Page 62 of Serving Bunt

Nah, fuck that.

I wanted the cuddling. In fact, on the pyramid of Peter Diaz’s favorite things—Abuelita’s pastelón, videos of animals reacting to music, and Chris Evans in cable-knit sweaters—cuddling with Matty Miller was quickly climbing the ranks.

I stepped out of the barn into the bright afternoon light, already scanning for a familiar head of strawberry-blond hair, when I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

What in the actual hell?

Bennett was walking arm-in-arm with Abuelita like they were on a leisurely Sunday stroll through the park. Bella was on Abuelita’s other side, laughing at something she’d said, while a woman I didn’t recognize walked beside them carrying a couple of iced coffees.

And right there in the middle of it all, looking equal parts amused and mortified, was Matty.

“¡Mijo!” Abuelita spotted me instantly and lit up like a Christmas tree. “There’s my favorite grandson!”

I stood frozen for another beat, still processing the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of me, before I finally found my voice.

“What— How are you all even here right now?”

She waved a hand like it was obvious. “Benito picked me up this morning. Bella and I were both dying to see the set, so he made a couple of calls, and the producers told us to come on down for the day.”

She turned that same beaming smile on Matty. “And this one—such a gentleman. He carried my purse all the way from the parking lot.”

Well, damn. That was no easy feat. Abuelita’s purse put Mary Poppins’s bag to shame.

Matty’s ears went bright pink. “It was nothing, ma’am. Really.”

“You hear that? He called me ma’am.” Abuelita patted his arm fondly. “Such a good boy.”

I dragged a hand over my stubble, torn between laughing and dying on the spot. Of all the phrases she could’ve chosen . . .

“I’m Parker,” the curvy stranger said, stepping forward to extend her hand. She had cool, artsy energy written all over her. From her icy-blonde hair, shaved close on one side, to the chunky, pink, heart-shaped sunglasses that matched her boots.

“Parker’s my business partner,” Bella quickly added, signing along with her words out of habit.

Bennett wore cochlear implants, but Bella had taken to signing through most conversations anyway. Hell, most of the team knew some ASL, and the Roasters even had an interpreter on staff. Conversations had a way of becoming spoken and signed at the same time without anyone really thinking twice about it anymore.

“I prefer creative co-conspirator,” Parker corrected. “Business partner sounds boring. Especially when we sell sexy, honey products.”

“You sell . . . what?” Matty choked.

“Our sensual self-care line. Bee Intimate,” Parker announced with pride. “Warming lotions, massage bars, edible body dust—all made with honey from Bella’s hives. They’re proving to be very popular. Right, Bennett?”

Bennett awkwardly cleared his throat and five amused sets of eyes turned in his direction.

The whole team was more than aware of Bella’s growing honey empire, mostly because Bennett spent most of his time talking up his girl. But apparently, I had missed the part where she’d entered her sexy beekeeper era.

And judging by the smug smile on my former roommate’s face, it was safe to say that he’d had some firsthand experience—in all manners of the word—with some of Bella’s products.

Abuelita clapped her hands together. “¡Ay, I love this idea!”

My head whipped toward her so fast I thought I might’ve pulled something. “Abuelita.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Peter. I was married for forty-two years, so I know a lot more about intimacy than you do.” She nodded toward Bella and Parker. “It takes effort, doesn’t it, ladies?”

“You said it, Abuelita,” Bella answered.

Parker echoed the sentiment with an enthusiastic, “Preach.” Thankfully, there was no time to dwell on the image of my grandparents getting it on. “I heard y’all really tore up the floor last night at the Velvet Kitty.”

Parker directed that one toward me. “Damn, word travels fast around here.”