Page 43 of Three Reckless Words

“Hey, Winnie!” he calls. “What happens if you get stung?”

“I’m not allergic, so nothing to worry about.” She shakes the frame, dislodging most of the bees back in the box. “I don’t mind. It hurts a little, but it’s not so bad, really. There are way worse things.”

Like a clown who leaves you so heartbroken you run hundreds of miles to find bees as a distraction?

I wonder.

There are so many little flying bugs surrounding her now. I can barely see what she’s doing, but she’s moving slowly, carefully. She doesn’t seem to mind the way they crawl all over her.

Just watching it makes my skin itch.

It’s not a quick process, either.

After she’s dislodged the bees with lots of patience, coaxing, and promises—yes, she reminds them constantly she’s their best damn friend—Winnie puts the frame in a clear bag.

Repeat for another nine frames caked with honey, and finally, she’s on her way back.

A few bees still cling to her stubbornly.

Not necessarily to attack, I think, though I wouldn’t put that past them. More like raw curiosity, I guess.

That makes two of us.

The bugs must be as baffled as I am over this bright, sexy woman invading their space.

“My bad. I wore the wrong perfume today,” she explains once she’s next to us again.

“Wrong perfume?” I know as soon as I’ve asked it’s a dangerous question.

I caught a whiff of it when she invited us in, and even in that big white space suit, she smells wonderful. Floral and succulent with a hint of cinnamon-like heat underneath for just the right sizzle.

Damnably enticing.

Damnably annoying that she has to remind me.

“It attracts the bees. Certain scents do,” she says matter-of-factly. “No big deal except I don’t need a load of them following me around.”

Colt ducks back as a bee flies in front of my face. I have to grit my teeth to step back gracefully and not swat it out of midair.

I’m not scared of them, no, but who likes bugs hovering around their face?

Only, as I look at Winnie wearing the widest smile I’ve seen, I have my answer.

“Off you go, guys. Head back home,” she coos to the bees clinging to her. “Okay, perfect. Let’s go. The extractor is in the shed and I’ve already set it up. We can finish up there.”

Colt holds the door open for her and we head inside, shutting out the rest of the bees. With all three of us in here, the space feels cramped.

I’m surprised to see she wasn’t kidding about setting things up. It looks like a miniature lab in here with a small foldout card table and equipment I’ve never seen.

I lean against the wall, my arms folded. This industrial-grade honey harvesting wasnotwhat I had in mind when I came over.

She eyes me like she knows I’m scolding her behind my withering gaze, but all she says is, “Wow, three’s company in here for sure. Can I get a little space, guys? I just need to get out of this gear.”

I nod pointedly at the wall crammed up behind me, and she rolls her eyes, tugging off the helmet and shaking out her hair.

“Okay, I get it. Just think small.”

Think small? Who the hell does she think she is?

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