She would, Piper told him. She’s almost as bad as he is. It’s like she had all this pent-up creativity inside her, and Ollie pried the top off, and it’s now spilling out all over the place.
Grant couldn’t help but grin at that. Whitney needed a chance to be innovative and have some fun with her work. The company had been in her family all her life. She knew it inside and out, and it clearly meant enough to her that she’d stayed on after her family sold it. She needed a chance to be a part of its growth, and if she had some things she’d always wanted to try, they needed to tap into that. For her sake, and for theirs. The woman knew the market and the product and the factory better than any of the rest of them ever would. They absolutely needed to let her take the lead on any number of things.
Except pony rides at a snack cake baking contest maybe.
I blame you, Grant told Piper. I sent her to you when she was worried about Ollie overdoing. Why didn’t you stop it? He grinned, waiting for her reaction.
I’m very, very, very good, Piper texted back. But I think we both know that, at best, I can distract him or slow him down. I’ve never been able to really stop him.
Grant frowned. That sounded a little less confident and good-natured than he was used to from Piper.
And now he’s got her all caught up in his magical fantasyland. I think she’s a lost cause, Piper added.
That didn’t sound good. He definitely didn’t need two Oliver types on his hands. But more, Piper could not get sick of Ollie. Fluke Inc., and by extension, Hot Cakes, needed her. Ollie needed her, actually. Someone had to keep his feet on the ground.
Keep them apart until I get back, Grant decided. If they can’t brainstorm together, maybe we can keep this from snowballing until I can be there.
I’ll do my best, Piper said. But you should know that I’m “forgetting” to look into pony rides, the tent order “accidentally” got canceled, and I’m hiding his company credit card.
That’s my girl, Grant said.
I’m also considering putting a sedative in his orange juice.
Okay, maybe we don’t need to go quite that far, Grant said. He would not put that past Piper at all.
Fine. But I expect gifts. You know my size.
About 750 ml? Grant asked.
You’ve got it.
He’d definitely get her a bottle of the Disaronno Riserva amaretto liqueur she loved. Even though it was almost four hundred dollars a bottle.
And you’re not quitting. Ever, he added.
I’m not quitting, she agreed. Then a moment later sent a second text: Today.
Though they joked about it all the time, that last word seemed ominous suddenly. Dammit.
He would deal with all of that when he got back to Appleby. He couldn’t believe he was adding Whitney to the list of issues though.
He quickly filled a plate at the buffet table and grabbed two glasses of champagne before heading for the table where Josie sat with four of the women from his seminar.
“Well, one of us reads out loud and the other does the foot rub,” he heard Josie say as he approached.
Grant set the little glass plate next to Jocelyn’s elbow as the women at the table all oohed together.
“You are so sweet,” one of them said to him as he took his seat.
“Oh?” He glanced at Jocelyn. “Why do you say that?”
“They were asking about what it’s like to be married to you,” she said, smiling at the plate.
It was covered in petit fours. Piper had, of course, handled the catering menu for the reception after the seminar. But she always did finger foods—hors d’oeuvres and little cakes and tarts—and a selection of drinks.
He also handed Josie a glass of champagne.
“I was telling them how romantic you are. How we’re really homebodies and like to just be together, doing simple things.” She accepted the glass and took a sip.
Okay, so they were going to make up stories about their marriage. It didn’t really matter what these women thought of him, or his and Jocelyn’s relationship, and this could be fun.
“Well, I hope you told them about how I showed up at your work and whisked you off for a weekend getaway to Paris,” he said, helping himself to a little cake.
Vanilla with raspberry filling. Yum.
“Paris? Wow. I thought you said you hardly travel other than back and forth to Chicago,” one of the women, Cristy, said to Jocelyn.
Jocelyn smiled at her as her hand settled on Grant’s thigh and she squeezed. “Oh well, there have been a couple of trips. But we mostly just go back and forth between here and Appleby,” she said. “Grant loves his work so, of course, the seminars are really important, but Appleby is truly home.”
Okay, so he’d definitely missed the intro to the conversation. But this was interesting. Maybe this would give some insight into how Jocelyn thought a perfect marriage would look.
“Appleby is a sweet little town,” he agreed. “But obviously there’s not as many business opportunities there.”
Jocelyn squeezed his thigh. “Oh, but honey, I told them all about Hot Cakes.”
“Yes, that sounds like so much fun! Making cake for a living!” This came from Margaret. “Of course, Jocelyn does that too. It’s so interesting that you’re both involved with baking but in such different ways.”
Grant put his hand over Jocelyn’s on his leg, peeling her fingers—and fingernails—away and lacing their fingers together. “I’m very proud of what Hot Cakes means to the town,” he said sincerely. “But Jocelyn understands how important these seminars are to me too.” She did. She’d just told him so at lunch.
“Which is why I love traveling back and forth to Chicago with him,” Jocelyn said.
“Well, not to mention the bright city lights, the high thread-count sheets, and that very special cake frosting you love so much from our favorite restaurant.”
She nearly broke his finger as she smiled sweetly at the other women at the table. “We do have fun traveling too,” she said. “But nothing beats cuddling up on the couch together with an old movie and the chocolate cinnamon popcorn that Grant invented just for me.”
“Chocolate cinnamon popcorn?” Ashley, another seminar attendee repeated.
“Sweet and spicy, just like him,” Jocelyn said.
“Wow, I just don’t picture a millionaire who teaches money seminars doing such… domestic, sweet things like inventing popcorn flavors for movie night.” Ashley looked at Grant with a soft smile. “That’s… awesome.”
Grant squeezed Jocelyn’s hand now. What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to be promoting romance here. This was about female empowerment and independence.
“So, do you let Grant give you business advice?” Cristy asked. “I mean, it’s pretty great to have such a guru at your beck and call, right?”
Jocelyn laughed. “Oh no, but I don’t really need business advice.”
“That’s right, honey,” Margaret said. “We’ve got this.”
“Oh, I just mean, the bakery where I work is my best friend’s,” Jocelyn said, popping a petit four into her mouth.
“You’re not partners?” Margaret asked.
Jocelyn shook her head, and Grant had to swallow a sigh. He could see where this was going.
“No, I work for her,” Jocelyn said. She laughed. “I know nothing about books and accounting and stuff.”
Margaret, Cristy, and Ashley all looked at Grant.
“Oh,” Margaret said. “I guess I just assumed that Grant Lorre’s wife would be… a business owner. Or something.” She gave Jocelyn a smile. “I shouldn’t have assumed that though.”
“She has her own business,” Grant inputted. “The bakery is her friend’s, and Jocelyn loves her work there, so she continues to work with Zoe, but she has her own business as well.”
“Of course,” Margaret said. “That makes sense.”
But Jocelyn was frowning at him. “Well, I’d hardly call it a business. I do some baking on the side
.”
“Well, sweetheart,” Grant said, squeezing her hand. “Your customers pay you, obviously.”
“Sure, but it’s cash,” she said. “I don’t have a logo or business cards or anything, and I don’t even keep that close a track of things.”
Grant gritted his teeth. Not just because she was kind of making him look bad—which he recognized was not entirely fair since they weren’t really married and since it shouldn’t be a wife’s responsibility to make her husband look good anyway—but also because what did she mean she didn’t keep close track of things? Had she claimed her side income on her taxes last year? How did she account for her expenses?
“Wow,” Cristy seemed a little confused. “That’s… weird.”
“What is?” Jocelyn asked.
“I mean, he talks about how important it is to have full control over your finances, to be independent, and to always know that you could fully support yourself if you needed to. But then he’s married to someone who… doesn’t care about all of that.”
Jocelyn sat up straighter in her chair. “What? I’m independent. I could fully support myself if I needed to.”
She had been, in fact, right up until yesterday when they’d gotten married, Grant thought wryly.
Well, except for the health insurance thing. The entire reason for their wedding in the first place.
“So you have your own accounts and everything?” Cristy pressed.
“I do,” Jocelyn said.
“And he doesn’t help with your books?”
“He does not,” she answered.
She was squeezing his hand again, but Grant thought it was more just general tension than sending any kind of annoyed message to him.
“So you could walk away tomorrow and be totally on your own?” Cristy said.
“Of course.”
But he saw how Jocelyn chewed her bottom lip.
She couldn’t totally be on her own. That was entirely the reason they were married right now. She needed his health insurance. She couldn’t have handled that by herself.
Yeah, the reality of the whole thing had just hit him too.
He’d just taught a seminar about how women should always be financially independent, even when they were married, and that money shouldn’t be a reason that anyone stayed in a relationship.
But he had a wife now because she needed money.
He’d gotten married to take care of Jocelyn.
Fuck.
It wasn’t like this was a brand-new revelation. They’d both gone into this with eyes wide open. But how had he let this happen? In his mind, marrying her to help her through her health crisis had been somehow different from marrying because she needed money.
But it wasn’t.
She was dependent on him right now. It wasn’t long term. He wasn’t going to use it to manipulate her.
Still… it was the opposite of what he taught women sixteen times a year.
Dammit.
“Um, Grant?” Jocelyn asked, leaning closer.
“Yeah?” He realized that things were tense at the table. The other women were concentrating on their food at the moment.
“I think… we need to go.”
It was uncomfortable. He might have just lost three fans, but he didn’t really know how to smooth this over. Leaving it alone might be the best plan. He nodded. “Okay.”
She was gripping his hand again. Yeah, well, he was a little annoyed too, but they could talk about everything later.
Actually, what they needed to talk about was how he was going to make her financially independent before their marriage ended. She didn’t like to worry about numbers and budgets and spreadsheets? Too bad. She was going to learn.
“I think maybe…”
He looked at her and noticed she was suddenly very pale.
“Jocelyn?” he asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“What is—” But then he saw how she was pressing her hand against her side. Her gall bladder. Shit. He stood swiftly. “Come on.” He pulled her chair out and helped her to her feet, but she was having a hard time standing up straight.
“I shouldn’t have eaten those cakes,” she said. Her voice was tight.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he told her, bending and lifting her into his arms.
The fact that she didn’t protest told him everything he needed to know about how bad she was feeling.
At least she’d gotten hot sex, petit fours, and champagne before she’d had to have an internal organ cut out of her body.
Josie knew she was being dramatic and maudlin. But she felt yucky. Yucky being the perfect word to describe how she was woozy and a little sore and generally crabby.
Grant helped her through the lobby of his building. He was taking her to his apartment this time rather than back to the hotel. He’d decided that they should stay in Chicago for the first three days after her surgery so she could get past the worst of the recovery before returning to Appleby.
She was actually grateful about that. And that her gall bladder had decided that it needed to come out now while she was in Chicago. It wasn’t like she had a surgeon on stand-by back in Dubuque. The only time she’d even ever had anesthesia before this had been to get her wisdom teeth out. So she didn’t really care who operated on her. Chicago was, of course, full of fantastic doctors, and she’d had wonderful care at the hospital.
Now it was possible that she’d never have to tell her family or friends that she’d even had her gall bladder out. She might be a little sore for a few days after getting home—and she was going to have to avoid fatty foods for a while, including all the bakery stuff she loved so much—but she could cover all of that up.
According to Grant, as far as their friends knew, they were just having a fabulous time in Chicago, and he wanted to keep her here with him for a few more days. He’d left it to Cam to tell everyone.
Cam was the only one who knew the truth. Grant had asked him to call the insurance company and ensure that there would be no snags with getting the bills paid just because he and Josie had been married for only about twenty-four hours by the time she’d been admitted.
Cam had promised to handle it. Apparently one of Cam’s favorite groups to fight with were insurance companies.
Josie knew how the conversation with Cam as the messenger with their friends would go.
Cam would say, “Grant and Josie are staying in Chicago for a few more days.”
Zoe would ask something like, “Oh my gosh, they are? What are they doing?”
Cam would give her a give-me-a-break look and would say, “Probably fucking like rabbits, but I didn’t ask specifically. Would you like me to call him back and get the details?”
Then Zoe and Jane would exchange looks, and Zoe would say, “Do you think they’re falling in love?”
And Cam would groan and roll his eyes.
And Jane would frown and say, “Grant doesn’t seem like the in-love type. She’s so sweet. He’d better be nice. I will make him sorry if he hurts her.”
Josie frowned as she watched the numbers on the elevator lighting up on their way to Grant’s apartment. Grant didn’t seem like the in-love type. She’d known that from the start. And then last night during the reception after the seminar, he’d resisted playing along with her romantic tales of their marriage. What was that about?
Her thoughts wandered back to their friends discussing the prolonged stay in Chicago.
Surely Dax would say, “Grant’s a great guy. Nothing to worry about.”
But Jane would say, “Great guy and worthy of Josie are two different things.”
Which was so nice. Her friends were really great. They loved her, and they would want her to be happy.
She wanted to be happy.
She also wanted to be married for real. For good. Forever.
Suddenly she was sad. She knew she was melancholy partly because she was still feelin
g the effects of the anesthesia from her surgery and the pain pills. But it was real too. She really liked Grant. No, honestly, she was falling in love with Grant.
And now that her gall bladder was out, her time with him was on a countdown.
She sniffed and Grant looked over. “Are you okay?” he asked immediately.
He was sweet. He didn’t mean to be. Maybe he didn’t want to be, but he was.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Are you in pain?”
Yes, in my heart, her dramatic little inner voice said. “A little. Maybe. I’m okay though.”
He frowned, not looking convinced, but he dropped it as the elevator arrived on his floor. The top floor of the building. Of course.
He ushered her off and down the hall. He’d already moved all of their stuff from the hotel over here so all she had was a little plastic bag of items from the hospital. She was in a pair of yoga pants and a tee that he’d brought back to her. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore no makeup. She was as un-put together as he’d ever seen her. The morning at her house after they’d slept together with no sex, he’d seen her bedhead and with no makeup too. But this was post surgery. She was walking slowly, her head was fuzzy, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep.
“I’m so sorry about this,” she said as he let them into his apartment.
“Sorry?” he asked. “What the hell are you sorry about?”
“That this all flared up like this. This wasn’t how we’d planned it. Now you’re stuck with me until Wednesday.”
“Jocelyn.”
She was in front of him in the little hallway just inside his apartment door. She turned to face him.
“I’m not stuck with you,” he said. His expression and tone were both serious. “I’m actually… relieved. I’m glad the surgery is over and that you won’t have the painful attacks anymore. I’m glad you’re here, in my apartment and city, where I can take care of you. I know where everything is here, and here I don’t have to…”
That was all really nice, and Josie found herself very curious about the rest of that sentence. “Here you don’t have to what?”
He looked like he was going to try to avoid a direct answer for a moment, but Grant Lorre was nothing if not direct. “I don’t have to put up with your friends and family being here and doting on you.”
Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3) Page 21