Must Love Frosting

by Stacey Joy Netzel

“Really? That’s goodnight?”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  She huffed out a breath of frustration as she dropped her phone on the nightstand. The man had a habit of winding her up and then leaving her wanting so much more. Pretty much guaranteed her dreams were more likely to be sexy than sweet.

  She scooped up her sketch pad from the other side of the bed, and opened to a blank page to brainstorm ideas. An hour later, instead of a new cake design, she had an image of her newest recurring fantasy.

  Asher in bed. Shirtless. Covers riding low.

  Chapter 17

  Asher checked the time and cursed the multitude of mishaps that had kept him from arriving home by noon. Hell, even five or six would’ve been better than nine at night. He was tired, bruised and sore, and his stomach grumbled at the mouth-watering aroma of pizza from the pie he’d grabbed at D’Angelo’s after exiting the highway.

  But the moment he turned onto Hopewell Lane and saw Honor’s lights blazing, every ache and pain faded to the background. Eager anticipation raced through his veins and made it easy to give in to the urge to turn into her driveway instead of his. After being gone half the week, seeing her tonight was simply too tempting to resist.

  He caught a glimpse of her through the window, working at the kitchen island like the other night. Her long, red hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a plain white T-shirt underneath a dark apron dusted with white powder. He hoped the counter hid bare feet and leggings again.

  With the pizza box warming his palm, and a six pack of cold beer in the other hand, he stepped onto her front porch. His stomach pitched like when he’d lost his grip on the mountain face earlier in the day. Before he could knock, the door swung open and Honor’s beautiful smile took his breath away.

  “I knew it,” she said, a note of excited awe in her voice.

  His pulse skipped—until she walked right past him.

  Well. Color me invisible.

  The blow sent his ego to his knees as Asher slowly turned and followed her back to the driveway.

  “This is a ’69, right? Super Sport/Rally Sport combo?”

  She slowly walked around the Camaro. The way her admiring gaze traced each line of the sleek body he’d restored made him jealous of his own damn car. He wouldn’t mind one bit if she looked at his body like that.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I’m impressed.”

  He was even more impressed by the fact she stood back instead of running her fingers all over his custom, dusk blue paint job. He hated when people did that. Especially women who thought their hands on his car would turn him on.

  Then again, if he was being honest, Honor’s hands on his car would definitely turn him on.

  “I saw the back end of this baby in your garage the day after I moved in. Of all the classics, Camaros are my favorite.”

  She tossed him a quick grin as he recalled Mr. Collins’ ’57 Chevy catching her attention that first day he’d spotted her through his screen door.

  “I love that you skipped the stripe and rear spoiler. It looks so much cleaner without it. Sleek and sexy, and the black interior is perfect.”

  She was perfect. Baked like a goddess, gorgeous as hell, and old car aficionado? There wasn’t a whole lot more a guy could ask for. He decided he didn’t care so much she wasn’t looking at him. Then she ducked to check out the interior, and he ran his gaze over the curve of her perfectly shaped ass to where her leggings ended just below her knees, showing off toned calves, bare feet, and sexy red toenails.

  Thank you.

  “Ever see the movie Better Off Dead with John Cusack?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Of course. It’s a cult classic.”

  “My dad rented it for us to watch when I was about fifteen. That’s when I fell in love with this car.”

  “So you do have it in you,” he teased.

  “Well, I mean, with a body like this…”

  He smiled at her joke, but he sure as hell understood the hot body argument.

  She stepped back and ran her gaze over the Camaro one more time. He jerked his attention up when she did a quarter pivot to face him. His breath caught in his lungs when her gaze met his, her head tilted as a smile flirted on her lips.

  “Any chance I can drive it sometime?”

  If it keeps you looking at me like that, you can do anything you want, any time you want to.

  “Can you drive a stick shift?” he retained enough common sense to inquire. But then the question had him thinking of some other stick she could shift.

  Fuck. When did it get so hot?

  Suddenly he wished he had a free hand to push up the sleeves of his Henley.

  “I’m an expert at stick shift,” Honor said seriously.

  Asher valiantly tried to drag his mind out of the gutter and narrowed his gaze in mock suspicion. “How do I know you’re not just saying that because my car seduced you?”

  Her low laugh stirred his blood. “My dad taught me in his ’66 Mustang.”

  Oh, man, that was one hell of a car. “Hardtop or convertible?”

  “Fastback. Four speed manual transmission.”

  “Nice. All right, then, you can drive her.” Those green eyes of hers lit with excitement, but he held up a hand as his stomach rumbled. “Tomorrow. Right now, I’ve got hot pizza and haven’t eaten since noon, and…I want my two cupcakes.”

  Her wide grin told him she caught his adaptation of the Better Off Dead quote. “I hope you know you have to share,” she warned on her way past. “I got caught up in work and forgot about dinner.”

  “I wouldn’t have brought it in if I wasn’t willing to share.” He followed her inside, relishing her cake-scented wake as he watched the sway of her hips. “It’s the least I can do for dropping in uninvited a second time in less than a week.”

  Every inch of the kitchen island and back counter was occupied by a large square cake, frosting bowl and pastry bag, and a multitude of tools that looked like they had nothing to do with cake baking. Asher shifted direction to set the pizza and beer on her kitchen table.

  Honor brought over plates and napkins. “Is this going to become a habit?”

  “Depends on if you mind.”

  “That depends on your pizza toppings.”

  “Pepperoni, sausage, and fresh mushrooms.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” She lifted the box lid, then closed her eyes as she inhaled the aroma with a low, “Mmmm.”

  Asher shoved his sleeves up to his elbows as he stared at her mouth. It took everything he had to not reach out and pull her into his arms. He craved another taste of those lips while every inch of her luscious curves pressed against him. He wanted her making that sound of pleasure because of him, not the pizza.

  Reining in his over-zealous libido, he handed her a plate and offered a beer. A couple of bites into his first piece, he glanced at her island counter. “I can’t tell if you’re baking, doing construction, sculpting pottery, or landscaping.”

  She followed his gaze, then laughed. “I use the level to make sure one side isn’t higher than the other. The pruning shears are to cut the dowel supports for each layer.”

  “And all the other stuff?”

  Honor walked over to the counter to explain her use for the hammer, square, turntable and the rest of the tools while she finished her slice and he ate a second. After she washed her hands, she reached into the pastry box on the back counter before facing him with two chocolate frosted cupcakes that made his mouth water almost as much as she did.

  He prayed she wasn’t a stickler for the rules of this engagement. “I don’t have your plate.”

  She drew back with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no, now what?”

  He offered a hopeful lift of his eyebrows. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow?”

  “How do I know you’re not just saying that because my cupcakes seduced you?”

  When she scissored the treats up and down, he gave a bark of laughter. He wa
s seduced by both sets of ‘cupcakes’ within his view. “I give you my word.”

  After one last teasing moment of consideration, she set the cupcakes next to the pizza box before returning to the island. As she started back to work, he swiped up half his dessert and took a seat on one of the stools to watch her process with keen interest.

  His first bite of the chocolate cupcake brought forth a deep moan of approval. “This is so good…and the frosting…oh my God.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  Her pleased smile was directed down at her hands, and then she gave him a contradictory shy glance through her lashes that was so hot he gripped the edge of the counter and bit back another groan.

  Her gaze flicked to the raw scrape on his forearm before she dropped it back to the cake. “How was your trip? You were home later than you said.”

  “Were you watching for me?”

  “No.”

  That reply was so quick, he had to hide his grin with another bite of cupcake. After he swallowed, he gave her an abbreviated version that skipped the part about the fall that had him dreading how his body would feel in the morning. Especially his bruised shoulder. Even with the random surges of sexual chemistry, the dull throb of discomfort was starting to seep through again.

  “I don’t think that’s the whole story,” she said while transferring the frosted cake into a large refrigerator. She brought back two more naked ones a size smaller than the last, and proceeded to slice them in half horizontally with a tool that had wire stretched between two rods that curved up to meet on top. When he didn’t reply to her comment, she paused to arch her eyebrows at him, her gaze lingering on his tender left cheekbone.

  “A couple days with Rox and suddenly you’re psychic, too?” he groused with a grin.

  “No. But you’re scraped and bruised. What happened?”

  The concern in her too-perceptive gaze was like a soothing caress to his sore body. “A little slip, that’s all. It happens sometimes.” After the initial daze had worn off and he’d caught his breath, he’d been surprised to realize she was the first person he’d thought about while dangling from a rope nearly one hundred feet in the air. Had to make sure he got home to see her again.

  She piped a thick border of butter cream frosting along the top edge of the first cake layer as she asked, “You’re okay?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he quipped.

  She shook her head and scooped a blob of frosting from a huge bowl off to the side. He reached to swipe his finger along the edge of the bowl, only to have her reach over and smack his hand with her spatula.

  “Ow.”

  “Then behave. You have another whole cupcake over on the table.”

  “But the frosting is my favorite.” He grinned at the smile tugging the corners of her mouth. As she smoothed out the top of the cake, he said, “Tell me about you being an old car genius.”

  “My brother, sister, and I worked on my dad’s cars on the weekends we spent with him. I don’t get much time to do that anymore, but the four of us still go to the Castle Rock Cruise In each year. Dad’s cars have won a few trophies over the years.”

  “That’s awesome. I haven’t been to that one yet, but the Old Town Car Show in Fort Collin’s is a favorite of mine.”

  “Old Town is fun,” she agreed. “I haven’t been since high school.”

  “Hard to believe the first weekend of June is next weekend already. We could go.”

  Honor grimaced. “Unfortunately, I have two weddings next weekend. All week is going to be crazy.”

  He pushed aside his disappointment. “Summer is your busy season, isn’t it?”

  “Usually. Though this summer is going downhill fast.”

  Because of all the cancellations. “Sorry.”

  She didn’t miss a beat while placing the next layer of cake and repeating the frosting process from the first. “Again, not your fault. And Roxanna is trying to make it up to me. I don’t see us becoming friends or anything, but the cupcake sales are making up for some of the lost cake revenue.”

  “She’s not worried about you jinxing anyone?”

  “I still don’t think it’s even a thing, but she claims it doesn’t matter because I’m not making them for specific people, or for a specific event.”

  Made sense, he guessed. “Speaking of specific people, did my sister call you yet?”

  “Nope.”

  He frowned. “Damn. I thought for sure I’d changed her mind.”

  One of her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It is what it is. I may have to rethink my five year plan, but it’s too early to see how this all plays out to give up.”

  Asher drained the last of his beer and slouched in the chair as he watched her efficient movements. “What’s your five year plan?”

  “My own specialty cake shop. I’ll hire a couple of employees to help with the wedding cakes so I can book more, and maybe even branch out a bit. Kind of like The Cake Boss.”

  “Why can’t you do that now?”

  “For a shop, location is key, and I can’t afford that set of keys yet.”

  “And where is your key location?”

  “Well, an area like where Roxanna’s shop is would be perfect.”

  His heart gave a few fast beats and a squeeze of disappointment. Did she know he owned the building? Was she hinting? If she did, she was playing it super cool.

  He frowned, not liking the instant flare of doubt in his mind—especially since it stemmed from Brianna, not Honor.

  “Anything along or near Aspen Street, really.” She’d finished the layers and smoothed out what she’d earlier called a crumb coat over the whole cake before swapping that square at the fridge for yet another set of layers, another size smaller. “But I need to build up my savings again after buying this house. The initial setup for the shop will be pretty expensive.”

  He had almost told her he’d happily evict one of his tenants to give her space, but kept his mouth shut. First, that was his dick talking, not common sense, business sense, or even basic decency. And second, he’d been burned one too many times by someone wanting things from him, instead of wanting him. Honor hadn’t given any indication she would use him like that, but the thought of things taking that route with her twisted his gut into a sour knot.

  “What about asking your parents for help?”

  “No,” she stated with a firm shake of her head. “I’ll do it on my own or I won’t do it at all.”

  The finality in her voice raised his respect and eased his tension. With the noted exceptions of Rox and Elana’s daughter, Solana, most of the women he knew were happy to live off Daddy’s money. Even he and his siblings had taken stipends from their trust funds when starting out. The two youngest still cashed monthly checks, though in Shelby’s defense, she was still in college compared to Merit having graduated almost two years ago.

  “My best friend, Mae, built her construction company from the ground up, all on her own. No one gave her anything, and I want to do it the same way,” Honor explained as she worked. “It felt great when I signed the papers for this house knowing it was all from my hard work. It’s going to be that much sweeter when I see my name up above the doors of my shop.”

  He had the money to do that for her tomorrow. He’d do it, too, just to keep that gorgeous smile curving her lips. But her independence was to be admired and supported, not disrespected.

  Before she caught him mooning at her like a lovesick puppy, he pushed up from the stool. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “It’s right there.” She pointed to a door on the other side of the patio doors leading to her backyard.

  When he came back out, Asher swiped a second beer from the table and strolled around her living room. She shot him a quick glance, but otherwise was quiet over there in the kitchen. Having finished frosting the third cake, she’d rolled out a ball of white fondant and was using a metal cookie cutter to make flowers and leaves.

  It looked like she’
d be at it for quite a while yet, even though it was after ten. Exhaustion was beginning to edge in as he smothered a yawn before taking another pull off his beer. He knew he should go, and yet didn’t want to leave. As simple as it was, he liked just being in the same room with her, observing, talking. He wished he had his camera in hand to catch the quiet beauty in her concentration.

  After a brief perusal of the few pictures leaning against the wall waiting to be hung, he took his time looking at the framed photos on her mantle. “This your family?”

  “Yeah. Mom and Dad, my brother, Josh, and my sister, Glory.”

  He’d been correct that the red-haired guy from that first weekend was her brother. He shifted his attention to a picture of her, and two gap-toothed little blond girls, all three of them dressed as witches for Halloween. “Your nieces are twins?”

  “Yep. Annabel and Bailey are Glory’s girls. That picture is from last year. I’ve gone trick-or-treating with them and my sister since they were babies.”

  He drank in her happy smile in the picture with her nieces, wondering if she wanted kids of her own someday. He sure hoped so.

  Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.

  “The picture on the right is my friend, Mae, and her son, Ian.”

  He recognized the pretty blond from last weekend, too. Honor had spun around pretty fast when he’d caught them watching him cut the grass, but her friend had offered a cheeky wave before going inside.

  Shifting his gaze back to the family picture, he saw she took after her father in looks, but her sister was the spitting image of their mother. He recalled her parents had racked up seven divorces between the two of them. “Any half or step siblings?”

  “There were a couple steps from my mom’s second marriage, but they were adults already, and the marriage didn’t last long enough for any of us to become close.”

  His brows drew down in a frown. “I can’t even imagine that.”

  “Of course you can’t. Your parents have been together for thirty-five years.”

  His pulse skipped as he glanced back over his shoulder at that, but her head was bent low while she rolled a tool with a metal ball on the end along the edges of one of the cut out flowers.