Not the Marrying Kind

by Jae

  The bag of flour sat on the worktable.

  Ash lunged for it, reached inside, and flung a handful at Sasha.

  In retaliation, Sasha lopped more frosting at her.

  Soon, they were laughing and screaming and pelting each other with flour, powdered sugar, and every other food item within reach.

  Sasha skidded through a puddle on the tiled floor, slid to a stop in front of the giant fridge, and wrenched the door open to take cover behind it. With a triumphant cry, she located something inside.

  Oh no. It was a container of eggs. If Sasha got her hands on them… Ash dove across the kitchen and tackled her.

  “Uff!” Sasha dropped the eggs. They both went down.

  They ended up on the tiled floor, with Ash on top and Sasha stretched out beneath her.

  “Give me the eggs or…!” Ash tried to reach the container Sasha held out of reach.

  “Or what?” Sasha drawled.

  “Or I’ll have to do something drastic.”

  Sasha flashed a challenging grin. “Like what?”

  “Like…like…” Ash paused. Her ribs and cheeks ached from laughter. She hadn’t laughed so much in years. She stared down at Sasha, who was still laughing unrestrained. The sound of it vibrated through Ash’s body.

  Pink frosting dripped down Sasha’s nose. Her bandanna had slipped off, and her hair was dusted in flour. Powdered sugar clung to her face and to her tank-top-and-apron-clad body, and Ash had the sudden urge to lick it off. God, she was beautiful.

  “Like…like this.” Ash bent down and kissed her.

  Sasha froze for one thudding heartbeat.

  Oh, shit. I—

  Before Ash could retreat, Sasha’s mouth opened beneath hers. Sasha dropped the container of eggs and wrapped her arms around Ash, pulling her even closer. Her lips caressed Ash’s, slowly at first.

  Ash’s eyes fluttered closed, and all of her other senses sparked to life. Sasha’s taste, her scent, the heat of her skin made her head swim.

  Then Sasha experimentally touched the tip of Ash’s tongue with her own, sending a jolt of pleasure down Ash’s spine, and the kiss turned urgent.

  Their tongues slid along each other with long, sensual strokes.

  God, she tasted so good—of raspberries and a hint of taco spice and something that was just Sasha. Ash couldn’t get enough of her. She fanned her fingers over Sasha’s strong jaw, holding her against her with both hands, and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

  Sasha cupped the back of her neck with one strong yet gentle hand while her other came to rest in the small of her back.

  Oh God. More. Need swirled through Ash. She pressed closer, pushing her hips into the V of Sasha’s muscular thighs.

  Sasha arched up into her. A low moan escaped from deep in her throat as they continued to kiss.

  At the sound, a trill of desire raced down Ash’s body. She melted against Sasha and let go of her face with one hand to explore her shoulder, left bare by her tank top. She wanted…needed to feel her warm, soft—

  A shrill ringing penetrated the thick fog of desire.

  What…? Ash dragged her mouth away from Sasha’s and gasped for breath. For several seconds, she stared down at her without comprehending what had happened and how they had gotten into this position.

  They were lying on the floor, in a sticky mess of flour, powdered sugar, and frosting. The container of eggs was leaking yolks onto the tiles next to them, and the oven timer was going off.

  Sasha’s hand slipped from the back of Ash’s neck, but her other palm stayed where it was, resting in the small of her back. Her lips were red from their kisses, and her pupils had widened, making her eyes look like the dark chocolate glaze of her orange cheesecake.

  They stared at each other, their bodies still pressed together and their faces only inches apart.

  “Ashley, I—”

  In the front of the bakery, a key jangled in the lock. “It’s just me, Sasha,” Mae called.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Ash jumped up, slipped in a puddle of frosting, and nearly fell.

  Sasha sat up and gripped her thighs to steady her.

  As Mae’s steps approached the swinging doors, Ash freed herself from Sasha’s gentle grasp. Her heart slammed against her ribs in a fast staccato. “I have to go.”

  “What?” Sasha blinked up at her. Powdered sugar clung to her lashes. “Now? Come on, Ash. Let’s—”

  Ash backed away. “No, Sasha. I…I can’t.” She whirled around, wrenched open the back door, and rushed outside into the cool night air.

  “You haven’t even tried the cupcakes!” Sasha called after her.

  Ash didn’t stop. The only craving she had wasn’t for cupcakes; it was for more of Sasha’s kisses—and that scared her. As she fled to her car, she reached up and touched her tingling lips. Sweet Jesus.

  Her world titled on its axis, and there was only one thing she knew for sure: She had never been kissed like that…had never kissed anyone like that.

  Moments from earlier flashed through her mind’s eye like scenes from a movie. God, had she really started a food fight, like a teenager? Had she really tackled Sasha to the floor? Had she been the one to initiate that kiss? That wasn’t like her at all.

  Or maybe it was. And that was the scariest thing of all, because she didn’t know what to do with this new version of herself.

  “Fuck.” Sasha stared after her.

  Now that her body was no longer in contact with Ashley’s, the cold from the tiles started to seep in, and she realized the back of her tank top was drenched with a mixture of egg and frosting.

  She slowly got to her feet and shook out her apron. A cloud of flour and powdered sugar rose in the air.

  The double doors swung open, and her aunt paused in the doorway as if she had run into an invisible wall. Wide-eyed, she took in the kitchen.

  Sasha looked around too. Pink frosting was spattered all over the worktable, the cupboards, and the fridge. The counters and the floor were covered in a dusting of flour and powdered sugar. The only spot where she could see the black-and-white-checkered tiles was where she and Ashley had strained against each other in a passionate kiss, as if the white layer had been snow that had melted from the heat of their bodies.

  Jesus. Sasha wiped her sticky face.

  Her aunt pressed a hand to her mouth. “Good heavens! What happened to the kitchen?”

  Ashley happened. To give herself some time to answer, Sasha opened the oven, pulled out the two pans, and set the cupcakes onto the cooling rack. “Just a little accident,” she said with her back to Aunt Mae.

  Was that what they would put it down to—an accident? Just a moment of mutual confusion that would never be repeated?

  Judging from the way Ashley had run out, that was exactly what would happen.

  Maybe it would be for the best. Sasha wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone and certainly not with someone as complicated as Ashley.

  But after that kiss, her body had difficulties remembering that. God, the way Ashley had leaned down and just kissed her had been so incredibly hot. Ashley had surprised her, first with her playfulness during the food fight and then with her passion. If that fucking timer hadn’t gone off and her aunt hadn’t come over, they would probably still be stretched out on the floor, making out in a layer of flour and powdered sugar.

  “Accident?” her aunt repeated. “With an elephant? Because that’s what my kitchen looks like. As if a herd of elephants had stampeded through here.”

  “Your kitchen?” Sasha chose to focus on that part of the conversation because she didn’t know what to say to the rest. “I thought we agreed that you’d buy a rocking chair and finally enjoy retirement?”

  Aunt Mae shrugged. “Rocking chairs make me nauseated, and retirement is for old people. I thought I would come over and see if
you needed help.” She eyed the eggs forming a puddle in the middle of the kitchen. “Apparently, you do.”

  “No, Auntie. You don’t need to help. This is my mess to clean up.”

  “If you’d rather do it yourself…” Aunt Mae gestured at her to go ahead but didn’t retreat from the doorway.

  Sighing, Sasha ran hot water into the sink and began to wipe down the sticky counters.

  “So,” her aunt said after a while, “do you want to talk about the elephant in the room? Or rather, the elephant who ran out of the room?”

  The cleaning rag splashed into the sink. Sasha stared at her. “Um, how do you know…?”

  A smile deepened the wrinkles on her aunt’s face. “There are footprints all over the kitchen, all the way to the door, and they aren’t a size eleven, like yours.”

  Sasha looked down. Sure enough, a trail of yolk and raspberry-colored footprints led to the back door. Damn. For a moment, she felt the way she had when she’d been caught kissing Travis’s cousin, Kristi, who’d been visiting from New York. But she was no longer fourteen, and Ashley wouldn’t be leaving town at the end of the week. They would have to deal with what had happened between them.

  “Let me guess.” Aunt Mae pointed at the footprints. “These were made by Ashley Gaines’s cute, pink sneakers.”

  “Um…” Sasha had never kept secrets from her aunt. Auntie Mae had practically raised her, so she deserved better than to be lied to. “Yeah.”

  Her aunt’s eyes twinkled behind her green-tinted glasses. “Does this,” she swirled her finger through the air, indicating the mess, “mean you finally kissed her?”

  Sasha, who had just picked up the cleaning rag again, dropped it a second time. “How did you know that I…? That she is…? That we…?”

  “Fried Green Tomatoes,” her aunt said as if that would explain everything.

  Sasha leaned against the sink and shook her head from side to side, feeling as if she had some frosting stuck in her brain that was slowing down her thinking. “Um, what?”

  “The movie,” Auntie Mae said. “Haven’t you watched it?”

  “Of course I have.” She had watched it a dozen times or more—even knowing the ending always made her cry—mainly for Mary-Louise Parker’s cute smile and for the way Idgie rocked a pair of suspenders. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Did you know that the food fight scene was intended as a symbol for them having sex?” Her aunt gave her a knowing look and a wink. “That’s how I knew.”

  Sasha sputtered. “What? But Ashley and I…we weren’t… We didn’t have sex!”

  “But you kissed her,” Aunt Mae said with a triumphant I-knew-it tone.

  “No, I—”

  “Come on, honey! You don’t expect me to believe that you have been taking almost the entire inventory of the bakery over to her shop this past month because the orchids have discovered their fondness for vanilla cupcakes, do you? You’re sweet on her! Just admit it.”

  “No, that’s not…” Sasha snapped her mouth shut. Who was she kidding? “Okay, maybe I do have a tiny bit of a crush on her.” She held her thumb and index finger half an inch apart. “But for the record, she kissed me.”

  Auntie Mae whistled through her dentures. “I didn’t think she’d have the guts to do that.”

  “Me neither,” Sasha murmured. “Surprised the hell out of me.”

  “But you kissed her back, right?” her aunt asked.

  Sasha laughed. “Hell, yeah! I’m not stupid. I mean, she’s beautiful, totally cute, and a lot of fun once she drops her guard. She’s also one heck of a kisser.” She trailed her finger over her bottom lip as she flashed back to the way Ashley had kissed her, then stopped when she realized what she was doing.

  “Just a tiny crush, huh?” Her aunt gave her a teasing grin. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Pretty sure,” Sasha said. She was, wasn’t she? The way Ashley had run out of there proved that she was like Sasha’s mother—not someone she could tie her heart to, even if Sasha were the tying-her-heart-to-someone type. “Neither of us are the marrying kind.”

  “I don’t know about Ashley, but I think you could be.” The teasing tone was gone from Aunt Mae’s voice now. “I don’t want you to end up with regrets one day because you didn’t challenge the assumptions you made—about her or about yourself.”

  Sasha studied her aunt’s familiar face. “Do you have any? Regrets, I mean. You never had a serious relationship. Not after I practically moved in with you. I hope you never felt like you had to give up your own happiness to be there for me.”

  Her aunt entered the kitchen, ignoring the mess on the floor that would likely stain her shoes, and wrapped her arms around Sasha. Her head came only to Sasha’s shoulder. “You and the bakery are my happiness. I hope you know that.”

  Sasha swallowed against the lump in her throat. She squeezed her aunt softly. “I do. But you could have had both, you know?”

  “Hey, I still can. I’m hotter than apple pie fresh out of the oven.” Aunt Mae fluffed her dyed hair.

  They both chuckled, then sobered.

  “I never met anyone I could see myself growing old with,” her aunt said. “But if you ever do, promise me you won’t run from it.”

  “Me?” Sasha looked at the back door. “I’m not the one who ran out of here like a bat out of hell.”

  Her aunt patted her shoulder. “There’s more than one way to run. Sometimes, not moving an inch is the worst kind of running.” She stared at her hand and rubbed her fingers together, which were now sticky too. “My God, what did you do? Roll around in frosting? Are you sure you didn’t have sex right here on the kitchen floor?”

  “I think I would remember that.” As it was, the kiss they had shared on the kitchen floor would probably be seared into her brain for the rest of her life.

  “Yeah, you probably would. It’s always the quiet, innocent-looking ones like Ashley who are real tigers in bed—or on the kitchen tiles.”

  Sasha gaped at her aunt. After knowing her for all her life, she should have been used to the things she sometimes said. “Thanks a lot, Auntie. I really didn’t need those images in my head.” She gave her aunt a somber look. “You know you can’t mention this,” she gestured around the kitchen, then vaguely in the direction where Ashley had fled, “to anyone, right? Ashley is scared to death of being outed.”

  Her aunt gave her another pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. You know I’m not in the habit of discussing your private life at the dog park or with the ladies from the bridge club. Come on. Now that my shoes are already sticky, I might as well help you clean up and make a new batch of frosting, or you’ll never get out of here at a reasonable hour. Four a.m. comes mighty early, and you need to get some sleep.”

  Sleep? Sasha had a feeling she wouldn’t get much of it, no matter when she left the bakery.

  Chapter 11

  Four o’clock, the time when the bakery closed, came and went. Not that Ash was watching the clock or anything.

  Okay, maybe she was. She hadn’t been thinking of anything but that crazy kiss for the past twenty-two hours and eighteen minutes. She had been so distracted all day that she’d even mixed up two orders, which had never happened to her before. Thank God her driver had wondered why the funeral home would order an arrangement with a floating balloon saying, It’s a girl.

  Ash could only imagine what Mr. Beasley would have made of that mistake.

  Even Brooke appeared distracted today. Every few minutes, she paused in the middle of sweeping the shop and glanced out the window.

  The bell above the front door jingled.

  Ash looked up, half hoping, half afraid to see Sasha in the doorway with a bakery box full of lemon cupcakes.

  But it was only Travis who burst into the shop as if his pants were on fire.

&nbs
p; “Just Mr. Bonnett.” Brooke sounded as disappointed as Ash felt. “I don’t think she’s coming to bring us cupcakes today.” She stuck out her bottom lip like a pouting toddler.

  Travis rushed up to the counter. “Thank God. I thought you might be closed already.”

  Ash looked at the clock on the wall again. Their shop hours had officially ended two minutes ago, but she never locked the door until she was leaving. That way, she could help out last-minute customers and earn some extra money. “Still here. What can I do for you?”

  “You can save my life.”

  “Um, if you’re in a life-threatening situation, wouldn’t you rather go to the ER?” Ash chuckled. “My flowers are powerful, but they are not that powerful.”

  “I don’t think the ER docs can help me. Well, unless maybe by surgically removing my head from up my ass.”

  Ash gave him a sympathetic look. “Ouch. What did you do?” She bit back a this time.

  Travis sighed. “I made some dumb-ass comment about the price of the outfit that Jenny bought for the wedding. And the shoes. And the purse.”

  “Oh, I see. So it’s a flower emergency.”

  He nodded. “Do you have a flower that says ‘I’m sorry for being an ass’?”

  Ash had a feeling she needed that kind of apology flower too. “Sure. Do you want a bouquet or a potted plant?”

  “Potted plant,” Travis said without hesitation. “Probably won’t be long before I mess up again, and a potted plant will last longer.”

  Ash stepped out from behind the counter and walked him over to the shelf that held plants in colorful pots. “How about a white orchid? White is the color of peace and agreement after all.”

  “Peace. Yeah, that’s what I need at home. I’ll take it.” He grabbed the biggest white orchid off the shelf and tucked it under his arm as if it were a football.

  “Um, want me to wrap it in some tissue paper?”