Page 34 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

“I should be okay.” He reached for the door handle, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” She could master minimal syllable sentences, too.

He took a step away from the curb but didn’t walk toward his house. She made a U-turn, not bothering to wait. Time to go home and pretend the ache in her heart didn’t exist.

Movement on the floor next to her caught her eye when she turned the corner. Josh’s beat-up grey backpack had shifted away from the seat.

Crap.

She made another U-turn and headed back to the brownstone in time to see Josh disappear around the corner of the next street. The hell?

She crept to the intersection and waited to see if he turned again. Time to employ Stealth Jordan.

Thankful there wasn’t much traffic, she tailed him down the street. Finally he reached dilapidated apartments, crossing the dried lawn to follow a cracked sidewalk to the entrance.

He’d had money when they were in college. Enough that seeing this ramshackle building was a surprise. Plus he’d been holding down two jobs. Why was he living so cheaply?

A couple of stray bikes lay on the dead grass next to a half-deflated basketball. He took something out of his pocket – probably a key – and pushed open the door.

She rolled to a stop in front of the building and gripped the steering wheel, staring while he disappeared inside. She should go. Just go and pretend she never saw his backpack.

No. She shook her head and let out a breath. Honesty was important, especially if she insisted he was honest with her.

She grabbed his pack and exited the car before she could convince herself to drive away. She marched up the pavement to the front door. It opened without a problem, letting her into a small space with mailboxes and buzzers for each apartment. Another door loomed in front of her.

She tried the handle, but it didn’t open, so she cupped her hands on the glass and peered in. One apartment sat at the base of a staircase, but there were no people around to let her in.

A few of the buzzers had names, but Lukasik wasn’t on any of them. She flattened her palms against them all and pressed. Why not, right? It worked in the movies.

But there was only silence from the speaker, no flat ring indicating the door had been unlocked.

That left calling him as her only option. Or texting. She took out her phone.

A red-haired man ambled out of the lone first-floor apartment and locked his door, then tested it to make sure it stayed closed. He set eyes on her through the glass when he turned around.

He didn’t let her in. “Help you?”

“Hi.” She held up the grey backpack, relieved when her savior seemed to recognize it. “I’m looking for Josh Lukasik. I work with him at Fountenoy Hall.”

The man scrutinized her, studying her face and person with nothing more than straightforward observation.

She resisted the urge to fix her posture and reposition her glasses.

Finally he opened the door between them.

“Come on in. Sometimes the buzzers don’t work.

Like after it rains. Or when it’s been dry a long time. ”

Jordan eyed the rickety bannister and followed him up the stairs, hoping he’d lead her to Josh’s apartment so she wouldn’t have to admit she didn’t know which one it was.

“We all sure were happy when he got a job as an actual chef, not that Friday cooking demonstration they had him doing at Essie’s. Boy’s got a natural talent in the kitchen. The catering’s a good job but it don’t pay enough for him and Zach.”

Jordan tripped on the step at the third floor. Who the hell was Zach?

The red-haired man hadn’t noticed her stumble. “It’s nice having young ones around. Here we are.”

The door to Josh’s apartment loomed like the curtain wall of a castle. Too bad she hadn’t brought her Trojan horse. “Thank you, Mr...”

“Everyone calls me Berry.”

“I appreciate the help.”

He had stopped at one of the four doors lining the hallway. Jordan took a deep breath and knocked. There was no sounds or voices, no movement coming from inside. She tried again. “Josh?”

“He might have already gone up to the Sumners’.”

“Oh.” Maybe this was fate. She should leave the pack with Mr. Berry, leave the building, leave well enough alone. Josh had kept so much from her, and the gaping feeling in her heart ached like an open wound.

Mr. Berry started up one more flight, then stopped halfway. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

***

Josh stood in the Sumners’ kitchen and used his forearm to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead before prepping the vegetables for the salad.

His knife made satisfying thunks on the wooden cutting board as it chopped and sliced.

Aside from attempting to act normal with Jordan this afternoon, his entire week had sucked.

Zach was still angry. Wendy’s accusations pricked his sense of kitchen contentment, and he wanted to whisk away the smarminess that oozed from Anthon like runny egg yolks.

And Jordan. She deserved so much more than someone like Josh. Letting her go had been the right thing to do.

“Jesus, Josh. Put the knife down,” Mrs. Sumner said. She took the utensil away from him and lay it on the small counter. “We may be old, but our teeth still work just fine.”

Salad pieces lay everywhere, most of the vegetables diced too finely to determine what they used to be. At least he hadn’t sliced his fingers in the process.

“Berry’s here!” Vela called from the living room. “With a date!”

Berry’s low grumble carried into the kitchen, followed by a laugh. A feminine laugh as rich as cream that most definitely did not originate from the apartment manager. In fact, it sounded a lot like...

Oh, hell no.

Self preservation had Josh leaping to the far corner of the kitchen. He smushed himself in the tiny pantry where he wouldn’t be visible from the threshold. The shelves dug into his back and he sidestepped the cans on the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did you see a bug?” Mrs. Sumner bent over and examined the countertop.

“Needed to stretch a bit,” he mumbled, raising his arms above his head and brushing the doorframe.

How had she found him? He had been so damn careful, never letting anyone see where he lived.

The apartments were crap, and everyone who lived here dreamed of a place with consistent lighting and water that remained hot and banisters that didn’t fall apart.

Visitors always doled out self-pitying glances or carefully stoic faces. Seeing that on Jordan would kill him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jordan.” Josh heard Marty through the door.

And now Jordan, his beautiful Jordan, had been sucked into the living hell that he called home.

When his mind had a chance to calm down, he stepped away from the wall. He’d been hiding in a fucking closet. For God’s sake, he really had fallen.

Soft conversations drifted into the kitchen but Josh couldn’t make them out. He gave his hands a quick wash, then took out his phone and leaned against the wall.

“Hi, Zach.” Jordan’s voice carried into the kitchen, clearer than a glass of spring water.

Son of a bitch. What r u doing here?

A tune rang from the next room. “I should probably take this.” Jordan’s voice became amused.

Five seconds later his phone vibrated. Looking for you. Are you going to skulk in there all night?

Not skulking.

Prove it .

Like he was some kid she could take on a dare. Go home, Jordan.

He had to wait for her next response.

I have your backpack.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

His phone vibrated again. Please talk to me.

“Please, Josh.”

Jordan stood in the kitchen doorway, her eyes shuttered behind the squared frames of her glasses and her arms folded across her chest. Mrs. Sumner had vacated the room, leaving them alone.

“What do you want me to say?” He approached, and her tongue darted out and wet her lips. He doubted she even noticed. He held out his hand. “My backpack.”

“It’s by the sofa.”

He pointed. “The door.”

She pierced him with her frank gaze. “I’m staying. Mr. Berry invited me here, not you.”

The intensity, the determination she exuded scared the shit out of him. He’d worked so hard to build up barriers against pain and loss and this woman had started their destruction with a look, a touch. She would ruin him if she tried even a little bit harder.

God, he ached for her to tear them down. And he was petrified she’d succeed.

The oven timer chimed and he stepped back to the stove to turn it off, the space between them an unstable bridge waiting for a strong wind to knock it down. He grabbed the pot holders and lifted the heavy pan onto the stovetop, sending a rich, tomato aroma into the small kitchen.

Jordan had moved across the table, alone and unreachable. She held her head high, elongating the graceful column of her neck.

“You have a brother.”

Josh gave a single nod.

“Is that why you never invited me over?” She ran her hand over the table top as if brushing off crumbs, but Mrs. Sumner kept it pristine.

“For the past month, I’ve been running all sorts of scenarios in my head as to why you never invited me to spend the night.

Never showed me where you live. All these big and awful things and it’s only because you have a brother? ”

It was the perfect excuse, but he couldn’t embrace it. “Part of it.” He grabbed a whole carrot and chopped. There was so much to confess, he didn’t know where to start.

“You know what, Josh? I don’t care. I don’t want to know.

” She held up a hand, her muscles were rigid and tense, her eyes pained.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been holding on to my feelings for you and hoping, but I was just a flavor of the month to you.

I absolve you of any agreement or commitment we may have had, stated or inferred.

You’re free. You can go back to finding a nightly baker. ”

This was best, even as his world crumbled around him. Let her believe what she wanted. She gave him a nod and pushed open the door leading out of the kitchen.

Damn it, he had to admit the truth. He owed her that much. “I don’t have any,” he mumbled.

She stopped in the threshold. “I know, Josh. The feelings are all on me.”

“No, I don’t...” The words jumped up in his throat. “I don’t have any bakers, Jordan. Women, I mean. There hasn’t been anyone since you.”

A small, sad smile graced her lips and she stepped back into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. “I appreciate that. You can change that right up again once I leave.”

She didn’t get it. “I mean...” A throbbing pulsed in his brain and he put down the knife.

Apparently his consciousness was vehemently opposed to him sharing this, but his gut still had the upper hand.

She had to know that there were feelings.

So many feelings. Too many feelings when it came to her.

“There hasn’t been anyone since you. Eight years ago. ”

She froze. “But Lana said…”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Ask her. Ask for honesty. It was all a game. I don’t even remember how it got started.

Someone drove me home and everyone assumed we’d slept together.

Maybe she told them we did. I don’t know.

After that, no one admitted that they couldn’t get an easy lay like me in bed. ”

“ Oy .” Jordan gave a small snort. “I don’t think she actually said she’d slept with you. Strongly implied.”

“The only thing I drove was her car. Have you seen it? That sucker’s sweet.”

Jordan offered him a soft laugh, but he could tell she was processing what he had said. Her stare drove down into his soul. “So you haven’t...”

“No.”

“In eight years?”

“Not until two weeks ago.” He raked his hand around the back of his neck.

“Eight years?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. It was too hard to get you out of my mind.” He pushed the vegetables to the middle of the cutting board.

“So this was about me.” Her voice held a tinge of amusement.

He scooped up the veggies and dropped them into the bowl. “Stop staring at me like I’m a museum specimen.”

“I’m coming in!” Mrs. Sumner called from the living room before barging into the kitchen. She inspected the meat on the stovetop. “Did you touch my roast?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I would never interfere with a classic. It’s done resting.”

“Jordan, are you staying for dinner?”

“I’m not sure.” She raised an eyebrow in Josh’s direction. “Am I?”