Babycakes

by Donna Kauffman

  “Are you?” She grinned against his mouth as he kissed her again. “So, wanna come see my shop plans?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Laughing, Kit directed him to a different door off the kitchen, which led up a very narrow staircase to the second floor, and provided him with a very delightful view as she climbed up ahead of him.

  “Fair warning,” she said as she opened the door, “it’s a disaster. And not just the storage side. I haven’t had any time—”

  Morgan cut her off by taking her hips in his hands and turning her around and into his arms. His mouth was on hers a moment later, and he backed them into the room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. “Funny,” he said, still kissing her, “I don’t notice the mess at all.”

  She smiled, then sighed and tipped her head back as he trailed kisses along her jaw to just below her ear.

  “I’ve been dying to do this since we walked into the shop,” he said, continuing his delicious journey as he slid his hands down her back, over the curve of her backside, and pulled her to him. “Dying.”

  “I know,” she managed. “I’ve been dying for you to do this since you dropped me off the other night.”

  He grinned, loving her honesty and that she felt comfortable telling him what she was thinking. “I really wanted to see you yesterday.”

  “I know, and I wish we could have made that work.” She nudged his face back to hers and looked into his eyes. “But, you’re here now.”

  His eyes widened. She couldn’t possibly mean—but then she was tugging at his apron ties and, well, no one had to tell him twice. They all but ripped the clothes from each other. No teasing, no toying.

  “You know,” he said, scooping her up so she wrapped her legs around his hips. “We don’t always have to—”

  “We don’t,” she agreed, breathless. “Except, right now we do,” she countered, then took his mouth in a kiss that went straight through him and sent any thought of stopping flying right out of his head. If he’d thought about carnal desires before, she was shedding a whole new light on her most carnal desire right at that moment.

  He didn’t even ask where the bed was, instead turning and backing them up against the nearest wall. He hiked her up, still kissing her, as she wrapped herself more tightly around him.

  “Hold on,” he said, and slid her slowly down, pushing inside her. They growled, already moving with each other even before he was fully sheathed.

  “Have I told you,” he ground out, as he took her . . . and she took him right back . . . “how much I love . . . that you’re really . . . really . . . safe?”

  She gasped as he pinned her against the wall and drove deeply into her, but she was moving right along with him. Then there was no more talk. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, her heels into his back as she found his mouth again and slid her tongue inside, matching the rhythm of him sliding into her.

  It was fast, furious, and over far, far too soon. He had to forcibly swallow a shout when he came, shaking with the intensity of it. His knees threatened to buckle, but he braced against the wall, waiting as she continued to shudder, both of them breathing as if they’d run a marathon. He kissed the side of her neck, then nipped her ear lobe. “You’re . . . that was . . .”

  “I know,” she breathed. “Right?”

  They let out a breathless chuckle at that, and he was half stunned they’d done what they’d done. Not that he was complaining. Finally, he shifted her off him, and let her feet slide to the floor, then rolled so his back was to the wall, and held her tucked against him, both of them still a bit wobbly-kneed.

  “You know . . . I do have a bed.”

  “Yes,” he said, still working on even breathing. “But it was way, way over there somewhere.” He tucked her head to his chest and rested his cheek on her hair. “And the wall was right here.”

  “Walls. So handy like that,” she managed. “I will never look at them the same way.”

  “Me, either,” he said with a surprised chuckle. When he’d followed her up the stairs, it had been with the notion of torturing them with the chance to kiss each other hello in the way he’d truly wanted to. He’d never imagined this. Much less that she’d be the one to instigate it. “We should probably get dressed.”

  “Probably.”

  “Go downstairs. Be responsible adults.”

  “Alva is a responsible adult.”

  “True.”

  “We’re always the responsible adults.” Kit leaned her head back then, and he looked down into deep green eyes that were sated and content, but still had a bit of the devil in them. “It’s nice to know we don’t always have to be.” She reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him again, taking her time and letting the emotion they hadn’t expressed during their wild animal coupling shine through.

  He let her lead, let her show him, let her express herself. . . as his heart pounded for entirely different reasons. She smiled up into his eyes as she finally broke the kiss, then settled her cheek against his chest, nestling in his arms as if it were her natural, rightful place.

  And it was. If there had been any doubt he was in love with her, that moment ended the debate.

  Chapter 20

  “Baxter has meetings all this week, so we’re going to get our Christmas tree on the weekend,” Lani said as she cored a row of cupcakes. “He found a place about an hour and half from here where we can chop down our own, go on a hayride, the whole thing.” She paused between coring out the centers of the rack of vanilla bean cupcakes in front of her. “You know, I definitely don’t miss the snow and the cold, but it’s not the same, buying your tree from some parking lot. Riley said she and Quinn are going to tag along, even bring Brutus. Can you imagine him on the hayride?”

  “He could be the hayride.” Charlotte was filling pastry bags with almond buttercream frosting to top her cardamom chocolate cupcakes.

  Everyone chuckled.

  “Isn’t that waiting a bit long?” Alva asked. “I’ve had mine up since the day after Thanksgiving. A Liles tradition.”

  “We were going to ask if you wanted to go with us,” Lani asked.

  Alva scoffed. “My dear, not to put a damper on your own enthusiasm for those real trees with all their falling needles and watering requirements, but until you’ve seen the magnificence that is my seven-foot white tree, tipped with silver, you simply haven’t lived.”

  “Well, no, that is true. Clearly, I have lived a life of neglect and deprivation,” Lani teased.

  “Yes, well, dear, we can’t all be on the forefront of modern décor.”

  “True,” Charlotte said. “Although, one year, when Lani and I still lived in New York, we did wrap a single string of lights around our very tiny and very pathetic fake ficus tabletop tree. We made sandwich baggie florets, which we spray painted and then used metal bread bag ties to affix them to the branches.”

  “Yes, it was truly a . . . statement of some kind,” Lani added, “right up until the heat from the lights created a noxious fume from the spray paint that almost got the restaurant below us shut down by the health department.”

  “Ho ho not,” Charlotte deadpanned.

  “Well, dears, not everyone appreciates creativity. I’m sure it was . . . quite lovely.”

  Kit hid her own smile, but she caught Lani and Charlotte exchanging grins and had to swallow a snicker. “I’d love to see your tree, Alva.”

  That had Lani’s and Charlotte’s expressions instantly changing to ones of warning and chagrin. Charlotte tried the throat slash maneuver, but . . . it was too late.

  Alva had already lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. “Why, Kit dear, I’d love to show it to you.”

  “Every ornament has a story,” Lani said brightly while shaking her head behind Alva’s back and crossing her eyes, as Charlotte pantomimed slowly choking to death.

  “Every one of them,” Charlotte added with equal, overly enthusiastic cheer.

  Kit determinedly did no
t look at either one of them and focused on Alva. “Sounds sentimental and lovely.”

  “Every year I have a new theme.”

  “Oh.” Kit struggled to maintain her smile. “Really. Themes. How . . . interesting. And every year has its own stories?”

  “Why, yes. I wouldn’t put just anything on my tree. I have to be inspired. Usually, I decide right after taking down the old one, but it depends. Then I spend the whole year finding just the right things. Every ornament I choose has a reason for its inclusion.”

  “Sounds really . . . amazing.”

  “Seven foot tree,” Charlotte reminded her, working hard to keep the edge of snark from her tone. “So many ornaments.”

  Kit sent Charlotte a quick glare as Alva came around the table to her side. “I have pictures of last year’s tree here on my phone. I got this last year, too. They call it a smart phone, but my goodness, it’s far more incredible than merely smart. Look.”

  “What was last year’s theme?” Kit asked as Alva handed her the phone after she opened the photo file. “Oh. Look. Cats. Lots and lots of . . . cats.” She clicked through the first handful of photos. “Who knew cat ornaments came in so many . . . styles.”

  Lani and Charlotte had to turn back to their worktables, but Kit could see their shoulders shaking with barely restrained mirth. Well . . . they’d tried to warn her.

  “The year before that, it was pineapples.” Alva took the phone back and opened a new folder.

  “Pineapples. Wow. Seems like it would be hard to find enough ornaments to really do the tree justice.”

  “Oh, it was, dear. One of my biggest challenges. I had to make more than a few myself, just to keep it from looking sparse.” She handed the phone back to Kit. “See?”

  “Oh . . . my. Yes.” Kit kept her attention on the phone and didn’t dare to so much as glance in Lani’s or Charlotte’s general direction. “How . . . unique.” She handed the phone back to Alva and asked the obvious question, but mostly so she could get those pictures out of her head. “So, what is this year’s theme?”

  Alva clasped her phone in hands and propped them beneath her chin. “Angels.” She reached out and took Kit’s arm, and squeezed. “We’ve had a few more angels in heaven this year . . . and well, a few more have come to live with us right here on Sugarberry.” She looked up at Kit, her eyes a bit shimmery.

  Kit’s were, too. “Oh, that’s . . . thank you,” she said, sincerely touched. She hugged the smaller woman, and saw Lani and Charlotte had turned around and were looking all sentimental.

  For shame, Kit mouthed over Alva’s head, wagging a finger at them. For shame.

  “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble decorating this season,” Alva said as she straightened and smoothed her apron. “If you’ve any you want to include, I think that would be wonderful.”

  “I—I don’t have any of my family’s ornaments . . . or mine. My sister . . .” Kit trailed off, not wanting to go there, or she would start crying in earnest. “But I’ll start to look when I’m out and about. I’d like to contribute one if I can.”

  “That would be lovely, dear,” Alva said. “Birdie is going to have one for the tree, too.”

  Lani sniffled loudly. “Oh . . . group hug! Group hug!” She and Charlotte bustled around the tables and they all hugged in the center of the room.

  “I can’t believe how much my life has changed in such a short time,” Kit said, sniffling, too. “I couldn’t have imagined this or any of you. You’ve all become so important to me so quickly. I don’t know what to say, except, thank you for taking me in like this, making me so welcome.”

  “You were due,” Alva said, patting her on the back. “And we’re happy to have you.”

  After another squeeze and a few self-deprecating laughs over their huddling in the middle of the kitchen, being all sniffly together, they each went back to their respective tables and back to work on their cupcakes.

  Since only cupcakes made from Lani’s personal, original recipes were sold in her shop, Kit had asked the night of her first after-hours bake what they did with the cupcakes made in Cupcake Club. Mostly, they were donated to various groups and causes, spreading cheer and goodwill, and so it was a win-win thing all around.

  Lani looked across the kitchen at Kit. “So . . . do you and Morgan have tree-buying plans? Want to join us?”

  Kit girded herself for the latest round of “let’s out Kit and Morgan as a couple.” She should have kept Alva talking about her trees. “I have no idea what he and Lilly plan to do about a tree this year.”

  As one, all three women paused, turned, and leveled her a look. Really?

  It was Alva who spoke up. “Dear, I don’t know why you insist on pretending you’re not seeing each other. It’s been a week since you all came that day and made pie together, right here in this kitchen.”

  “Lilly wanted to see Babycakes,” Kit explained. “She was confused about how that business will work—still is. She really liked the peanut pie on Thanksgiving, so I thought it would be fun to teach her how to make it.”

  “Like you were taught when you were a little girl,” Alva said pointedly.

  “Yes, like I was taught.” Kit whisked flour and spices together, pretending to be oblivious to Alva’s meaning. “Lilly showed me some collages she made with Birdie—and isn’t that just the most wonderful thing?” Hoping to distract Alva from the conversation, she continued. “I think that’s all the Christmas present I need this year, seeing Lilly and her grandmother enjoying each other, especially after that rocky start.”

  “Oh my yes,” Alva agreed. “Birdie is simply rhapsodic over it. I have never seen her so happy. She said to me the other day how it’s helped her begin healing after the tragedy of losing her poor Delilah.”

  “It’s worked out to be a good thing for Morgan, too,” Kit added, relieved at the topic change. “With Lilly not in school yet, having Birdie spend time with her has really allowed him to get a leg up on starting his practice here.”

  “Well, now, sounds like the two of you keep pretty well in touch, seeing as you know all about his day-to-day doings. ” Alva’s razor sharp gaze landed back on Kit, even as she kept an innocent smile on her face. “I think it’s wonderful you’ve overcome that silly misunderstanding.”

  Kit sighed. She should have known better. Alva was like a pit bull. “You mean . . . about him being a Westlake? He is a Westlake.”

  “Well, dear, I’m just glad it hasn’t stopped you from taking that first step together, that’s all. A man’s family, who he’s from, is important and all, but seeing what he’s done for himself and for his darling niece, I believe he’s become successful despite, rather than because of his roots, and he should be commended for that.” Alva pointed a spatula in Kit’s direction, flinging small bits of salted caramel in her general direction as she punctuated her comment.

  “You could do far, far worse than that man, believe you me. Besides, the three of you look just darling together.” She sighed, clasping the sticky handle in both hands. “And the way he looks at you?” She fanned herself. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  “They’re both googly,” Lani said. “I’ve said so since day one.”

  Kit dropped her chin. She knew when to accept defeat. Since their day on the beach, she’d crossed paths with everyone, in and around the shop, and they’d each taken turns trying to wheedle it out of her. Collectively, she never stood a chance.

  “We’re just . . .” Kit set her bowl and whisk down on the worktable and looked at their hopeful faces, thinking she was lucky Franco and Dre hadn’t made it over the causeway that evening. God only knew what they’d have gotten out of her. “We’re getting to know each other better.”

  Immediately, their expressions brightened and they opened their mouths to say something all at the same time.

  “But we’re trying to keep it low key,” she cautioned. “Lilly doesn’t need to get her hopes up about anything. She has made many friends here and, for now
, I’m just one of them.”

  All three women sighed quite happily.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Lani said. “And yes, I know, I know . . . we’ll be careful with Miss Lilly, but that doesn’t mean we can’t tell you how much we like Morgan and you, and the two of you together is just really wonderful.”

  Charlotte and Alva were nodding along with her.

  “And isn’t life so much better when you’re having regular sex?” Alva asked.

  Lani, Charlotte, and Kit choked a little at that. But Lani and Charlotte were snickering as they looked at Kit speculatively, and Kit knew her beet red cheeks defeated any possible chance she had of denying it.

  Alva smiled sweetly. “I mean, it’s just us girls here. Surely we can be honest with each other.”

  Lani turned her speculative gleam on Alva, tapping her corer against her other hand. “So . . . does this mean that you and Hank . . . ?”

  Charlotte and Kit turned to Alva and gave her the same speculative look. Kit’s expression might have been extra twinkly. After all . . . fair was fair.

  “Now, now, dears, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Alva replied, but surprised them by adding, “And Hank . . . well, he’s not my Harold. No one could replace that dear man.” She sighed, then looked up at them. “But, I must admit, having the attentions of a nice looking gentleman does put a little lift in a girl’s step.”

  She looked so cute and twinkly, all Kit and the other two women could do was beam right back at her.

  “Well, I’m happy for both of you,” Lani said, then looked at Kit. “We had our doubts, too, you know. About his family. They certainly didn’t do right by Birdie, quite the opposite.”

  “What do you mean?” Kit asked.

  “Blocked her from seeing her own flesh and blood, like her kind wasn’t good enough to be seen around the fancy place they live in,” Alva explained. “When Delilah married into the family, Olivia about had a stroke, then immediately set about trying to train the girl to not be an embarrassment. Hounded her—shamed her, if you ask me—into leaving her poor mother behind.