Page 7 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Josh wrapped the package tightly with multiple turns of plastic wrap and started the process over again. The job sucked, but it was a job with a steady paycheck.

He had found something with a regular schedule when he left school. Even without a degree, he’d been able to use his education and find something entry-level in finance.

Since his mom had changed her name to Revere when she got remarried, a casual search never showed the familial connection.

When Josh needed a background check to advance within the company, his prospects for a promotion plummeted to zero.

Never mind that taking care of a five-year-old who had been thrust into a new situation had required him to miss too much work.

No company was eager to hire the guy whose parents had been convicted of embezzlement and were fugitives to boot. Prospective employers eyed him with speculative glances when that information popped up. So he settled into a job that didn’t require extensive personal information.

A snapping sound reached his ears, and he searched for the source. Emma stood with her arms folded, and her toe tapped in rhythm with her chewing gum. “I don’t know why George always gives you a hard time. He sucks.”

“Doesn’t bother me any.” Place beef. Wrap container. Lather, rinse, repeat.

“Man, if he talked that way to me, I’d quit! How can you stand it?”

Josh shrugged. He’d take the asshole manager in exchange for a regular paycheck, but Emma, who only worked to have extra spending money, wouldn’t understand.

“Hey, listen.” She laid a hand on his arm, her perfect pink manicure a sharp contrast to his worn work shirt. “I’m turning twenty-one in a couple of months, but I really want to party tonight. Can you buy me some vodka?”

“No.”

Emma paused, her eyebrows mirroring Kenny’s recent expression. “Just like that? No?”

“Just like that.” If he got arrested, there’d be no way he’d still be allowed to take care of Zach.

“And I thought you were cool, for an old guy.”

He couldn’t care less what she thought.

She waited for him to respond, then pouted and dipped her head, no doubt making herself adorable and irresistible. “Please? You can come with us. It’ll be fun.”

He stacked the beef on the counter and left to get more. There was an offended scoff from behind him and the patter of footsteps, but Emma didn’t pursue him.

Thank goodness it was Friday and he could pretend for an afternoon that people actually appreciated his cooking skills.

Since his audience for the demonstrations was usually older couples out for free food, no one eyed him like double-proof martinis or tried to give him a phone number.

It was a refreshing change from dodging sliding hands or caressing fingers when he worked for Barb.

Yeah, he was a jerk to play the game. But it was worth the thrill of driving those cars, escaping into another world for the twenty minutes or half an hour it took to get home.

As far as he could tell, the women were loath to admit he hadn’t slept with them, to be the only one rejected by someone as easy as he was. Which worked out well for him.

Today Josh narrated as he prepared a mackerel for the crowd gathered by his booth. He chopped and sautéed and seasoned as money stresses and heavy burdens and his life not being his own disappeared for a while. It was just him and the fish, goat cheese, and arugula.

And Jordan, standing at the edge of the crowd with a shopping cart full of food, her mouth slightly open as she stared at him.

Hot anticipation crawled through his belly, dampened quickly by uneasiness. He could imagine he didn’t know her, like she had pretended to not know him on the phone. What had he been thinking, sending her that text?

She looked more beautiful in the simple blue dress than she had last night in an evening gown.

And she watched him with her intelligent brown eyes through the frames of her glasses as he presented his dish to the crowd.

They oohed and aahed over its perfect texture and the brightness of the citrus salad.

Then he put samples on plates and passed them out.

Jordan didn’t approach. She stayed in the aisle, watching him.

Probably afraid the dish wasn’t kosher. Even though he remembered her enjoying cheeseburgers when they were together. And she’d been holding a shrimp cup last night.

Finally the crowd thinned out and Jordan approached him. “That was beautifully done.”

He drank in the sight of her. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, emphasizing her cheekbones and beautiful brown eyes. “You sound surprised.”

“No, just confused.” She peered at the large, utilitarian walls and the rows and rows of bulk products. “I thought you were part of the catering company.”

“This is my day job.”

“Why are you working here, Josh? Really. I saw your demo. You’re no amateur.”

Jordan was ambitious. It had always been that way, and it was as sexy now as it was in college, whether it was maintaining straight As or making the All-American team for softball.

She wasn’t quite thirty and she owned her own successful company.

Not that he had checked up on her or anything in the past eight years.

“I like it here. I could be a manager one day.”

A laugh came from behind him and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh, that’s a good one, Lukasik.” George shook his head with a conspiratorial glance at Jordan. “You as a manager.”

Josh would have gladly stabbed the man with the fish’s forked tail.

“Tell you what, Mr. Manager,” George snorted. “I’ll finish up here. There’s grease leaking around the trap in the cutting room. Go check the lid and clean up the mess, then empty the trash.”

Josh let out a slow breath, stepping away to go to the back room instead of punching the guy in the face. Five more years. Then he could tell George to go fuck himself.

“Boy, it’s so hard to get good help these days.” George said. “If I don’t tell him what to do every step of the way, it’s sure to be done wrong.”

“The only way to do something right is to do it yourself,” Jordan intoned.

“That’s for sure.”

Josh bit back a laugh. The manager had missed the sarcastic lilt in Jordan’s sweet voice.

“I’m George,” he said as Josh disappeared into the cutting room. “Can I help you with something today?”

Josh envisioned stuffing his manager into the dumpster in place of the trash and didn’t hang around to see how she answered.

Damn, George hadn’t been kidding when he said the grease trap was leaking. A deluge was more like it. Sludge in stunning shades of brown with flecks of red and black lay in oil and grease on the floor. The rancid smell nearly made him gag.

He found the prybar for the lid, noting immediately that it hadn’t been put on correctly. After he lifted it, a chunk of something unidentifiable plopped back into the trap, sending splatter over Josh’s apron.

He’d never complain about the green cloth again.

After he was done with the trap and the mess, he stuffed a couple of folded garbage bags into his pocket to put in the receptacles once he gathered the trash.

Before he passed through the swinging doors, he scanned the area by the counter.

George stood there with a customer, but Jordan was nowhere in sight.

He’d take it.

The man’s face was red and blotchy, trying to get the order right. Josh recognized the customer’s face immediately, but the lobster on her hat would have given him a clue anyway. She worked at a local seafood restaurant, and it was always good to make nice with those who could hire you.

“Him!” The woman pointed. “He knows what he’s doing. I want him to help me. I’m asking for salmon and filets, and you keep trying to sell me salmon fillets. I don’t how much clearer I can be. They’re two separate things.”

Josh waited for his manager to do right by the customer and let him take over.

Instead, George’s face turned even redder. “Josh is unavailable at the moment. Give me your order one more time. I’m sure I’ll get it right.”

“That’s okay.” The woman wheeled her cart away from the counter as Josh lifted the trash bag, holding his breath against the odor of mackerel bones, shrimp tails, and onion skin. “I’ll come back later.”