Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3)

by Erin Nicholas

  She actually sighed at the sound of his voice.

  She never should have had sex with him. How was she supposed to get over him now? He’d been so good. Sex like that was not run-of-the-mill sex. That had been ruin-her-for-other-men sex.

  “Did you come to talk to George and Phil?”

  George and Phil both looked over.

  “Phil’s going to start renting out his rig,” George said. “I’m helping him get that going. I know about loans and capital. We figured maybe Grant knew something about contracts like this.”

  Phil had been an over-the-road trucker for years, while George had been a banker in Appleby for as long as Josie could remember. The two men had very different backgrounds and lifestyles. George was a burly man who wore slacks and a button-down shirt every day, was clean shaven, and wore his hair neatly trimmed. Phil was lanky, pulled his long gray hair in a ponytail, often had scruff on his face, and wore jeans and t-shirts. It was interesting to see them working together on a project.

  Josie looked at Grant. “Do you know something about all of that?”

  “Yes.”

  Of course he did. He was the epitome of a polished businessman who knew everything about mergers and expansions and every other business term.

  “But Cam’s the one they really should talk to.”

  Josie nodded. “So you’re here because…”

  “Of you.”

  She felt her shoulders relax as he filled in the blank the way she’d wanted him to. She smiled and crooked her finger at him. He lifted a brow but got up and approached the counter. She leaned in when he was close.

  “I’m sorry about the cupcakes,” she said softly.

  Grant frowned. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes. I realize now that those were inappropriate.”

  Grant tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. He’d been wearing the full suit when he’d come into the bakery that morning as usual. Her heart had stuttered when she’d seen him. She’d been stupidly attracted to him for a long time, but that morning, after last night in her kitchen—now that she knew how his mouth felt against hers, and against other parts of her, how his hands felt on her skin, how dirty he could be, how good he could be—she hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at him for a full ten seconds when she’d first seen him.

  Now he was wearing everything but the jacket. He even still had the tie on, though it was loose at the throat.

  Josie had to curl her hands into fists to keep from reaching for the knot and pulling it loose. She wanted to see the tie hanging loose around his neck, those top buttons open, exposing the skin at the base of his throat. Even if she went on tiptoe she’d barely be able to press a kiss there.

  “Why do you think the cupcakes were inappropriate?”

  Her eyes widened. “There was a—” She cast a glance at George and Phil. She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “A c-o-c-k cupcake.”

  The corner of Grant’s mouth curled. It reminded her so much of her kitchen the night before and how much more open and relaxed he’d seemed that she pressed her lips together. Don’t say anything stupid. And don’t kiss him. That would definitely be inappropriate.

  “I think George and Phil can spell.”

  She gave a little huff of laughter. “Right.”

  Grant just looked at her for a long moment. He seemed to be trying to figure out what to say. Or maybe how to say it. “Jocelyn,” he finally said. “The only thing I didn’t like about the cupcakes was the idea of you making those for any other man. Ever.”

  That sent a shaft of heat through her. He said the most preposterous and possessive things. They really did barely know each other. So why did he feel that? And why the hell did she like it?

  “I’ve never made those before.”

  “But you could make them again,” he said. “They’d be a great line to offer as part of your side business. Bachelorette parties, gag gifts, that kind of thing.”

  Josie felt her eyes widen again. “You think so?”

  “Well, yes.” He seemed reluctant to admit that. “But like I said, I don’t like the idea of you making them for anyone else.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at that. “They’re just cupcakes.”

  “They were just cupcakes for me?” he asked. His voice had dropped to a husky, lower tone. “Because they felt like a dirty, private joke just between us designed to have me thinking about your sweet pussy and tits and ass all day and making me eager to get my mouth on them all over again as soon as possible.”

  Josie sucked in a sharp breath as all of those parts, and well, every nerve ending in her body, it seemed, responded to that.

  He leaned in a little more. “Tell me they weren’t that, Jocelyn.”

  She swallowed hard. “They were,” she said softly. Huskily.

  “And you thought that would be inappropriate?”

  She nodded.

  “After I had my mouth all over your body last night?” His voice was quiet too, but George and Phil were completely silent and leaning in to hear better.

  She wet her lips. But nodded again. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually want to again. The cupcakes could have been kind of pushy.”

  He did that half-smile thing again and her belly flipped. “Push me, Jocelyn. Please.”

  Now she smiled even as her entire body got hotter. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t hide her grin or her blush.

  “Good. I still want to try my hand at those whoopie pies. I was thinking about seeing how the cream filling turns out tonight.”

  Her inner muscles clenched at the look on his face now. He looked… hungry.

  Damn. Okay. So he’d changed his mind. He knew she wasn’t the casual type, and he’d just said that the cupcakes were fine. In fact, he wanted more.

  She giggled.

  “What?” he asked, a smile still tilting his mouth.

  “Everything about the bakery suddenly sounds dirty in my head,” she said.

  His eyes darkened slightly. “What time do you get off work?”

  “Five.”

  “I’ll meet you at your house at five oh five.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m going to have quite the appetite.”

  A hot shiver went through her. “Noted.”

  Finally, he lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And she melted a little.

  He was sweet. He was gruff and dirty and even a little reluctant to get involved at all, but he was also sweet and possessive, and… he’d fallen under her spell. Even though he hadn’t wanted to. She had to admit that made her feel powerful. Romantically powerful.

  This was how romance worked. It was a force you couldn’t fight and you couldn’t deny.

  Not even Grant Lorre.

  And it was her making him feel that way.

  Okay, so the rom coms didn’t have pussy cupcakes in them or naughty kitchen sex. But that honestly just made all of this so much better.

  “I should get back to work,” she finally said after staring at him for several long seconds and just basking in how all of this was really worth all the frogs she’d kissed so far.

  “Yeah. Okay.” He seemed reluctant to let her go. “I’m just going to watch.”

  She laughed. “Right. Your newly discovered fetish.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  She was now going to have to find a reason to stay at the front of the bakery today. Grant was a baking voyeur, and she was very happy to help him with that.

  8

  Josie helped a couple of customers and then pitched in on the last-minute order for four-dozen cake pops Zoe had taken while she and Grant had been talking.

  “I think we’re going to need more sugar,” Zoe said, eyeing the cake-pop embellishments they had laid out. “We have plenty of sprinkles, but there’s not as much blue sugar. It will look weird if we do like three-dozen sprinkles and only one with sugar.”

  Josie nodded. “Well,
let’s do four different ones, then. One dozen with sugar, one dozen with sprinkles, one dozen with crushed nuts, and one dozen with… crushed cookies?”

  Zoe grinned. “Brilliant. Yes. Do we have chocolate cookies?”

  “Definitely.”

  Josie grabbed the short ladder and pulled it over in front of the tall set of shelves set into the wall behind the bakery cases. They stored their canisters of various ingredients on the shelves, making it decorative and functional at the same time. The canister of cookies was on one of the higher shelves, and Josie had to stretch for it.

  She felt a twinge in her shoulder blade as she reached but ignored it. It happened from time to time. It was an overuse injury from stirring and whisking a lot during the day. Probably tendonitis according to Alicia, the nurse practitioner, Josie supplied with seven-layer bars on the side for family functions and potlucks. She’d never formally seen Alicia, or anyone else about the pain that came and went, but she’d mentioned it once, and Alicia had agreed that it was likely a hazard of Josie’s job.

  It had started about a month ago and had been getting more frequent, but Josie was ignoring it for the most part. She didn’t have time to go to the doctor. Moreover, she didn’t have time to rest her arm. Her job required her to use it, a lot, every single day. And her job didn’t really have built-in sick time. It was just her and Zoe running the bakery. If one of them wasn’t here, Maggie could and did fill in, but it wasn’t the same, and Josie knew, without any ego, that she was the true talent. People came to Buttered Up for decorated cakes in part because Josie was extremely good at her job. The bakery was a town staple and was famous in this area of the state. Their recipes were tried and true. People bought their pies and cookies and cakes because they would be delicious every single time.

  But since Josie had started at the bakery, right out of high school, they’d seen a definite increase in demand for specialty cakes for birthdays and other occasions. She could create anything out of cake. And word had spread.

  So she had to be here. Zoe and the business depended on her.

  Besides, she didn’t have insurance to pay for a doctor’s visit or treatment anyway. As a very small business, Zoe didn’t offer insurance. Prior to Zoe owning Buttered Up, it hadn’t been an issue. Zoe’s grandma and then her mom had run the bakery, and they’d been covered on their husband’s plans. Zoe was covered on her dad’s plan, and once she and Aiden were married, he’d cover her. Josie had been on her dad’s insurance up until about two months ago when he’d been reduced to part time. It was good for him. His job at the egg factory was hard on him physically and cutting back helped immensely. But financially it was going to be tough until her mom could find something.

  And that left Josie without insurance coverage.

  She hadn’t told Zoe. It would make her friend feel bad and maybe even cause her to panic buy something to cover Josie that would cost far more than it needed to.

  Aiden was a millionaire and could just buy a policy probably, but neither he nor Zoe wanted that. Buttered Up was her business, her legacy, and she wanted to do this herself. Aiden respected that and didn’t expect to become a partner. And a guy couldn’t go around just writing million-dollar checks to his girlfriend’s business without some legal considerations.

  So he was helping Zoe get policies and things caught up at Buttered Up. The fact that they didn’t have things like employee benefits bothered him a lot. But it was taking a little time, and they both had a lot going on. So Josie just wanted to give them a chance to get it all straightened out. She could deal with her tendonitis until it all got figured out.

  But as she pulled the heavy ceramic canister from its spot on the shelf, the pain grabbed and she gasped.

  It was either the surprise of it or the actual nerve suddenly refusing to fire, but her grip loosened and the canister slipped. The ceramic jar hit the hard linoleum with a loud crash.

  Everyone in the bakery jumped and swung to face her.

  “Oh my God! Josie, are you all right?” Zoe came forward quickly. She was frowning, clearly concerned.

  Josie realized she was holding her shoulder. And probably grimacing. Because she felt like someone had a hot poker and was stabbing it under her shoulder blade. She was having a hard time taking a deep breath. She nodded but was grateful for Zoe’s hand on her other arm as she stepped down. She didn’t trust her painful arm to help.

  Suddenly Grant was there, big and glowering, practically pushing Zoe out of the way.

  “What the hell happened?” he demanded, seeming almost angry.

  But the huge hands on her waist, that plucked her off the step and turned to set her on the counter were gentle.

  “I just… my shoulder hurts,” she said.

  “Can you move it?” He was still scowling at her.

  She frowned back and lifted her arm. She had full range of motion, and it didn’t hurt to move it. Well, it didn’t hurt more to move it. It still hurt. Especially when she took a deep breath. What the hell? She was able to reach overhead and circle it.

  “What did you do?” Grant asked. His voice had calmed a little, but he was still standing very close, nearly hovering.

  “I didn’t do anything. I grabbed that canister, and it made my shoulder tendonitis twinge, and—oh no!” Her eyes flew to the smashed pieces of ceramic on the floor behind Grant. “Oh, Zoe!” She found her friend standing to the side, watching Grant fuss over her with an amused look on her face. “I’m so sorry!”

  Zoe shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You didn’t mean to drop it.”

  “No, but I feel terrible. It was your grandma’s.”

  Zoe waved toward the shelves. “I have lots. No worries. I’m a little concerned about your shoulder though.” She gave Grant a look. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Josie waited until Zoe’s gaze swung back to her. “Oh, me?”

  Zoe chuckled. “Well, both of you. There’s a lot of… something going on around here.”

  Grant didn’t look amused. “I’m just concerned.”

  “Me too,” Zoe agreed. “So it’s tendonitis? Should you see someone? A physical therapist or someone?”

  She probably should, yes. But that would cost money. Josie gave her friend a smile. “I talked to Alicia about it. She said ice, rest, ibuprofen, all of that. She said massage might help.”

  Zoe nodded, but Grant asked, “Who’s Alicia?”

  His voice was gruff and he was still frowning.

  He seemed legitimately worried and that made Josie feel warm. Warmer than how Zoe’s reaction made her feel. Zoe made Josie feel cared for and loved, but she didn’t make her feel protected the way Grant did.

  Lord, she really needed to like that a lot less. She didn’t need Grant taking care of her.

  But then he put his hand on her shoulder and started rubbing.

  Okay, she didn’t need him to take care of her. But damn if she was going to fight it. She was independent. She lived alone, helped Zoe run their business, took care of her friends and family when they needed her. If a big, hot guy who could melt her like butter on a muffin wanted to rub her shoulder—or anything else of hers—she was not going to say no. Independence didn’t have to mean using a self-massager… on any part of her body… did it?

  His thumb found a knot in her shoulder, and she made a soft moaning sound without meaning to.

  “Jocelyn.” His voice was softer now. Less angry. Maybe even a little amused.

  She forced her eyelids open, not having realized they’d slipped shut, and sat up straighter as she found she was leaning into his touch. “Um…”

  His expression was definitely more relaxed now. “Who’s Alicia?”

  “My doctor. Nurse practitioner actually.”

  His frown was back. “She’s not even a doctor?”

  “She’s great,” Josie protested.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t pull the you’re-not-even-a-real-doctor thing on her,” Zoe said. “She’s brilliant and beloved.”

  �
�But she’s not an orthopedic specialist,” Grant said.

  Josie’s eyes widened. “I don’t need an orthopedic specialist.” Lord, she could have sworn she heard her wallet whimper in the other room just from the word specialist. Her shoulder throbbed a little more too.

  “You might. What if this is a rotator cuff tear and not just tendonitis?” he asked.

  “Well…” Shit. This really could not be a rotator cuff tear. She didn’t have the money for that, but she also didn’t have time for that. Zoe didn’t have time for that. Buttered Up was a two-woman job.

  “Maybe I just need more massages.” She literally batted her eyes at him. She liked him protective, but she didn’t like him pointing out truths that she didn’t want to think about. “Last night my shoulder felt great,” she added.

  Grant froze at that, clearly surprised. His gaze locked on hers, hot and dark. “Well, I’m no expert, but I’m aware that endorphins can be powerful things.”

  She nodded, darting her tongue out to wet her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she felt heat tingle through her belly and between her legs. Yeah, see, all she needed was more Grant.

  “So maybe I just need another dose of those,” she said. She definitely did. Regardless of what the hell was going on with her shoulder.

  “Endorphins only cover things up,” he said, dragging his eyes back to hers. “If you have an actual serious medical issue, you need to get it looked at.”

  “Maybe you’re just overreacting,” she told him. But there was a niggle in the back of her mind. Not the one that said having him worry about her was kind of nice. The other one. The one that reminded her that Alicia had also mentioned something else that could cause stabbing pain in the shoulder blade area that came and went. And there was the other niggle that reminded her that she’d had pain two days ago in her stomach.

  “Maybe I am,” Grant said, agreeing with her overreaction comment. “But I’d rather assume it was something worse and be wrong than risk underestimating it.”

  She tilted her head. “Why is this bothering you so much? I didn’t drop your canister.”

  He opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then looked at a spot over her head. Then met her eyes again and said, “I think you know. It’s the same reason I’m still in Appleby after deciding I was going to leave two weeks ago.”