Badd Business Read online

  Badd Business

  Jasinda Wilder

  Copyright © 2018 by Jasinda Wilder

  BADD BUSINESS

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Also by Jasinda Wilder

  1

  Remington

  Holy mother of shit.

  I didn’t dare let go of her, or she’d hit the ground. My reflexes had kicked into gear before I even realized what was going on, and in a matter of a few seconds my world got turned upside down. We had accidentally bumped into each other in a hospital hallway and she went flying. It might have been the best bit of serendipity I’ve ever experienced.

  Oh, man. Now that I had my hands on this girl, there was no way I was letting go. I was not giving up the juicy handful of her soft, squishy ass, or the up close and personal look at her big, wide, soulful, startled brown eyes. And no way was I walking away from that cleavage spilling out of her top.

  She was just staring up at me, her big brown eyes fixed on mine, staring into me, through me. It was almost as if she couldn’t believe I was real, and that this was happening.

  But trust me, honey, I’m real, and this is happening.

  “Hi…” Her voice was low and musical. “Thanks,” she breathed softly, “I’m Juneau.” And with that she regained her balance and stood up in the middle of the hospital corridor.

  Juneau?

  Yet her name fit her perfectly. She was clearly Native American…or Native Alaskan, more accurately. I knew enough about northern cultures to know there were several different ethnic groups, but I couldn’t even begin to guess whether she was Eskimo, Inuit, or Aleut. I didn’t understand the differences between these groups—I just knew enough to know that I knew nothing.

  The point was, this girl was a vision of exotic sensuality. As she stood before me I could see that her flawless skin was a dark olive, and her hair was a glossy black, and thick and braided down her back. She was almost a full foot shorter than me, standing maybe five feet four and she had absolutely stunning curves.

  Eye-popping, mouth-watering, cock-hardening curves.

  She was something else.

  God, what was wrong with me? I was still standing there, staring at her like a love-struck teenager.

  I laughed at myself, a rumble of amusement at my idiotic inability to stop drooling over this chick. I had to take control.

  But all I could manage was, “Hi, I’m Remington.”

  She just stared up at me, those liquid chocolate eyes blinking at me, her mouth open in an absolutely adorable little O. Gahh…that lower lip. Pouty. Full. Kissable. Biteable.

  I moved aside before I actually did bite and kiss the lower lip of a random stranger in a hospital hallway. People tend to frown on that.

  Although, the way she was still staring at me had me wondering if maybe she wouldn’t mind all that much.

  “Remington,” she breathed, not taking her eyes off me. “Hi, Remington. I’m Juneau.”

  I laughed again. “Yeah, I know—you just told me.”

  Considering her olive complexion it was hard to tell, but I had a feeling she was blushing. “Oh. You’re right. Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I told her. “With a cool-ass name like Juneau, I’d be saying it a lot too.”

  Could I sound any more idiotic? I think my IQ just dropped to room temperature.

  “Remington is a cool name, too.”

  Guess I wasn’t the only one fumbling for something to say.

  Juneau and I seemed to be at the end of our conversational repartee when we both heard someone break our reverie.

  “Wow,” said a female voice, amused and mocking. “You two…are not cool. Like, not at all.”

  I glanced at the speaker, and was immediately reminded of what my brother, Roman, said the first day we walked into Badd’s Bar and Grill in Ketchikan and saw all the beautiful women: Seriously, what the FUCK is in the water up here?

  A good question.

  There had to be something in the air or the water up here, because the women were fucking ridiculously gorgeous. And this girl, this sassy redhead who was mouthing us off was no exception. She was, in a word, stunning. I couldn’t believe I had two gorgeous women standing in front of me. If I weren’t already halfway to the altar with Juneau, I’d be salivating over this goddess; she was tall—five-seven or -eight—with strawberry blonde hair and creamy, freckled skin to go with it. I took in her mammoth tits, tight waist, and popping booty. Her green eyes sparkled with fire, telling me she knew that she had it going on, and I knew getting this girl into bed would be taking a tiger by the tail.

  Juneau spoke up, shooting the redhead an eye roll, “Be nice, Izzy.”

  “I am being nice. It’s just that you two are so adorably lame as hell.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the redhead—Izzy. “First, let me introduce myself. I’m Remington. I’m gonna have to agree with Juneau, here. You should be nice.”

  Her eyes raked me over blatantly. “Uh-huh. I’ll be nice if you take off your shirt.”

  “You first,” I said.

  “Wouldn’t you like that?” she said, flipping her long, wavy copper hair over her shoulder.

  I shrugged. “I mean, if we’re taking off our shirts, I’d rather you start,” I said to Juneau with a grin.

  “No one is taking off their shirt,” Juneau said with a sigh that spoke of long-suffering familiarity with Izzy’s antics. “Not Izzy, not you, and certainly not me.”

  “Hell, if it gets me a gander at his abs, I’ll take my top off in a New York minute,” Izzy said.

  Juneau groaned. “You know, sadly, I think you’d actually do it.”

  Izzy just smirked. “You know it, babe.” She eyed me. “So. Do we have a deal?”

  How the hell had I gotten myself into this? As much as I’d appreciate seeing anyone’s tits—because tits are the best—I’d much rather see Juneau’s.

  Izzy’s were definitely on display, framed by an expensive-looking white silk shirt with a plunging neckline, hints of a white lace bra peeking out—intentionally, I assumed.

  Juneau wasn’t going out of her way to display her assets and, in a way, that was way sexier to me. There was just something about Juneau that kept pulling my gaze to her.

  She was wearing a black ankle-length skirt that hugged her hips and ass and thighs before loosening to drift airily around her feet, a black T-shirt underneath an open-front green, white, and black zigzag patterned sweater. The T-shirt clung to and emphasized her plump, perky, round breasts while hardly revealing any skin at all. Her black braid hung over her left shoulder, and she reached up to twist the end of it as she and I once more locked stares.

  She tugged the edges of her sweater closer together, and then crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Was I staring? Yes.

  Definitely staring.

  But then, she was staring back—at my arms.

  Which, I admit, were pretty nicely showcased by the tight, plain white T-shirt I was wearing.

  “Well, this is a riveting conversation,” Izzy said, he
r tone dripping sarcasm, pulling both my gaze and Juneau’s back to her. “Remington, since you are not going to answer my questions, could you please tell Kitty we’re here to see her?”

  “Kitty?” I asked, momentarily blanking.

  “Yeah, Kitty. ’bout my height, light brown hair, big boobs, dating your brother?” She looked at me as if I was a mouth-breathing caveman, which to be fair, I was kind of acting like. “Our best friend and roommate?”

  “Oh, right. Kitty.” I shook my head. “Kitty—yeah. She’s in there.” I jerked my thumb at the closed hospital door behind me.

  Izzy closed her eyes and sighed, and then spoke as if dealing with someone particularly slow on the uptake. “I know, Remington. That’s why we’re here. Juneau and I flew down from Ketchikan to support her. We just arrived here in Seattle and we want you to go in there and tell Kitty we’re out here.”

  “Why?” I was not normally this slow or stupid but, for some reason, Juneau seemed to have turned me into a moron.

  “Because she’s our friend and we want to see her?” Izzy replied, enunciating each word slowly and clearly.

  The message finally arrived. I blinked at her for a moment, and then turned around, opened the door, and said to the assembled visitors: “Kitty! Your friends are here.” I leaned against the doorframe. “This is Juneau, the nice one, and this is Isabel, the mouthy one.”

  “I’m not mouthy, I’m opinionated,” Izzy said, primly. “And my name is Isadora, not Isabel.”

  “Right, Isabel,” I said, getting it wrong just to annoy her.

  She clearly wasn’t going to be baited. She just snorted, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “You can have this one, Juneau. He’s a little dense for my taste. I like my men to be able to talk and breathe at the same time.”

  “Fine by me,” I shot back. “Because I like my women without inflatable boobs.”

  She cupped the body parts in question and shook them at me; they jiggled in such a way that made it clear they were all natural. “Does it look like they’re inflatable, you big dumb moose?”

  “They look one hundred percent real to me,” I heard Ramsey say from just inside the room. “You’re welcome to bring them in here and shake them at me if you want…Isadora.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “I think I will, thank you. At least someone around here has manners.”

  I heard my brother Roman bark a laugh from inside the hospital room. “If you think Ramsey has manners, you’re in for a rude surprise, sweetheart. He makes the rest of us look civilized.”

  “Izzy, seriously, do have to cause trouble literally everywhere you go?” That was Kitty, chastising her friend with a sigh.

  “Yes, I do. It’s my trademark.” And with that Izzy flounced into the hospital room, shooting daggers at me over her shoulder.

  “God, Izzy, you’re such a problem,” Juneau said, but I could tell it was meant with love.

  Juneau shot me a look and said quietly, “She’s sensitive about her boobs. People think they’re fake all the time, and it pisses her off.”

  I let my gaze wander down Juneau’s chest. “I bet you get the same thing.”

  She ducked her head with a sharp laugh. “Yeah… not so much.”

  “No?”

  “Ha—nice try, Remington, but I’m not buying your backhanded flattery. If you’re trying to impress me, that’s not the way to go about it.”

  “Sorry. But, honestly, I’m basically telling you your tits are perfect. I mean, that’s why women get implants, right? To try and make their boobs look as close to perfect as possible?”

  She tilted her head and eyed me with a puzzled frown. “Um, I guess I can see where you are coming from, but it only works if my boobs actually look like they could be fake. Izzy’s do. Mine? Not so much.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know—I think they do. They’re big, they’re round, they’re perky.”

  She frowned. “Um. Thanks? But why are we talking about my breasts?”

  I grinned. “Because they’re beautiful. Just like the rest of you.”

  Again, I had the feeling she was blushing, but before I could say anything more, she turned toward the door.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, “well, um…I’m going to say hi to Kitty and Mr. Badd.”

  A nurse bustled between us and entered the room at that moment. “Excuse me, there are way too many people in this room,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hands. “Immediate family only. Mr. Badd has just suffered a terrible car accident. He’s injured, and he needs his rest.”

  “Kitty is family,” I heard Roman growl. “She’s staying with me and my brothers.”

  I could see the nurse going pale at the warning tone in Roman’s voice. “Um. I’m sorry, but your father really needs his rest. I must insist you all come back during visiting hours.”

  As everyone said their goodbyes and slowly exited the room I turned to Juneau. “Well, there goes that plan,” I said. “Wanna go get a cup of shitty hospital coffee with me?”

  “Mmmm, shitty coffee,” she said, faking enthusiasm. “You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

  “Maybe it’s not your heart I’m trying to get into.” Jesus, why did I say that? That’s a line Roman would use and I’m usually not as uncouth as he is. What’s wrong with me all of a sudden?

  Juneau just rolled her eyes at me—it’s actually kind of amazing how many different kinds of expression she could pack into one look; so far, she’d given an irritated eye roll, a frustrated eye roll, an amused eye roll, and now this one—a bit of all three, along with a dash of…I don’t know. Thinly disguised attraction? There’s something there, I can tell. She was irritated at my admittedly inappropriate innuendo, but she didn’t slap me, or walk away.

  Yet.

  Give it time, and she might. In my experience, women have three ways of dealing with us Badd boys when we’re being dicks: we either get slapped, or they walk away, or we fuck.

  And sometimes, all three.

  Please god, all three. Or just the third.

  “Well, regardless of where else you may be trying to get, shitty coffee isn’t going to open the door.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Just a word of unsolicited advice.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, probably not.” I leaned closer so I was towering over her, smirking down at her; I was giving her my best smirk, the one that always drops the panties. “How about I promise you shitty coffee now, and really great coffee in the morning?”

  She frowned at me. “In the morning?”

  I lifted an eyebrow suggestively. “Yeah. I make a mean pot of coffee.”

  She closed her eyes as she arrived at the realization of what I was suggesting. “Oh. Ahh…Yeah. I see.” She moved past me, walking away down the hallway. “That’s gonna be a no. But thanks for the oh-so-romantic offer…I think.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be romantic, Juneau,” I said, catching up.

  “Was that your idea of a pickup line?”

  “Which part?”

  She waved behind us. “The whole thing. Flirting with me. Offering to make me coffee in the morning, suggesting I spend the night the night with you. Admitting you’re not trying to be romantic. Shall I go on?”

  “I dunno,” I said. “I guess it’s only a pickup line if it works.” I grinned at her. “So, seeing as you haven’t told me to fuck off yet, I guess I’d say…yeah, it’s my idea of a pickup line.”

  “Would you listen if I did tell you to go away?”

  “Not right away. Like your friend with the attitude said, I’m a little slow on the uptake.”

  “Don’t mind Izzy. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  “She bites?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “God, I don’t know. Probably? There’s not much she won’t do, from what I understand.”

  I laughed. “Good to know. I’ll let Ramsey figure that one out on his own. He’s into that kind of thing too.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shook my he
ad, and I wasn’t grinning, now. “No, not really. My tastes are…a little more straightforward.”

  She cleared her throat and picked up her pace. “I see. Thanks for sharing, but I’m not sure I needed to know that.”

  “Sure you did. It’s handy information to have.” I quirked an eyebrow at her. “You know. For later.”

  She just shook her head. “Awfully confident of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  She eyed me steadily as we got on the elevator together. “They say confidence is attractive but, you know, arrogance really isn’t.” She quirked an eyebrow back at me. “Nor is blatant sexual innuendo with someone you’ve literally just met.”

  “Are you offended?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Not offended, no. I’m more just curious to know if this approach actually works for you.”

  “Honestly?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, honestly.”

  I laughed, somewhat sheepishly, and raked my hand through my hair. “Yeah, it usually does work.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’d say…eighty percent of the time.”

  “And the other twenty percent of the time?”

  I grinned at her. “Well…the other twenty percent of the time is evenly split between being slapped, or being told to fuck off.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  “What, getting slapped, or told to fuck off?”

  “Yeah, usually.”

  “Usually? That means sometimes it’s not worth it?” She exited the elevator and glanced at the signs on the wall opposite. “Have you been to the cafeteria here? I thought it was on this floor.”

  I laughed, indicating she should turn right. “Yeah, it’s down this way. Not very well marked, is it?”

  “No,” she said, following my direction. “Ugh. I hate hospitals. I don’t trust them.”

  “Same.”