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  All Dillon wants to do is flirt with his crush. Too bad his family keeps getting in the way.

  It’s Saturday night and nineteen-year-old beekeeper Dillon should be at home enjoying game night with his big family, but he can’t resist another trip to the strip club. It’s the only night he gets to see Cal, who stars in all Dillon’s fantasies and has no idea he’s been using a fake ID to get in to see him.

  But making fantasy a reality? That’s difficult, especially when Dillon’s family can’t see him as an adult, let alone someone capable of dating a man twice his age. And that’s only the beginning of the complications that seem determined to keep Dillon and Cal apart.

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  American Honey

  Copyright © 2020 Caitlin Ricci

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-2773-3

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc

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  American Honey

  Hillcrest Farm Book 1

  By

  Caitlin Ricci

  Chapter One

  Dillon

  There were probably a million things I should have been doing instead of going back to Gents to watch the guys dance. It was a Saturday night. In my family that meant game night. We’d get together at my cousin Gavin’s house and sit around and play Risk or Clue or Ticket to Ride or something. They were probably wondering where I was now, though no one had started texting me yet. My two older brothers would be there, along with my three cousins and Gavin’s ex-wife, Cindy, and his kid, Kyle.

  But I’d be missing game night this Saturday, just as I’d missed it last Saturday too. I couldn’t play it off like I’d forgotten what day it was or anything like that either. We all had the reminders on our phones. I should have been there with my family.

  Instead I was at Gents, because Saturday nights were the only night, as far as I could tell anyway, that Callum worked. He was probably at least thirty and his reddish blond hair was curly and hopefully naturally that color. I’d seen him almost completely naked over my last few months of coming here so I was pretty sure he didn’t do a thing to change the color of his hair. I was really glad about that.

  In my fantasies, of which I’d had plenty featuring him already, he spoke with a deep Irish accent. He also wore a kilt though, and a sash, and sometimes even a dagger. He never took any of it off. I hadn’t gotten that far in my daydreams of him yet, but I’d been undressed by him plenty.

  Callum came on the stage, accompanied by some song I didn’t know. It had a fast beat with a high-pitched female voice screaming out. I tuned the song out as much as possible. I wasn’t next to the stage, two tables away from it actually. I didn’t want to be caught staring, even though I was. I looked at my hands on top of the table often. Pretty much every time Callum looked at me, I glanced down at my hands. I couldn’t handle his smile that seemed like it was only meant for me. I couldn’t look at him and find him looking back at me. I was trying to be invisible, while still being there. I didn’t want to be off in a corner somewhere where I couldn’t see him at all. I’d paid the cover and I’d already ordered my two beers for the two-drink minimum. I’d probably only have one of them. That’s what I did most of the time at least.

  My phone vibrated and as much as I didn’t want to see it, I pulled it out anyway. I wasn’t surprised to see a text from my cousin’s ex-wife. Cindy was Kyle’s mom and she and Gavin got along most of the time. Better than I did with any of my exes anyway, but then again, I didn’t have kids with my exes and Gavin was over a decade older than me.

  You’re not here. Are you sick?

  I sighed. If I said I was sick, someone would have driven by my house to check on me. If I said I was busy, someone would have offered to help so that I could get done faster and get to game night. I didn’t know what to say but I knew I had to lie.

  Had something else to do tonight.

  Liar.

  I pursed my lips and put my phone away. I wasn’t lying. I did have something else to do. Staring at Callum’s ass was at the top of that list. He had on a green thong and black chaps. I didn’t know if they were real leather or fake from here but I wanted to know. He’d worn them last week, too, and I’d wanted to know then as well.

  Trying not to stare at him was getting me nowhere. I simply wanted him too much. A man I didn’t know anything about, or even if Callum was his real name. I couldn’t stop tipping him either. It was a good thing that my honey harvest had been so good last fall because I wasn’t used to blowing through money like I was.

  I was going to do even more tonight. I’d turned him down for a private dance before, but tonight I was ready. I’d paid off my bills for the month and I knew how much I could afford. I wasn’t cheap, but I wasn’t rich either and I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t know what he was worth. I wanted him. Badly.

  When his set ended and he came around this time, he stopped at my table just as before.

  “Having fun?” he asked me.

  I nodded. His accent was there, though only slight, and it could have been completely my imagination. “Can I have a dance tonight?” My voice wasn’t nearly as strong as his was, but I was just glad that I’d managed to get the words out at all really. I was nervous, and maybe even a little worried that he’d reject me, but I was mostly excited, especially when he smiled at me and offered me his hand.

  “I was going to ask you if you wanted one,” he said when I slipped my fingers over his palm.

  His skin was softer than mine. I used long gloves whenever I worked with the hives, but I still had callouses. I loved the work though. Even down to the sanding of the hives when I finished building them. I didn’t use an electric sander. I liked the feel of the paper under my fingers.

  Callum led me into the back, to a circular table with thickly padded chairs around it. I sat down heavily and stared up at him. I wanted to touch him, but I knew I couldn’t. Not unless he invited me to. And so far, he’d never once done that, despite taking my hand just now. I gave him three hundred in twenties. I didn’t know how much a dance was. He’d probably told me, once, but I couldn’t remember now. I couldn’t remember much of anything. Not when he started dancing in front of me. Or when he licked his lips as he went low over my thighs.

  I could still hear the music. The fast beat had turned into something more moderate. He swayed to it as he rubbed himself over me. My breath came in short, hurried gasps even as I tried to control my breathing. I wanted to be slower. I wanted to look like I’d had private dances before. But here I was, barely in control of myself, and just glad I was able to keep my hands at my sides.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  I looked up at him and saw him smiling at me again. Maybe he smiled at e
veryone but with just the two of us there, it was easy for me to pretend his smile was just for me. And just because he missed me or just because he wanted me there.

  “Dillon Cayla,” I said, gulping loudly as he laid his hands over my hips.

  Callum came in close to me, close enough that I felt his warm breath against my throat and the scent of his vanilla shampoo reached my nose. “What do you do, Dillon?”

  “Beekeeper,” I blurted out. Thinking was hard enough. Talking was nearly impossible. I hadn’t realized that we would be having a conversation here.

  “I haven’t heard that one before.”

  I nodded. Words were hard to come up with. I was being good about not touching him. My hands at least were under my control. But I kept glancing at his muscular chest and the fine hairs that lay scattered over it and the thin trail going down his stomach and I licked my lips. My tongue was not under my control and my fantasies were fresh in my mind.

  Callum put his hands on the tops of my thighs, brushing his fingers over my jeans. My cheeks were hot. I knew I was blushing. I loved having him to myself and I wanted so much more than that from him. More than just a dance. More than a simple touch.

  “Is Callum your real name?” I didn’t know if it was something that was okay to ask. I didn’t even know if it mattered. In my fantasies I didn’t really say his name. I generally didn’t say anything.

  He dragged his lips over my jaw, making my breath catch as I froze beneath him. It was the first time a guy had ever put their mouth on me, and I was struggling to figure out a way to process it. What was probably just a simple touch for him, a way to treat me well as a patron of Gents, had been a really big deal for me. My breathing still hadn’t gone back to normal even as he trailed his fingers over my stomach. I had my shirt on, but I still felt every bit of his touch, right down to the heat of his fingertips.

  “A lot of the guys here use stage names. I do too, in a way. While Callum is my real name, no one actually calls me that when I’m not working here. Outside of Gents I’m just Cal.” He pulled away from me, but he kissed my cheek as he did so. “You seem really nervous. Boyfriend at home waiting for you? I’m not judging.”

  I shook my head and wished that I could shake my obvious worry and nervousness away, too. “Just, first time getting a dance.” I wanted to be cool and under control, like I was with my bees. I could easily box up a swarm and transport them just fine without any worries at all, but just a few minutes of Callum dancing in front of me, brushing his body against mine, and I was just a big stiff bundle of nerves. I didn’t like that I was, and I wanted to change it, but it wasn’t as if I could really help my reaction to him at all.

  “What days do you work?” I mumbled. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted him to keep touching me. The warmth of him was overwhelming. I never wanted his slow seduction to stop.

  “Mondays and Saturdays.”

  I was instantly relieved. I could keep doing game night with my family and still see him. It just wouldn’t be on Saturdays anymore. I breathed deeply. Whatever cologne he was using, it was sweet, and it was only faintly covered up by his sweat.

  “Did you want anything more than a dance?” he asked.

  My breath caught. I didn’t know what to say. So I simply shook my head. I wasn’t ready for anything more. I was barely ready for this lap dance. My heart was beating too fast and my palms were too sweaty. I was barely holding it together as it was.

  “You sure? You paid a lot for just one dance.”

  “I’m sure,” I mumbled.

  He looked at once relieved but also maybe a little disappointed. Or was it that he thought I wasn’t interested in more than this?

  “First dance jitters normally go away pretty fast. Next time you’ll have to get two of us together for a dance.”

  The idea of having Cal and someone else didn’t really do anything for me. I was sure that a lot of guys would have loved to have two really good-looking guys rubbing against them but for me I was good with just Cal.

  I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t interested in any more dances from him though, because I definitely was, so I simply said, “Maybe,” and hoped that would be enough.

  He stepped back from me and kissed my cheek again. “Dance is over,” he calmly said, apparently all business again, despite that I probably now smelled like him and that he was mostly naked. It was a good reminder for me though, one that I’d needed.

  He was at work. I’d paid him for some entertainment.

  Getting a lap dance from him was different than my fantasies, but I didn’t regret it. I’d needed the reality of what he’d given me as opposed to what I’d been wanting. I craved him and I wanted more from him, but he wasn’t available for me in that way.

  “Thanks. I had fun.” I was being honest. I had enjoyed it. I knew what he smelled like now. I knew what it felt like to have his lips against my skin.

  Cal laughed a little. “I did, too.” He offered me his hand and I took it, letting him help me up. Then we were back to the main area where he left me. I didn’t wait long to leave after that. I’d had Cal to myself. I didn’t need to stay there and watch him dance for everyone else after seeing him there just for me.

  Chapter Two

  Cal

  Little Dillon the Beekeeper. At least I knew what to call him in my head now. I wasn’t surprised that he left right after the dance. He had looked uncomfortable since the first moment I’d seen him come in months before. He didn’t stare, he didn’t try to grab anyone, and he didn’t play with himself under the tables either. But he did look out of place in Gents. Oh, he definitely looked interested enough, but it took more than that for a guy to look like they actually belonged in a gay strip club.

  At the end of my shift I showered and changed, just like always. I tossed my work clothes into a bag to be washed as soon as I got home and I put my jeans and a comfortable, nearly worn out t-shirt back on. My boots were falling apart too. I could afford to replace them if I wanted to, which I didn’t. They were comfortable. There was no reason to get rid of them just because they looked a little worse for wear.

  I drove a sleeper—a car that looked like any of a million standard issue boring sedans on the outside, but on the inside, she was all power. I blended in well with traffic and I didn’t set off alarm bells with cops. If I was a bank robber, I would have wanted my car. But I just liked how she drove when I got her out in the open and away from the traffic of Springfield.

  I didn’t live far. Seymour was only about half an hour from Springfield on a good night and since I was driving home at three, there was hardly anyone around. Not even any Amish at the McDonalds. I lived in a pretty basic little house. It was cheaper than I could have found in Springfield, and I had a yard that would have been big enough for a dog or two, if I had any.

  The lights were still on when I drove up, and Travis’s truck was in the driveway. I’d sort of expected my ex to have found a place of his own by now, since we’d broken up almost four months ago, but there he was. At the very least he could have gone on a date or something.

  It was Saturday night. I’d expected him to have started dating someone by now. Maybe even whoever he’d cheated on me with.

  It didn’t bode well that he was still awake as I came in. Or that his eyes were red, and his cheeks were wet. He’d obviously been crying. As much as I cared about him, and I still did, part of me didn’t want to be the person that wiped away his tears anymore. Part of me didn’t want Travis’s happiness or misery to be my responsibility any longer. Maybe that made me an ass. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure right then. All I knew for certain was that I wanted to get some sleep and I couldn’t really do that if Travis was a wreck right then.

  “How was work?” His voice was strong, and maybe he really did want to know, but we’d broken up in part because of my job.

  “You don’t actually want to know that. Is there something you needed? It’s late and I’m tired.”


  He’d been sitting on the couch. My couch actually. I’d bought it when I’d thought he was going to move out right away. It was a dark purple color, something Travis would have never approved of. And recently he’d been lounging on it all the time. I was annoyed, and exhausted, and right at that moment I wanted to ban him from it. But that wouldn’t have been very mature of me.

  He got up and came to me. I allowed his hug. We were trying to be friends and I did hug my friends. But when he tried to kiss me, I pulled away. I put my hand over his mouth too. I didn’t know who he’d cheated on me with. But I had imagined it plenty of times, and now even the idea of his mouth anywhere on me was enough to twist my stomach.

  I stepped out of his arms. It felt good to be away from him. I’d barely been able to handle his hug. Why he’d thought that a kiss would be a good idea was beyond me. “Travis? Did you need something or what?”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair. It was telling that he was still in his jeans. He hadn’t even tried to go to sleep yet. He’d probably waited up all night just to talk to me. “I’m trying to be friends here. But your job...”

  “It isn’t going away.” I was adamant about that. And it definitely wasn’t going away for him. I loved what I did. And I loved the money, too. “And it put you through getting your MBA so why you have such a problem with it is beyond me.”

  He blanched. It was a low blow and I knew it. “I can start making payments...” he offered.

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want your money. I loved you when I paid for your degree.” I made sure to say loved instead of saying something softer like I did love him, and I wanted him to be happy because while I did still love him, it wasn’t the same kind of love that it had been four months ago when I’d thought that I was the only one he was ever in bed with.