Page 11 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Well, hell, it had been torture without her, too. “Tell Brandi I’ll take that job.”

***

Birds chirping in the pre-dawn darkness over the steady thrum of Josh’s alarm broke the silence of the peaceful morning, their pleasant song greeting anyone who was awake. And he wanted to muzzle, gag, overfeed, or trap every last one of them.

Five o’clock was way too freakin’ early. He jabbed at the phone’s Stop button, then caught a glimpse of a text message.

The dry cleaning bill was $1million.

A chuckle snuck out of his mouth. Waking up to a text from Jordan. Suddenly the birdsong didn’t seem too bad.

Lucy had volunteered to make sure Zach was awake and ready for school on time.

The twenty-five or so hours a week Josh would work for Wendy and Brandi meant he had the afternoons free to find a new position somewhere else.

But the early mornings meant hell when he catered an evening event with Barb.

That was okay. It was a job. More than that, it was a job he would have taken immediately if it hadn’t been temporary.

He stole around the apartment as he got ready, keeping quiet so he didn’t wake his brother. As he was leaving, he stepped on something small and unexpected by the front door. Two rectangular pieces of plastic lay under his foot. He picked them up and swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

Someone had shoved gas cards under his door.

Which he was going to use after waking everyone up when his old car rumbled to life in the parking lot. At least, those who weren’t already awake and annoyed at the damn birds.

The forty-minute drive to Claremont was easy that early in the morning.

Once he turned onto the Fountenoy Hall land, he continued for three-quarters of a mile down the scenic drive bordered by magnolia trees and live oaks and ending at the circular drive.

The rec room stood to the left of the main building, and Josh continued around to the right to park behind the Inn, per Ms. Eulalee’s instructions.

He’d driven out there a few days ago to sign paperwork and get a tour.

Wendy he had recognized from college and her many trips to Essie’s, and he met Wendy’s boyfriend.

He hadn’t seen Jordan.

Would Jordan be awake and in the kitchen? It didn’t matter. At least, it shouldn’t. But the anticipation of seeing her again squeezed his gut.

Ms. Eulalee was already bustling in the kitchen when he knocked on and opened the back door. The sun was just peeking into the room, but her cheerful smile and checkered apron brightened the space. “Josh, I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here.”

“I’m happy to be here.” And he meant it.

He put his grey backpack out of the way at the base of the old servants staircase.

The large kitchen was quaint but ideal for preparing dinners for happy couples on vacation and breakfasts for lazy mornings.

Eggs sizzled on the six-burner flat top stove and gleaming silver pans for the food warmers were lined up on the counter.

The scent of savory ham wafted up from the oven.

It sure as hell beat cooking on the one burner that still worked in his apartment.

The only thing missing was Jordan.

Josh gestured to the eggs. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one cooking?”

“Thought I’d go easy on you your first day.

” She waved him to the hand sink. “Wash up, and let’s get going.

We have eight guests today. We cook whatever we want as long as there’s at least a protein, a carb, fruit, something dessert-like and a dish with peaches, whether a chutney or grilled or whatever you want.

A set menu that one person can cook. The guests let us know when they check in if there are dietary restrictions. ”

Josh pulled his old University of Georgia ballcap out of his bag as a head covering and grabbed a solid white apron from near the butler’s pantry. Funny how he cringed when he put on the green one from Essie’s. Here, it was part of the kitchen, not a costume he donned when he clocked in.

“Here’s the tough part.” Eulalee handed him an index card with directions for peach fritters scrawled on it.

“We only have a week before I leave, so I’m throwin’ you into the deep end.

Barb said you were good at adapting. Fountenoy Hall recipes were never put in writing, so I’ve been scribbling them down as I make the dishes.

They were always passed down from Clayton to Clayton.

Since Wendy can burn water and Brandi only makes one dish, you and Anthon are all I have to make sure the past stays in the present. ”

Anthon must be the chef who helped for the dinner service. Josh found the cast-iron pan as he scanned the ingredients for the fritters. Flour, salt, baking powder, all the things he expected to see. Except… “Ms. Eulalee?”

“Yes, honey?”

“You left out the peaches.”

Ms. Eulalee gave him a wide-eyed stare before barking out a laugh. “Three fresh for each batch, cut into cubes. We have very few left from the orchard, so we won’t be able to make them soon. You can use the ones we’ve canned, but it won’t taste the same.”

Josh made a note on the card and got down to work. A rhythm soon settled over him and his body moved with the familiar choreography of working in a kitchen. Even when the daily produce was delivered, their culinary dance never missed a step.

And then there she was.

Jordan must have crept in when Eulalee was saying goodbye to the produce deliverer and his assistant because her citrus scent suddenly filled his senses.

She peered into his frying pan at the fritters. “Mmmm, delicious.”

So was she. Her hair was pulled up in one of those messy buns, leaving soft tendrils framing the creamy skin of her face, which was scrubbed clean of makeup.

Khaki pants and a pink top that grazed her curves completed her fresh outfit.

Her strawberry lips curved into a smile, and he wanted to sample the hot summer taste of her.

Instead, he gave her a nod and poured the vanilla for the French toast. “They’ll be ready soon.”

She brushed by him, and his skin tingled with pure awareness of her. “I need to get the serving plates ready.”

What he needed was for her to stay away before he lost focus and burnt the nearly-done fritters.

“Jordan is our doer of everything,” Ms. Eulalee said. “I don’t know how we would have managed without her.”

“Thank you, Aunt Eulalee.” Jordan gave the older woman a quick hug, then reached for the cabinet. “I’m glad you said yes to Brandi, Josh. I couldn’t imagine you staying in a job like that.”

A cold trickle slid down his back, and he pressed his lips together to keep from frowning.

“And here I thought you were visiting me in the kitchen to give me support on my first day, not to give me reminder about your dry cleaning bill.” He got a serving tray out of the butler’s pantry. “You’ll have to make do with an IOU.”

“I only meant that your manager didn’t treat you with any respect.”

Oh. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Give me one of those instead and we’ll call it even.” She pointed to the fritters.

He scooped one out of the cast-iron pan, then slid it on the plate. Jordan grabbed it and scurried to the other side of the island as if she was afraid he’d snatch it back, and plopped herself on one of the stools. “This smells amazing.”

Josh finished removing the rest of the fritters from the pan, standing sideways to keep Jordan in view. She carefully cut a piece of the fritter and inhaled deeply before putting it in her mouth. Her eyes closed behind the lens of her glasses and she breathed out. “Mmmmmm.”

His dick responded faster than his brain. She sounded exactly the same as when he had stroked and caressed her that night eight long years ago. That deep, sensuous hum of pleasure that had turned into moans and then cries of release.

He turned back to the stove so she couldn’t see evidence of his memories. “So it has the Shoenover seal of approval?”

“Oh, yeah.”

God, she even had that sexy tremor in her voice. The torture didn’t end.

Jordan took out her phone, still making little noises of enjoyment.

Within the hour, all the fritters were finished, the biscuits baked in a different cast iron skillet, eggs and ham cooked to perfection, and the French toast keeping warm in the oven. Wendy and Rob came down and began prepping coffee and sorting out silverware for their guests.

“What are you doing awake?” Wendy asked Jordan, who was still at the island.

“Not sleeping.” Her tone bordered on challenging.

Wendy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue it. “I’m surprised the Hales are in the dining room already. After they had their complimentary peach whiskey last night, they purchased a bottle and turned the drinks hour into a party.”

“We better make more coffee,” Ms. Eulalee instructed. “And start plating the fritters.”

Wendy headed to the coffee urn, and Josh arranged the fritters in scattered rows on the serving tray, then accented the dish with neatly-cut strawberries. Wendy grabbed it when he was done.

“Holy cow, these look amazing.” She inhaled deeply. “And smell even better.”

He nodded his thanks, inwardly preening.

Wendy and Rob shuttled between the kitchen and the dining room. Josh envied the casual intimacy between them – Rob’s hand low on her back, her stealing a drink from his coffee, the kiss on the forehead when they passed each other in the room.

“Anthon will be here soon,” Ms. Eulalee said. “I think it would be good for you two to meet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s an acquired taste, but the two of you should get along just fine.”

Great.

“Plus we’d like you to stick around for the staff meeting after breakfast every day, if that’s possible.”

“No problem.” He had nowhere else to be.

Jordan had taken out her laptop and worked at the island, tapping on the keyboard and going through a stack of papers. Having her around meant he could sneak a glance at her instead of resorting to staking out her social media when loneliness panged in his chest.

He and Eulalee spent the next hour keeping up the supply of eggs and French toast as she talked him through an average day.

Dinner menus were created that day, using whatever meat they felt like cooking and any produce Mac and Duarte brought.

Josh had helped Barb create menus for her clients, but that had been from a premade list. Preparing a spontaneous meal, even using Eulalee’s recipe cards, meant he got to exercise the creative part of him that he’d forced down the past few years.

Though he was in charge of the breakfast service, he’d be the one deciding the evening menu based on the supplies, so he could do the prep before leaving for the day.

And adding that bullet point onto his resume wouldn’t hurt, either.

The sun had risen to the top of the window, reflecting on the checkered walls, when the back door opened.

A man strode into the room and put his hands on his hips as if waiting for cries of happiness or swooning from his non-existent fan club.

He wore a toque on his short hair and a spotless white chef jacket which contrasted with his dark skin. This must be the infamous Anthon.

Clothes didn’t matter. Anyone could buy that stuff from a uniform shop. But Anthon’s hands told a different story. Clean with short, stubby nails, various cuts and marred skin. Even though his jacket was an unstained marshmallow, his hands gave him the props Josh was looking for.

“I am Anthon,” he announced. He kept his chin high and squinted down his nose at Josh.

“I am Josh,” he said in the same tone. He continued cutting vegetables, doing the work for dinner that didn’t have to be done during dinner service.

“And I am leaving.” Jordan gathered her papers into a neat stack, then caught Josh’s eye and gave him a brief smile before heading out the back door. He watched her until the door clicked closed.

“Nice hat.” Anthon adjusted his tall chef’s hat as if to imply Josh’s choice of head covering made him an imposter.

“Thanks for coming early,” Eulalee said to the new arrival. “You boys don’t know how relieved I am that you can take over while I’m gone. This is how I’m hopin’ things will work while I’m gone.”

She ran through some of Fountenoy Hall’s more difficult dishes with the two of them.

Working with her during breakfast today had been fun.

Uplifting. Being with Anthon, however, was a different story.

The man never let an opportunity pass where he didn’t mention he went to the Culinary Institute of America.

Josh had been tempted to brag about the graduate program at Bargain Kitchen University, but instead kept quiet about his own lack of formal training.

But there was no class in the world to prepare either one of them to match the natural ease and efficiency in which Ms. Eulalee commanded her kitchen.

She gestured to the food they had prepared.

“Eat up, gentlemen, if you’re hungry. I’m fixin’ to put my feet up for a bit before the staff meeting.

Feel free to take home anything you want.

And not only today. We want you well-fed and happy.

” She patted her thicker middle. “Skinny cooks don’t garner much faith in these parts. ”

Both men nodded, and Josh’s stomach gurgled in agreement.

“One more thing. I want harmony in my kitchen.” Eulalee put her hands on her hips and stared at them both. “When I’m here, I’m the boss. When I’m not here, Wendy and Brandi are the bosses. Neither one of you is in charge of the other.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Josh answered. Anthon nodded once.

“Good then.”

Once the older woman left the kitchen, Anthon strode out the back door. And Josh was alone for the first time since he got out of his car almost four hours ago.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the silence. Being alone was a rare commodity.

After a deep breath and another reminder from his belly, he glanced around the kitchen.

Leftover food would ease a little of his financial burden.

Pride demanded he eat breakfast only and not take anything home for Zach, but he’d learned to tell his pride to fuck off.

Working for George had been proof of that.

He got a baggie from the pantry and slid over to a plate of uneaten biscuits.