Page 22 of Sweeter Than Honey
“Yeah. And a few acres of organic vegetables and salad greens.”
“I guess that says a lot about your personality, huh? Nothing else can stand to be around you but a swarm of insects that’ll sting the shit out of you when you get sassy.”
He shook his head with a small smile. “Something like that. Anyway—”
“Can I see them? I might need a pointer or two on how to put up with you.”
Jett arched a brow. “Apointeror two? Clever. And no.”
She pulled back. “Really? Why not?”
He was itching to get out of this bedroom. They were standing too close. She smelled too fucking good. And the huge bed behind her was making him think about a lot of things.
“The sound of your voice will irritate them.”
She crossed her arms and look genuinely offended.
“What I mean is, they’re accustomed to certain tones and frequencies. They only know my voice and certain songs. Strange vocals could disrupt their routine.”
She arched a brow in amusement, but didn’t ask him to elaborate on his bees’ musical tastes.
His gaze strayed to the bed. It wouldn't take anything to toss her on it and see if her skin tasted sweet like her scent. He took another step back.
“What if I don’t talk?”
“Yeah, right. Last word, remember?”
“No, I don—” She sighed in defeat.
He smiled. “Fine. But once we reach the hives, whisper.”
She followed him back down and out of the house, taking a deep breath as she fell into step beside him. "The air feels cleaner here.”
They walked the path between a row of trees to a clearing where the beehives
were neatly stacked in three rows. They came in a multitude of solid colors: pink, white, blue, yellow. Even though they were still several yards away, a soft hum filled the air.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Don’t you need a bee suit or something?”
“No. I’m not collecting honey right now, just checking on the hives and changing up their music. You should stay here. Don’t want to risk you getting stung.”
Taking out his phone, he pulled up the app to control his outdoor speakers and picked a classical piece by Bach. The melody filled the air.
Cara’s mouth dropped open. "Do I hear Bach's cello suite playing or am I hallucinating?"
“Classical keeps them calm and less stressed. There’s a storm front coming in and the air pressure can stress them.”
Her voice was a low hush. “They really don’t sting you?”
“Honeybees are misunderstood. Feared because they have bastard cousins like wasps and murder hornets to give them a bad name. They only sting when they feel threatened. I do everything I can to never make them feel that way. They work with me, and I work with them. Maybe they can sense my inner bear and figure I won’t destroy their home if they give up their honey nice and quiet like."
There was that smile again.
“Okay, no talking and stay here.”
He’d only gone halfway down the first row when his sensitive hearing picked up Cara’s low groan. Looking over his shoulder, he spied her cross her arms over her middle and slightly doubled over.
He hurried back to her. "What is it?”
