, who was mid-bite. "That's the lady you want to speak with right there."

Ben slowed as Allan stepped ahead. The woman wore a nervous expression as she looked up at them. Her sweet, green eyes glanced from Ben back to Allan. A light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones looked gorgeous against her milky skin. She wore her long, auburn hair pulled back in a loose braid.

I'd love to wrap that around my hand while she- He blinked. What the f.u.c.k? He uncomfortably shifted position and hoped his rapidly growing erection wasn't visible.

"Ms. Addams?" Allan said, holding up the pink index card. "Sorry to interrupt your lunch. May we talk with you about the apartment?"

She nodded. Ben thought she looked like a frightened deer.

"We-"

"We're gay," Ben blurted out as he stepped forward. He glanced around, but now that they knew the two men weren't a threat, the others had gone back to their meal and weren't paying any further attention to them. "Wanted to say that up front in case it's an issue for you. We're cousins, not involved with each other. We needed to get away from our families and find some peace."

She visibly relaxed, but Allan shot him a deadly glare Ben wasn't expecting. Ben didn't understand why Allan was upset, because that was the cover story they'd agreed upon.

They'd also agreed not to get involved with anyone while they were in hiding. It wouldn't be fair to a woman to do that to her, knowing they had to stick to their lie. Plus it could put her, as well as them, at risk.

Allan picked up the thread again. "We're really interested in looking at the apartment, if that's okay?"

"Oh, sure." She stood, carefully balancing her plate of food, and slowly led them up the stairs. "This way."

The upstairs smelled like fresh furniture polish, which did little to disguise the delicious mix of bakery and barbecue aromas wafting up from downstairs. She set her plate on a small bookshelf in the hallway and led them to an open door. "This is the apartment. I'm sorry about the mess, but we'll be done in a few hours. I was using this one, but I moved into the other one because this one's bigger. It's basically ready to move into, once we get done switching the furniture around. And if you don't mind rearranging stuff. Or if you want to wait until tomorrow-"

"Today's fine," Ben said, giving her a smile. She was so cute, her black plaid baker's pants and grey T-shirt not hiding the sweet curves of her figure. She wasn't skinny, but she wasn't fat, either. She wore her beautiful figure in the sweetly self-conscious way of a woman who didn't realize how pretty she really was.

And she thinks we're gay.

He hoped he stifled his groan.

If he caught her trying to diet, he'd be tempted to spank her beautiful a.s.s to stop her from losing weight. Another thought he clamped down on. "We can pay first, last, and deposit if you want. Cash."

He didn't miss her surprised blink. She was hurting for money, no doubt. "Okay," she said, a slight squeak in her voice. "That'll be fifteen hundred. Is that okay?"

He frowned as he quickly did the math in his head. "That's only a hundred-dollar deposit. That's not very much."

"I could drop the last month requirement?"

Bless her heart, she wasn't used to dealing with tenants. From the looks of the furniture, and her lack of makeup, she appeared to be a down-home girl, not one of the skinny and looks-obsessed women he'd grown to hate dealing with while undercover in Miami.

One of the vacuous kinds of women Allan was notorious for dating.

"We'll pay twenty-one hundred," Allan said, surprising Ben. "A month's worth for the deposit is standard. And we'll be paying cash every month, if that's all right with you."

Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief that his brother had latched on to the same wavelength he had.

She nodded, but looked a little confused, in addition to overwhelmed. "May I ask what you do for a living?"

"He's a struggling artist," Ben said, tipping his head toward Allan. "He just quit his job at an insurance firm. I'm working on starting my own Internet consulting firm." He held out a hand. "I'm Ken. Ken Dougherty. This is my cousin, Charles Stackhouse." When she slipped her hand into his to shake with him, he immediately lightened up on his grip when he noticed her wince. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He let go and she pulled her hand back. "No, it's okay," she said as she gingerly cradled her hands. "I've got arthritis and fibromyalgia. My hands almost always hurt. Especially this time of year."

The older man had climbed the stairs and caught her last statement. "Did you take your medicine, young lady?"

Ben successfully stifled his laugh. From the man's tone of voice, he definitely considered himself her father.

The woman's face reddened. "No, not yet, Grover. I took it this morning. I can't take another one for an hour yet."

Grover nodded. "Make sure you do." He pointed at them. "You boys thinking about renting the apartment?"

They both nodded.

"Good. Then I expect you to help me keep an eye on her. She's stubborn."

"I'm sorry," Ben said to the woman. "What was your first name again?"

"LacieBelle. LacieBelle Addams. But you can call me Libbie."

As much as she loved Grover, Libbie wanted to smack him. Okay, so the cousins were gay. Big whoop. They were still handsome, and now she felt like a scolded schoolgirl in front of them.

"Did you say Mandaline sent you?" she asked. "From Many Blessings?"

The men nodded. The dark-haired cousin, Ken, said, "I'm guessing you mean the lady from the coffeeshop?"

"Yeah." Maybe there's something to Mandaline's magic after all. She couldn't get over how alike they looked, including their beautiful blue eyes.

Charles said, "She seemed really nice."

"She is. They buy their pastries from me." She realized they both carried small paper bags bearing the store's logo.

Ken smiled, turning his stern expression into a handsomely playful sight. "We hadn't got that far yet," he said, holding up the bag. "But we bought cheese danishes."

"Well come on in here. You can eat at the counter. We're still moving the furniture and stuff around." She led them into the apartment. "Charles, since you're an artist, you might like that this apartment gets really nice light during the day and afternoon." She pointed to two large windows against the living room wall. "That's another reason I decided to move to the other apartment. It's darker later in the day. I'm an early riser and go to bed early. Occupational hazard of owning a bakery. Plus I didn't need the second bedroom."