Beyond the Orange Moon (Mathews Family Book 2)

by Adrienne Frances

  Life had its curveballs; that was for sure.

  * * *

  On Thursday morning, Lucy ran down the sidewalk and felt a bit more out of breath than usual. The day was hot, yes, but she had so much on her mind that anything worked her up into a frenzy. Charlie Mathews had a way of leaving her winded—at times panting—and she just needed to run it all away.

  If only that were possible.

  This was a new route for her. She needed to avoid any and all things that made her think of him and running past his jobsite would not help with that at all. It would appear, however, that everything reminded her of him: a motorcycle, a truck, a soccer ball, a park bench … hell, at this point, even a street sign had her hot and bothered.

  She had received one text from him: How does six work for tomorrow?

  At first, her foolish, sex-driven mind had seen “sex” in place of “six.” It was a small mishap, but it was enough to make her bolt from her apartment and sprint for her life in order to lessen the steam.

  She shook her head and continued to run, inhaling and exhaling sharply. This was the fastest she had run in a long time. It actually felt good, too. Her chest stung and perspiration fell in long beads down her skin. Holy hell, she was worked up. Her mind wandered to thoughts of being with Charlie, straddling his strong body and rubbing her bare skin against his while he whispered everything he wanted to do to her. What would that feel like?

  Heaven. It was that simple when no one could hear her thoughts.

  She reached her apartment and bent over to catch her breath. She could have gone further. She should have kept going until she collapsed from exhaustion. Surely that would have quieted her drifting mind. Fainting from physical activity wasn’t something she had time for, though. She had five dozen cupcakes to plan for.

  She still wasn’t even sure how that had happened. One minute she was watching with hopeful eyes for signs that they liked the cupcakes. The next, she had her first official order. It was almost too much. And, as always, good things came with a price; Dylan proved that when she asked Charlie to help.

  She would be alone with Charlie for hours.

  There was something electrifying and, yet, so dangerous about that knowledge. On the other hand, though, something ate away at her every time she saw him: guilt. That seemed to be the most powerful feeling of all and it was in a constant tug of war with the thrill of being near him.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this. And she was certainly clueless as to how to explain the truth.

  * * *

  Lucy raced to unlock the door when she saw Charlie standing on the other side of it, tapping his finger against the glass. She stopped in front of him and smiled at the white grin he was flashing her.

  Here we go.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Lucy locked the door and turned to face him. His eyes traveled over her face, down her light blue dress, and then to her feet; then, without saying a word, he allowed them to travel back up her body before meeting her eyes once more.

  She tugged nervously at the end of her dress. “It’s hot back there with the ovens running and everything.”

  “Yeah, uh, no … you look nice.” He raked one hand through his hair and smiled.

  Lucy’s cheeks flared. “Thanks.”

  Charlie looked around the dark dining area of Lydia’s Delights. “It’s weird in here at night,” he said, making a face. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

  “Me, too,” Lucy grumbled, and pulled at his hand.

  Without protest, Charlie let her drag him into the kitchen. “What?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Nothing,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. Lydia knows I’m using the kitchen tonight. My kitchen at home isn’t practical for such a huge order.”

  “Okay,” he said, though his tone suggested he was on to her and knew exactly what she meant.

  In the kitchen, Lucy pulled out a chair for Charlie and gestured to it. “Go ahead and sit here. I’m just going to have you do small things.”

  Charlie took his seat and looked up at her with those green eyes. “I’m really worried that I’m going to mess this up,” he said with a small laugh.

  Lucy sucked in a breath and took a step backward. If she wasn’t careful, she would end up in his lap from the way he kept looking at her. “A monkey could do what I’m going to have you do.”

  Charlie’s upper lip twitched. “If you say so.” He picked up a small paintbrush. “We use Crayola paintbrushes?”

  Lucy unloaded silicone cupcake liners and melted tempered chocolate, placing them in front of him. “Yeah,” she said, a little bit of laughter in her voice. “You’re making the cupcake holders.”

  He kept his eyes focused only on her, which made her hands tremble.

  “Just like this,” she said, and held up a liner in front of her face. She dipped the brush into the chocolate and painted a thin layer inside the liner. When she was finished, she placed it on a baking sheet, and picked up another liner. “When this baking sheet is full, we’ll put it in the fridge so the chocolate can harden.”

  He swallowed hard at her choice of words. “That’s it?”

  “Well, no. After about ten minutes, you pull the tray back out and repeat,” she said. “But that’s it.”

  “What kind of cupcakes are you making?” he asked, observing the mixing bowls she had already begun to fill.

  “Cherry cobbler, vanilla, chocolate, and rocky road,” she answered, and couldn’t help licking her lips. The batter she had allowed herself to taste still lingered on her mouth.

  “Rocky road?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You can make a rocky road cupcake? With marshmallows and everything?”

  She narrowed her eyes and smiled. “I can do anything with a cupcake.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he said, and looked at her strangely.

  Oh, to be in this man’s head.

  “And we’re putting the cupcakes in these?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She shook her head when she realized she had made a mistake. “I mean, no. The cherry cobbler ones will go in a regular liner.”

  “I see,” he said, and eyed the chocolate in front of him.

  “So, anyway, there are two different kinds of chocolate here,” she said, pointing to the two pots of tempered chocolate. “This one is swirled with white chocolate and this one is just regular old chocolate. Use them as you want.”

  Charlie looked over the objects in front of him and then back at her. “Okay,” he said, and picked up a liner.

  Lucy walked back over to her waiting batter and snuck a glance back at him as he made careful strokes with the chocolate. He closed one eye and squinted the other as he zeroed in on his project. She giggled to herself when he stuck his tongue out in concentration.

  “Stop watching me or I can’t do this,” he demanded, never taking his one open eye away from the liner.

  Amused, she returned to finish the cherry cobbler batter. She mixed in a bit more lemon extract, then filled the cupcake pan and slid it in the oven.

  She rolled her cherries in cornstarch and sugar until they were completely covered. “What’s that?” came Charlie’s voice from right behind her, causing her to jump.

  “It’s the cherry layer for the cupcakes,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Charlie leaned over her shoulder and looked at the coated cherries. “What do you do with them?” His breath blew against her temple, causing her thighs to tingle and her heart to race.

  “I … when the timer goes off for the cupcakes in the oven, I’m going to put these on top of them and then cover them with the remaining batter,” she answered as best as she could, considering the fact that his presence had somehow made baking erotic.

  She certainly wasn’t in her Nana’s kitchen anymore.

  “Then what?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “They bake, we put whip cream on them when they cool, and we top it all off wit
h a cherry.”

  “And what about the rocky road cupcakes? Where are those?”

  “In the oven,” she practically whispered. His low voice hummed in her ear and tickled her skin. “When those are done and cooled, we’ll add the chocolate meringue and marshmallow frosting.”

  “Oh man,” he groaned. “I don’t even know what chocolate meringue is, but I want it.”

  Lucy leaned forward and giggled. Her hands were covered in cherries, cornstarch and sugar; she almost felt trapped in the bowl, unable to turn and face him. When she stood upright again, she could hear Charlie laughing behind her.

  “Let me know when you’re on that part so I can watch,” he said, and returned to his job.

  “Will do,” she said, and covered the rest of her cherries.

  “So,” he said as he painted, “how does one become a cupcake expert, such as yourself?”

  Lucy pulled open the oven and pulled out her chocolate cupcakes. She placed them on the cooling rack, and added heavy cream to the raw cookie dough for her cookie dough frosting. “I wouldn’t say expert,” she said after a few moments.

  “You’re making something happen over there with what I’m assuming is cookie dough,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “You’re something.”

  Lucy stirred her creation until it was nice and smooth and ready to spread. She shrugged as she thought about it. “I guess I take after my Nana in that way. She was always trying new things and I caught on.”

  “I guess you did,” he said, and placed a full tray of liners in the fridge. “That’s a dozen liners.”

  Lucy looked over her shoulder. “Good,” she said. “I need three dozen more.”

  An hour later, Lucy had all of her cupcakes out, cooling, and almost ready to frost. While she waited, she sat down with Charlie and showed him how to remove the hardened chocolate from the liners.

  “So, this is the easy part,” she said. She carefully popped the chocolate from the liner and put it back onto the tray, smiling at Charlie. “See? Easy.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Easy,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He picked up a liner and began the process that Lucy had just modeled for him. “And then we put the cupcakes in these, so everyone can eat it whole? No removing paper?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Amazing.”

  “So, how’s Jonah?” she asked, smirking. “I heard he and Grace had a lovely evening at your house.”

  Charlie raised a liner up to his eye to carefully pop out the chocolate. His lip slowly curved and a bit of humor appeared in his eyes. “I think, for you, the story came out a bit differently from the way I actually heard it.”

  Lucy lowered the cupcake liner in her hand and stared at Charlie, who still had that amused look on his face. She thought for a minute about what he meant, and then covered her mouth. “Oh, no.”

  Charlie placed a chocolate liner on the tray. “She had a good time,” he said with a laugh.

  “Poor Grace,” Lucy said, and tried to hold in her laughter. “How embarrassing.”

  “Nah,” he said. “It happens.”

  “So, is your house just one big bachelor pad, with parties and moaning?” She cringed at her own question. If there was ever a time to catch words in the air and shove them back in your mouth, this would be it.

  Charlie raised one brow and looked at her with a peculiar expression. “No,” he finally said, and went back to his task.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she practically whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m sure a lot of people think that.” He sat back in his chair and looked at her. “I’m a single father and I know that people are going to judge me.”

  “I’m not judging you. I know you’re a good father.”

  “How?” He really wanted to know, which was downright sad.

  Lucy shrugged and thought long and hard about how to get her words out. “Because,” she began, “I’ve witnessed it. You love Jack and he loves you. He looks at you in a way that I wish I could look at my father.”

  “What way is that?”

  “With total adoration. You’re his hero, Charlie. You’re his everything.”

  “When did he leave?” he asked, his voice gentle and sympathetic.

  Lucy sighed and thought carefully about the direction the conversation was heading. She didn’t want his pity; she had gotten along just fine without her dad and she would continue doing it the same way she always had. So what if she felt a stinging in her chest whenever she watched the father of the bride dance at weddings. In those moments, she was always comforted by imagining that her father felt nothing but shame when he saw such things—at least she hoped he did.

  “It’s not something I like dwelling on,” she said with a sigh. “He left when I was three and I haven’t seen him since. I know where he is—I’ve even passed him on the street a few times, but I didn’t say anything. I never will.”

  “No one can blame you for that,” Charlie said with a look of pure disgust. “I couldn’t do that to Jack.”

  Lucy laughed. “Charlie, I don’t think anyone could do that to Jack. He’s probably the most precious boy I’ve ever seen.”

  Charlie smiled at that. It was a warm, proud smile that did all kinds of things to her insides. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, my gosh, yes. He is so sweet, and funny … and … just … I don’t even know. I want to pick him up and squeeze him.” She stopped talking when she felt her cheeks glowing with red. “He’s a good boy,” she finished calmly.

  Charlie smiled and pursed his lips. “It’s nice when other people say that. I mean, I think he’s great and all, but I might be somewhat biased.”

  “You’re doing a good job,” she said, with every ounce of sincerity she had. She wanted him to believe it.

  “Still, even if you were a rotten kid, what your father did was terrible.”

  “Hey,” she said with a laugh, “I was not a rotten kid!”

  “I don’t know, Lucy. I’ve been on the other end of your lashings,” he said, winking one gloriously green eye.

  Lucy tossed a paintbrush at him and subdued the giggle she felt bubbling up in her chest. “We agreed to never talk about that again.”

  “I agreed to no such thing.”

  “Well, in my defense, I can assure you that I wasn’t drunk at three years old, so my dad never got the kind of lashing you did.”

  Charlie grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Even if you were the worst child to ever live, no father should ever leave like that.”

  Her chest swelled at his touch. She looked down at their joined hands and couldn’t believe how perfectly her fingers intertwined with his. “Oh,” was all she could seem to say.

  Charlie seemed to be lost in that same feeling until he finally cleared his throat and pulled away. “So, anyway, what about your mom?”

  “Hmm?” she asked, snapping out of her thoughts. “My mom? She’s—well—she’s something.”

  Charlie nodded. “I guess that says it.”

  “Hah, no. I love my mom. She’s a bit overbearing, though.”

  “Better to be overbearing than absent, though, right?”

  “I guess I never thought about it that way.” Lucy flashed him a thoughtful grin. “Who would’ve thought that Charlie Mathews would be so insightful?”

  “There are many things you don’t know about me, Lucy Marina Dalton,” he teased.

  “You just middle-named me,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Lucy flipped a cupcake liner over and began to pop the chocolate out. However, it cracked as it went flying out of the liner and both halves landed on the table in front of them. “Oh, no,” she said as she looked at the broken chocolate.

  Charlie bit his lower lip, containing the smirk she could see in his eyes. “That’s one way of doing it.” He held up a liner of
his own, popped out a perfect chocolate shell, and proudly displayed it in the air. “Do you need me to show you again?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, and picked up another liner. “I think I’ve got it now.”

  “Let me know if you need any pointers,” he said, and leaned back in his chair with a large grin.

  “I think you’ve got the rest of these handled,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going to start putting the toppings on.”

  “What do you want me to do with these once I’m done?”

  Lucy turned back around and put her hands on her hips to think. “Actually, Mr. Culinary King, you can put the chocolate and vanilla cupcakes in the liners.”

  Charlie popped out the last piece of chocolate. “Perfection,” he said, and held it up proudly. “I might be in the wrong business.”

  Lucy pictured him all hot and sweaty, his muscles flexing while he carried heavy loads from one place to another. “Nope, I think you’re doing well right where you are,” she couldn’t help but tease.

  Charlie flashed a clever smile and stood up. He followed her over to the counter and leaned one narrow hip against it to watch what she was about to do. “Is this the marshmallow part?”

  “Mmhmm,” she said with a nod. She covered a cupcake with the chocolate meringue she had mixed earlier, then placed a mini marshmallow on top, followed by a small piece of chocolate. She pulled out her culinary torch and turned it on.

  “What is that?” Charlie asked, a bit of thrill in his voice. “Wait. Should I get out the extinguisher?”

  “It’s a culinary torch,” she said, and tried not to laugh.

  Charlie leaned down to get a closer look and watched as she toasted the top of the cupcake. “Amazing,” he said.

  “You keep saying that,” she reminded. “I had no idea you’d be so astounded by baking.”

  “It’s an art,” he said simply. “Now I feel bad for eating cupcakes without ever appreciating what went into them.”

  Lucy stilled and stood upright. “It is an art. Thank you,” she said, and then continued on to the next cupcake.