Page 24 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Josh stared at the ceiling in the extra room of the renovated stables, fingers laced under his head. It wasn’t that he was waiting for Jordan to get home, to occupy the empty space with her citrusy scent, to see how she was doing. He was just having a hard time falling asleep.

Yeah. That was it.

He had helped Barb clean up after the spectacular disaster of the party, keeping his eye on Jordan.

She had been surrounded by her friends and Mrs. McGraw.

When that guy had delivered his subpoena sucker-punch, Josh had been ready to take him down.

Jordan had been brilliant, though, meting out a verbal thrashing that swayed her audience back to her side.

Probably better than Josh beating the crap out of the guy.

Brandi had delivered her own brand of justice after Blake had returned to her side with a smug smile on his smarmy face.

That had concluded with him wearing the better part of the chocolate from the fountain.

Josh had silently followed the asshole out of the library to make sure he got into his car and left.

By the time Josh had finished clearing the food and packing everything away, Jordan was already gone.

He had sent her a text to ask if she was okay, but she hadn’t answered.

He had given Zach a call on the way to the Hall, checking in to make sure he was still okay spending the night at his friend’s.

His brother had seemed more eager to get off the phone than chat.

Now it neared midnight, and he fought with the hollowness inside him.

He had to be up in less than six hours to prep breakfast and the anniversary lunch, but there were too many thoughts battling in his brain. TV held zero appeal and he didn’t have a book to read. He wasn’t going to be able sleep until Jordan came through those stable doors.

But he could cook.

He grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then entered the cooling air in the yard between the stables and the Hall. He unlocked the back door of Fountenoy Hall and snuck into the kitchen. The lights were already on.

Jordan sat at the island, still wearing the blue dress.

A bag of ice rested over her wrist, and a bottle of ibuprofen sat in front of her next to a mason jar with half an inch of whiskey and a paper plate covered in little white crumbs.

The blasted manila envelope lay near her arm, and her phone was face down and out of her reach.

The bravado he witnessed on the library stage was gone.

She raised her head when he came in, her eyes listless behind her glasses, her face devoid of emotion.

A surge of protectiveness rose up in him at the trust she showed, letting him see her like this.

He ached to hold her, to shield her from anything bad.

“Hi.” He grasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for her, though he longed to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. “Where are Wendy and Brandi?”

“They fed me whiskey and popcorn, and then I told them good night. They have to get up early. Brandi felt guilty for bringing Blake, but it wasn’t her fault.” She slumped back in her seat. “He used her to get an invitation to the party. Asshole.”

“It wasn’t your fault, either. But you handled it well.”

“We all know how much that matters in politics. There’s already a clip of it online.

” She slapped the envelope and smiled, a thin line of lips devoid of humor.

“And it was so stupid. He didn’t need that big production.

All the lawyer had to do was call my lawyer.

Blake wanted a spotlight. He had told Brandi earlier in the evening he had something planned to advance his career. What a dick.”

He unclasped his hands and pulled her against his chest before his brain could stop the urge. Her warm body melted against his. Her wounded wrist remained on the island, but her other hand clutched at his t-shirt and held on.

“Yesterday you left me with lame excuses,” she mumbled after a moment. “Today you kiss me and defend me. I don’t get you.”

Her words tugged at his heart. He had tried to keep her away from the mess of his life, but he was selfish. Wanted one thing for himself. He stroked her hair over the pins in her twist, imagining pulling them out one by one. “I’m surprised you’re not mad at me.”

“I’m mad at you for not trusting me with whatever’s holding you back. From me. From us. I shouldn’t have to prove myself to you.” She shifted to glare at him straight on. The smudges of makeup added to the dark circles under her eyes. “So what’s the deal?”

Josh had to tell her something or lose her forever. He swallowed. “You deserve someone better than me.”

There. He said it. The kitchen hummed with the words and the air compressed around him. Jordan did nothing but stare at him, her beautiful brown eyes unblinking.

“And?”

And? What did that mean? He wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans and stood up, filled with restless energy. “You’re smart and have so much to offer this world, Jay. I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” The air electrified between them and Josh needed to step away. His mind might be jumbled, but baking would straighten him out. He went into the pantry and came back out with the flour and baking soda.

Her eyebrows raised, and she pushed the envelope away from her. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said. Measuring cups joined the dry goods on the counter, then sugar, cocoa, and vanilla extract.

“We’re not done with this conversation, but I must say you are good at distraction.” She sat up straighter.

Next came the eggs out of the fridge. He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes as if assessing her abilities. “Can you crack?”

“If you cover my brace.” Jordan held up her wrist.

He went into the butler’s pantry and found the box of latex gloves, then covered Jordan’s wrist.

“How many?”

He had enough dry ingredients for two batches. “Six.”

He measured the flour while she cracked the first egg. “I can’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“Do you want me to throw this at you?” She held up an egg. “Come on, Josh. Don’t you want to be with me?”

He couldn’t lose what he never had. “It’s not—”

“ Oy vey , if you say it’s not about me, I will dump these on your head.” She cracked the last one with a resounding thwack against the bowl, then slid off the gloves. She sidled up next to him, desire clear in her eyes. Her tongue snuck out and moistened her lips. “Make it about me.”

How could he resist that invitation? He lowered his head, desire burning through him, and devoured her mouth. He put his hands around her waist and pulled her against his body.

She sighed and molded herself to him. “Just like this.”

He blocked out everything but the feeling of her. He’d try. For her, he’d try and open himself, to expose her to parts of his past.

“Jordan.” He shifted his attention to her neck and she tilted her head to give him better access. “Damn, you feel so good.”

She drew in a ragged breath and shifted her mouth back to his. After another searing kiss, she gave him a gentle nip on his lips and stepped away. “I’d say you know how I want to be treated.”

His heart thudded in his chest and he took a shaky breath.

Intense swells of tenderness and affection rolled around his body, fighting with the fear and apprehension.

All he wanted to do was hold this woman until the morning sun broke into the sky.

How could he expect her to give him anything when he had nothing to give?

“And right now,” she said. “I want to be treated to whatever you’re baking.”

That he could do. “As you wish.”

He poured half the eggs into the flour mixture, then mixed it by hand. The soothing, repeated motion helped put his head back on straight.

A shot of Belle’s peach whiskey would finish the job. He grabbed the orange bottle from the counter and poured a shot, then held it over Jordan’s half-empty glass.

“Ugh, no more for me tonight.” She grimaced and nudged her glasses up. “I’ve already drowned my sorrows. Put it in the cupcakes.”

“More proof of your brilliance.” He raised the glass in a toast and tossed it in. Maple syrup would balance its bite with sweetness.

He went into the pantry to get some. First, he took out his phone. It was easier to say what was in his mind through a text. I was an ass yesterday.

Her phone made a buzzing sound and her groan echoed around the pantry. “Who the hell is texting me at eleven fucking thirty? I don’t know if I have the energy to deal any more tonight. I haven’t even opened the envelope yet.”

“Didn’t your lawyer know what was happening?” Josh reentered the kitchen and measured out the syrup.

“I spoke to him earlier and he said this request was coming. I stupidly and purposefully left my phone at home so I could be with Mrs. McGraw without distraction. He had called me several times tonight.” She sighed and grabbed her phone.

“Just when everything was finally going on the right track. It didn’t have to be so damn dramatic.

One call and I would have been on a plane back home.

It’s what I’ve been waiting for, anyway. ”

He poured the batter into a muffin tray, keeping his eye on her reaction to the text. She gave a little snort, and her fingers got busy.

His phone dinged as he popped the cupcakes into the oven.

Yesterday? ;)

“Hey,” he mock protested.

She opened her eyes wide and blinked. “What?”

He grinned at her, his heart rate ratcheting up a few knots when she grinned back. He would never get tired of her smile.

She eyed the envelope and tapped it with her brace. “I suppose I should look at this.”

“Need help?”

“I got it.” She tucked it under her arm and wrested it open. The papers slid onto the island.