Just when you thought we had run out of Badd"
Meet Roman Badd, one of a set of triplets, each bigger and badder than the last. If you thought the original Badd brothers were sexy, foul-mouthed alphas, just wait till you meet these three sexy-as-sin, long-lost Badd cousins"
Roman is a smokejumper, an elite member of the US Forest Service who parachutes into the most rugged and remote terrain to combat out-of-control wildfires unreachable even by hotshots. He"s brash, domineering, and an expert at seduction.
Kitty Quinn is the exact opposite. The head server at Badd"s Bar and Grille, she"s the daughter of a philosophy professor and a kindergarten teacher: sweet and kind, and with a persona of innocence and purity"catnip for the ravenous lion that is Roman Badd. She knows she"s in way over her head with him, but this good girl has enough inner strength and confidence to stand up to Roman"s hard-charging, take-what-he-wants attitude.
Can she get past his foul mouth and unapologetically rapacious sexual appetite to the good, kind man she wants to believe lurks beneath, or is Roman Badd as wild and untamable as the fires he fights"Books in Series:Badd Brothers Series by Jasinda WilderBooks by Author:Jasinda Wilder Books
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"Yo, Kitty"that couple at table six is asking for more mayo, and thirteen needs refills all around." Sebastian Badd"everyone familiar with him called him Bast"my boss, tossed this at me as he passed me on his way back behind the bar. "Also, you"ve got food up."
I was at the service bar, waiting for Lucian"the second youngest Badd brother"to make my tray of drinks. I had a table I needed to greet still, another table to check on, food up in the window for two different tables, and now the refills to get and the mayo"I was buried. I"d been in the bar serving since eleven this morning, and now it was past nine at night, and I was exhausted. The tips had been stellar, so it was worth it, but still.
I glanced at Bast as I arranged the drinks on the tray as Lucian finished preparing them. "I"m swamped right now, Bast. Can you run the food and grab the mayo""
"That sounds hard," he said, in his deep, growly voice, only barely suppressing a smirk. "You gonna split your tips with me if I do""
I rolled my eyes at him. "Sure"how about a quarter of one percent""
"Make it two-thirds of a percent and you"ve got yourself a deal."
I snorted, pulling a wrinkled, crumpled five-dollar bill out of my apron, wadded it into a ball, and threw it at him. "There, that should cover it."
Bast chuckled as he retrieved the wadded money off the floor. "You need a math refresher if you think five bucks is three-quarters of a percent of what you"ve made today."
I laughed, balancing the tray on my shoulder. "You know, I"m not sure I could figure out three-quarters of one percent. I can do waitress math, but that"s about it."
Xavier, the youngest of the eight brothers, was sitting at the booth nearest the entrance to the kitchen; that booth was the permanently reserved as a "Family Booth," and nearly always had someone sitting in it: an off-duty Badd brother, or one of their wives or girlfriends, and/or kids.
"How much have you made so far"" Xavier asked.
I did a rough estimate. "Umm, probably around four hundred."
Xavier didn"t even have to think. "Three-quarters of a percent of four hundred dollars is three dollars."
Sebastian laughed. "Thanks, Professor."
Xavier, as usual, totally missed the sarcasm. "You"re welcome. And I"m not a professor, yet. I have three more semesters until I finish my masters, at which point I would be eligible to teach at a university."
Sebastian, Lucian, and I all laughed. I delivered the drinks to the correct tables, greeted the new four-top, and took drink orders, checked on seven and five, and then swung by three and eight, the tables to which Sebastian had delivered food. Shoot"the mayo! But Sebastian had done that too.
Finally, for the first time in over two hours, all my tables were either good or waiting for food"which meant I could pop into the kitchen and take a moment to breathe. Entering the kitchen, I tossed my tray on the silver metal table between me and the line cooks"Jason, Alejandro, and Big D. I allowed myself to collapse forward against the table, resting my head on my forearms. The familiar sounds of a restaurant kitchen washed over me as I closed my eyes and just breathed, shifting my weight from one tired foot to the other.
"La Gatita est" muy cansando, creo," Alejandro said, a playful grin cracking his sun-weathered Columbian features.
I nodded, mentally translating his Spanish into "The kitten is very tired." "Yeah, you could say that."
Big D"a six-foot-six black man built like an industrial refrigerator, who would be terrifying if he wasn"t one of the sweetest, kindest, and most gentle men I"d ever met"pulled two chicken tenders and a small handful of fries from the fryer baskets, tossed them on a plate, and slid the plate to me. "I made extra," he said, in his voice like velvet and syrup. "You oughta eat."
I accepted the food gratefully, scarfing it down with as much lady-like grace as my famished state would allow. "Thanks, Big D," I said, offering him a smile.
He just nodded. "You got someone walkin" you home""
I shrugged. "It"s not far. I"ll be fine."
He just frowned at me. "Nah. I"ll walk you." He took this job very seriously, never letting me walk home alone after a late shift, even though he had a thirty-minute bus ride and a ten-minute walk to get home himself. "Pretty young thing like you, somebody gon" snap you up if we don"t keep an eye on you."
Jason was the newest addition to the Badd Bar and Grill kitchen; he was nineteen, a recent transplant to Ketchikan from way up in Gnome, wore his long brown hair in a loose ponytail, and seldom spoke. "I could walk you home sometime, if you wanted," he said, smiling shyly at me.