Page 31 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Josh paced his apartment, waiting for Zach to get home. Barb would be there to pick him up in a little more than an hour, and Josh had planned on talking to his brother before he left. But he couldn’t do that if Zach wasn’t there.

Now half an hour.

The sound of thudding footsteps on the stairs had Josh wiping the sweat off his palms before adopting a casual pose at the kitchen table.

“Hey,” he said when his brother walked in.

Zach gave him a half-nod and swung into his room.

“I was hoping we could talk,” Josh said. He glanced at his watch.

Zach sighed and put down his backpack. “What?”

Crap. He had five minutes. The talk would have to wait. “I wanted to check in with you.”

“Fine. You’ve checked.” Zach rolled his eyes and tromped into his room.

Damn, that did not go well. What had he expected?

Barb must have noticed something off with him on the drive to the job, since she allowed him to stay in the kitchen with her instead of circulating food.

She didn’t pry, for which Josh was thankful.

He had poked his head into the party and had recognized a baker from a few months ago, and pulled himself back into the kitchen before she saw him.

The highlight of his night was a quick text from Jordan saying she was back at the Inn but ready for bed.

Zach was either sleeping when he got home and when he left for work the next morning, or he was going for the Oscar. Maybe they’d be able to talk after Sunday dinner that night.

Josh rubbed at his constricting chest, pushing down the shame that welled up in him at the hope that the evening would be too busy for them to talk, or that Zach would have homework. When Fountenoy Hall came into view, he suppressed it.

Biscuits and sausage gravy were on the menu, along with the normal eggs and peach dish.

Ms. Eulalee’s recipe for gravy always knocked it out of the park.

Josh measured out the flour and shortening, uncomfortable in the uncharacteristic quiet.

It gave him too much time alone with his own mind, replaying the last day with Zach and his silence.

Usually one of the cousins would be down by now. Brandi would chat about her evening, or Wendy would study the schedule and make notes on the menu. Maybe they had stayed up too late, toasting Jordan’s return with Belle’s Medicinal whiskey.

Brandi came down as he finished with the biscuits. Other than a nod and a mumbled good morning, she was strangely silent. She poured her coffee facing the counter, keeping Josh at her back.

“Everything’s ready for you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He stepped out of the way so she could get to the oven.

Her eyes never rose above his chin, and she hightailed it to the dining room as soon as she had the pan of eggs steady.

He placed the rest of breakfast on the counter, but when she came back, she avoided him by going for her coffee instead of the dishes waiting for her.

“Are you all right?” Josh asked.

“Just fine.” She grabbed the gravy and scurried out of the kitchen.

Well, okay. He’d find out what was going on soon enough. Right now, dirty dishes awaited.

The back door opened while Josh was elbow deep in the wash sink. He looked up and was blinded by the ray of sunshine. Jordan slipped into the kitchen, radiant in a sunflower skirt and yellow top, her bright smile kicking his heartrate up a notch.

“Hey, you.” She ducked under his arm and stood between him and the large sink. She held his face in her hands, her touch sending a simmering need through his body.

“I’m going to get you wet,” Josh said, shaking off his hands.

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it.” Her lips touched his, demanding and greedy and a little bit wild. He groaned, aching to wrap his arms around her, drag her back to her room and hike up her skirt. Maybe not in that order.

Her hands caressed his back, pressing him closer to her. He paused, then took a step back and blinked at her bare arm. “Hey, no more brace.”

“Mostly better.” She rotated her wrist in a circle to prove it, her other arm still looped around his neck. She gave him a quick kiss. “I’m going back to the stables, but come by later. You know, if you can.” She waved her fingers, then disappeared out the back door.

Ouch. He scrubbed the dish hard, eager to finish. Not that he was eager to talk, though. Something behind him tapped in a steady rhythm, and he turned to find the source. Wendy sat at the island, a pencil bouncing from her fingers.

She stilled her hand when she saw him watching. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in.” Was it time for the staff meeting? Where was everyone else?

He put the last pan into the sanitizing sink and dried his hands.

Wendy remained at the island, her expression grim. “Got a few minutes to talk?”

That didn’t sound good. “Sure.” He flung the towel over his shoulder and took a seat next to her.

The pencil tapped again. “I want to preface this by saying your work has been exemplary. Even when you were late with breakfast, it was still pretty damn delicious. Don’t tell my aunt, but I think I like your biscuits better than hers.”

“Thank you.” Josh stilled, waiting for the but .

“But yesterday.” Her green eyes locked with his.

“Yesterday, Josh, we had a specific menu for the Junior League. They’ve been coming to our restaurant for their events for years.

They know the menu. They know we’ll cook around their food allergies and nutritional needs.

It’s a traditional event, one we want to keep going.

They were expecting old favorites. Comfort foods. Something trusted and familiar.”

Josh nodded. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something definitely happened.” She cleared her throat. “I know you create dishes when you work with Barb, and you have some leeway to do that here, too. But Aunt Eulalee told you specifically which of her recipes you needed to precisely follow and which you could embellish.”

“Yes.” He had followed every ingredient, every measurement, down to the last letter.

“They asked for southern, but they got New York cuisine. Wine sauce with the tomatoes and okra? Who does that? And if you were going to cook with alcohol, you should have made it the house whiskey. And the macaroni and cheese with truffle oil and shaved Parmesan?” Her mouth crooked into a rueful smile.

“I tried that, actually. Very tasty, but not what had been agreed upon.”

Truffle oil? Shaved cheese? “The recipe calls for cheddar. Basic, normal cheddar.”

“Exactly. And yet, there it was.” Her tapping pencil picked up its pace. “And the meatloaf gravy had four different types of mushrooms. I didn’t even know there were four different types of mushrooms.”

He hadn’t made the damn gravy. “That wasn’t part of my prep. You know that, you did the scheduling.”

“I know. Anthon did not escape this conversation either.” She took a deep breath. “I also know that what should have been an afternoon of celebration and camaraderie turned into three hours of Benadryl and a whole lot of yelling.”

Son of a bitch. All the times in the past eight years when he had to hold his temper or lose his job flashed through his mind. He clenched his jaw before forcing himself to calm down. “Do you really think I’d sabotage an event like that?”

“I didn’t think anyone here would, but somehow, this disaster still happened.” She gave her ponytail a hard yank.

He pressed his lips together to keep his annoyance in check. He’d never been anything but professional with her, but she could fire him over this. “I don’t boast about a secret agent culinary degree or insult generations of Clayton cooking whenever I take out a recipe card, Wendy.”

“If you didn’t do this, then I’m sorry for needing to have this conversation. But it’s necessary to make sure everyone is on the same page.” Her voice remained calm and sure. “And if it was you, don’t pull anything like that again.”

He took a deep breath. The vote of no confidence shook him more than he cared to admit. “I love working here, Wendy. It’s more than a job.”

It was a family he watched from the outside. Where egos were checked and love and support flowed freely. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

She stared at him for a long while, then gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll see you in the kitchen tomorrow.”

It was a statement, but it deserved an answer. “I’ll be there.”

She nodded, slid off the stool and posted the evening menu on the door, and left him alone with thoughts of skewering and frying in hot oil. And not necessarily the food.

When he had sufficiently calmed down, he picked up his backpack, and headed to the stables.

Jordan hugged him with her whole body when he walked in, as if she’d anticipated this moment. He dropped his pack, grateful she didn’t want to talk. Holding the vibrant woman in his arms after years of imagining it was a balm for his soul.

Finally he stepped back from the embrace and smoothed her hair away from her face. “Did you know?”

She didn’t pretend to not understand. “I suspected after I overheard Wendy’s conversation with Anthon last night. And she had asked us to leave the room to her after breakfast. Of course it wasn’t you.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deep, letting her scent overtake the breakfast smells that lingered on his clothes. Her unquestioning belief in him was a drug that gave him a rush of euphoria, leaving him carefree and weightless.

Suddenly nothing else mattered but the woman in his arms. Not his parents, not being reamed out by Wendy, not his shitty life. He let himself be free for one sweet moment where she was the only thing in his world.

“God, I missed you.” He nuzzled her neck, then gently nipped her ear. Her hands curled through his hair, pebbling his skin.

His heart thudded in his chest, echoing around him.

Because he was in love.

Hoo boy.