Page 33 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Jordan sat on one of the recliners in the common room of the stables, trying to concentrate on Mrs. McGraw’s request for information on companies that ran focus groups.

Her body was loose and pliable, warm and clean after a shower.

A soft snore came from her room down the hall and gushy feelings infused her belly. Finally, Josh was where he belonged.

But for how long? Before she had kissed him and took him to bed, she had sensed him pulling away.

Late afternoon light drifted in through the windows, casting a golden glow over the furniture.

Jordan leaned back on the chair and closed her eyes.

It would be easy to imagine quitting her business in Connecticut and have this be her life – working for Mrs. McGraw, helping her friends at the Inn, Josh cooking up new recipes in the kitchen.

Anthon would have to go, of course, but Josh could easily do his job. And they’d live happily ever after.

Shuffling noises sounded from the hallway, and Josh entered the common room. Fully dressed.

Damn. He was leaving.

He confirmed her suspicions when he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I hate to eat and run…”

Jordan stifled a grin and groaned. “You did not just say that.”

A rare smile curved his lips, melting her heart.

“Do you have a catering gig tonight?” She framed his face with her hands, not willing to let him go. “Because if you don’t…” She kissed him.

His lips lingered on hers for a moment, then pulled back. “I would like nothing more than to spend the night with you in my arms, but I can’t. Jordan—”

“Got other plans? I can come along and help. What are you doing?”

He shrugged and turned away from her. “Nothing interesting.”

That one hurt. “So you’d rather do nothing interesting than stay here with me?”

“No.” His lips flattened, but his eyes filled with a desperation that caught her breath. “I have some family issues, that’s all.”

She wracked her memories. Surely he had mentioned a family eight years ago. His mom had remarried a few years previous? Something like that?

And then he picked up his backpack.

“I’m a good listener, Josh.” Hopelessness bloomed in her belly, and she followed him to the door. “Aren’t you getting tired of only seeing me at Fountenoy Hall and texting at night? I want to be with you, Josh. I want more than fleeting moments and sweaty afternoons.”

“It’s not about—”

“Me. I know. You’ve made that clear.” A sudden, horrible realization dawned and she stepped away from him, her stomach curling. “You’re married, aren’t you? Oh, my God, you’re married. I’m the side piece.”

“No. Jordan, no.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “I’m not married.”

“Good.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Then what is it, Josh?”

He didn’t answer. She held his gaze for a moment, then went back to the recliner, humming the Georgia fight song in her head to keep from speaking. She put the final edits on the RFI, then sent it to Luke for approval. The silence stretched between them, but she wasn’t going to speak first.

Josh leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “I know this is a shitty situation.”

She closed her laptop. “I don’t know that, because I don’t know the situation. So tell me. Tell me the situation. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind about you.”

He grimaced at that. “I need more time, Jordan.”

The formality of her full name made her wince. She wanted to start thinking forever, and he was delaying the now. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “You’ve had eight years.”

“Yeah. I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair with a quick, jerky motion, then lightly pounded his fist against the wall and opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She said nothing, only maintained eye contact while he crossed the threshold.

What was he hiding? Why was he running? Now that he tasted her recipe, was he discarding her for the next baker?

He should have the damn balls to break it off instead of leaving things unsaid like he had eight years ago.

Shame on her for expecting something different.

The door closed gently behind him, not hitting him on the ass on his way out.

Jordan put her elbows on her knees and cradled her head, fighting the angry tears burning behind her eyes.

She listened for the familiar roar of his beat-up car.

After a few minutes of silence, she peeked through her window.

Josh sat in the front seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other below the dash.

The distinct, rapid tic tic tic of an engine trying to turn over reached her ears. After a few moments, he slammed both hands on the steering wheel, then rested his forehead on it.

Oh. Whoa.

His shoulders raised and lowered in a deep breath. He exited the car and disappeared into Fountenoy Hall, only to return a short time later to pop the hood of the van and hook up the batteries.

She tried not to pay attention. What happened was his business.

The van’s engine purred, but Josh’s car gave little more than a kitten meow before falling silent. The cursing became louder after he turned off the van’s ignition. She went out the door in time to see him kick his car. Several times.

“Josh!” His name escaped before she could think to hold it back, before the sane part of her brain urged her to leave well enough alone.

He gave one final kick, his chest expanding and falling with short, rapid breaths. When he turned to her, his face was a contorted mix of rage and hopelessness.

A wave of yearning swept up within her and she stepped closer to him. Dang feelings. They wouldn’t turn off or be forced away. She couldn’t tamp down the love she still felt for him.

“I got it.” His voice was rough and he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step away. “I’m going to tell Brandi I’m leaving my car.”

“And then I can take you home.” She wouldn’t be scared away. Take that, Mr. Don’t-Need-Help.

He paused midstride, his mouth creased in annoyance. “It’s too far.”

“No, it’s not.”

He gave her a measured stare before dipping his chin. “Fine.”

Fine. Good. Even if the help was accepted reluctantly.

Jordan returned to the stables to wait.

Josh entered the common room about fifteen minutes later. “Brandi knows a guy who can give me a tow.”

“Okay.” She gestured to the chair next to hers. “You want to sit while you wait?”

He parked himself on a recliner. “Stop being all nice and normal, Jordan. You know you wouldn’t be if I wasn’t here.”

“You’d rather I played mean and bitchy?”

“I’d rather you played you.”

“I did that five minutes ago and you ran out the door. You can’t honestly say you want me to do that again.”

He held her gaze before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “Probably not.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She had prepared to be shut down, but the punch in her gut at his words was unexpected. “You can be a real jerk sometimes, Josh.”

A ghost of a smile crested his lips. “Only sometimes?”

A real frustrating jerk. She turned on her laptop and continued working.

Within minutes, a soft snore sounded from the chair next to hers.

That wasn’t surprising. With his schedule, it was a wonder he got enough rest. The stress in his face melted away while in repose. He wasn’t exactly relaxed, but his burdens didn’t carry over to the unconsciousness of sleep. He looked eight years younger.

Jordan let him be until the tow truck rumbled up the drive, finishing up her work. She shook his shoulder, steeling herself against the treacherous wave of love that swelled within her. “Hey. Josh.”

He shifted slightly but didn’t wake up.

“Josh.” She shook harder.

He blinked awake, gazing at her with heated recognition before the cool facade snapped back into place.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “Brandi’s guy is here.”

“Okay.” He rubbed his face with his hands and stood up. A few seconds later, he was out the door. Jordan grabbed the van keys and her purse, then joined Brandi in watching him and her friend.

Josh and the mechanic were under the hood, muttering to each other about parts and checking fluid levels while Brandi stood next to the Simon’s Towing truck.

Jordan could see the man’s dark blond hair over the collar of his grey coveralls.

At least the early fall temperatures weren’t as suffocating as the summer humidity.

“I love a man who doesn’t mind getting grease under his nails,” Brandi said, raising her voice so the men could hear.

Simon shot her a grin, his teeth bright in his tanned face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“But he better get it all out when he takes me to dinner.”

“No worries about that.” He turned back to Josh.

“You arranged for a date with the guy so you could get Josh’s car towed, didn’t you?” Jordan asked.

“Not exactly.” Brandi brushed her hair back. “We’ve been sort of flirting anyway, so this seemed a good as time as any to ask him to dinner.”

“But he’s taking you out, not the other way around.”

A sparkle lit her unusual green and brown eyes. “He insisted. Who am I to argue?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jordan found herself alone in the Fountenoy Hall van, following Josh and Simon in the tow truck as it lumbered down the road for the long drive.

Since it was Sunday, the mechanic’s was closed, but Josh filled out a card and dropped the keys in the lockbox as Simon unhitched his car.

Josh got in the van, shoving his backpack between the seats.

“I don’t know where you live,” Jordan said softly.

“Robillard. Follow the highway north a few more miles.”

Jordan nodded and pulled back into the street, driving in silence. Once on the highway, Josh gave her directions, stopping in front of an impressive brownstone with a lush green lawn. A few trees dotted the landscaping, and a neat walkway led up to large double doors.

It was warm and homey and cozy and he had never invited her over. She pressed her lips together and parked the van. “Will you need a ride in tomorrow?”