Badd Kitty (Badd Brothers #9) ~ Page 2

Alejandro and Big D both chortled, because Jason was five-ten and weighed maybe a hundred and thirty soaking wet, and was as gentle as a kitten"and just as adorably clueless.

Jason sighed. "I did take three years of Kung Fu, you know."

Big D just clapped a hand the size of a bear"s paw on Jason"s thin shoulder. "You come by my place sometime, young"un. We"ll lift some weights and my lady will feed you"get some meat on those skinny bones of yours."

This was not an idle offer on Big D"s part"he was generous to a fault, willing to help anyone out, and had a habit of taking younger guys under his wing. Despite being one of the most genuinely kind people I"ve ever met, he was not someone you"d even consider crossing, and this was not just due to his size, but his demeanor of calm confidence that somehow contained a veiled hint of past darkness.

Jason grinned. "You mean it" I"ve always wanted to go to a gym, but I wouldn"t know where to start, and I feel like other guys would tease me for it."

Big D grabbed a ticket as it spat out of the printer, reading it over before handing it to Alejandro. "We both open on Friday. You come with me after we"re done, and I"ll show you some things."

Alejandro spoke while fixing the salad that was the only item on the ticket"a bar food order. "Hey, I like to work out too, Big D. Why you never invite me, huh""

Big D rumbled a laugh. "I seen your setup, "Jandro. You got more iron than I do, son."

Alejandro put the finishing touches on the salad. "Then you both come to my place and we all lift the weights together, s"""

I took the salad from Alejandro after washing my hands. "I"ll take it out. I need to check on my tables anyway."

I closed out three tables in the next fifteen minutes, and finally had time to roll some silverware and do some of my other side work while my drinks-only tables worked on their beverages.

Despite needing the money, I was half hoping the bar would die out soon so I could go home; I"d worked doubles the two previous days as well as today, but I had tomorrow off. When I"d done as much of my side work as I could do before closing, I went behind the bar and helped Lucian wash glasses and restock, just to keep busy. At this point, I knew if I slowed down or sat down I"d never get back up, so I made sure to keep moving.

I was ten minutes from the official end of my shift when the hair on the back of my neck prickled, and an odd shiver ran down my spine. I was wiping down a table that had just cashed out and left, and slowly straightened and turned to see what had sent that shiver through me.

The front door was propped open, and three men walked through it"although swaggered is the better term for how they moved. Heads high, shoulders back, arms swinging loosely, their gaits slow and lazy. I gaped at them as they spread out in the entrance of the bar, eyeing the interior for a good place to sit.

They were identical triplets, and each of them was utterly jaw-dropping. Six feet four, easily, if not six-five. It"s easy to talk about solid muscle, but these men took the concept to a whole new level. I was the head waitress for Badd"s Bar and Grill, and I was close enough to the eight Badd brothers after a year and a half of working for them that I thought of them as almost like family; my point here is that the Badd brothers"especially the older four"were some of the biggest, most powerfully built, and, honestly, sexiest men I"d ever met in person. Each of the brothers was fit to the point of absurdity, and Bast, Zane, and Bax, especially, were built like professional athletes. So monster physiques didn"t faze me very much, until now.

These three triplets"

I was fazed.

Very, very fazed.

Bast was six-four and I knew from overhearing his conversations with Bax that he weighed somewhere around two-forty. These men had to be packing at least twenty pounds more than that of solid, lean muscle. It was mind-boggling. Yet despite their insane muscle mass, none of them lumbered around like a muscle-bound juice-head. They moved with lithe, easy, catlike grace. Like Zane, in some ways. They had a similar look in their eyes as the combat-hardened former Navy SEAL, and moved with the same intimidating assurance of their own prowess and power.

They were blond-haired and blue-eyed, with square-jawed, hard-hewn features. The first through the door had his hair cut short enough that it stuck up in natural spikes, and was clean-shaven. The second was similar, though his hair was longer on top and slicked straight back, also clean-shaven. The third had hair long enough to sweep over his head and drape in front of his face, with a short, neat blond beard. Each wore faded, well-worn blue jeans over battered, scuffed, dirty, square-toed cowboy boots, plain black leather belts, and T-shirts printed with various logos"the first through the door wore a shirt featuring a parachute with wings that said "California Smokejumpers," the second bore the logo of the US Forest Service, and the third, worn by the triplet with the beard, wore a baseball T-shirt with a professional rodeo logo on it.


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