Beefcake & Cupcakes

by Fennell, Judi

“I was working.” She didn’t want to discuss Gage with Cara. She didn’t even want to think about Gage. He hadn’t called. Not one word from him in the four days since then.

  Was his dancing really that much of a big deal that her discomfort with it put him off being with her? Was her insecurity?

  “Oh please. Tonsil hockey is not work. Unless he was paying you for it?”

  Lara threw a piece of fondant at her. “Your point?”

  “My point is that I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy.”

  But why did a guy have to make her happy? Why wasn’t she happy on her own?

  Actually, she had been before Gage. She and Cara working together at the bakery, being in her very own condo with things she’d picked out… She’d even thought about getting a kitten, something Jeff would never have agreed to. All of those things made her happy.

  Oh, not in the twirl-around-on-her-toes-singing-happy-songs kind of happy like being with Gage, but she’d been happy. Gage had just made her happier.

  That was a big difference, being happy versus happier. Her life had centered around Jeff; it didn’t around Gage. That was healthy, right? That allowed her to be herself, be who she wanted, do what she wanted. And if she wanted him to share with her, that was up to her, too.

  If he’d only call her again—

  Or she could call him. Nothing better for being in charge of her life and making her own decisions than calling up the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about and dragging him back into her life. Other women went through what she had with Jeff. Some had it a lot worse. It was time to stop letting Jeff define her post-divorce life, too, and if she wanted Gage in it, she owed it to herself to try. “You don’t mind having him around?”

  Cara raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? You light up like a Christmas tree, he does all the heavy lifting and hand-to-hand selling, and he brings us hotdogs. Why would I mind?”

  “Seriously, Car, am I crazy to think about him like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like—”

  The breath whooshed out of her as the realization hit her. “Like… I think I might have fallen in love with him.”

  Just saying the words aloud had her stomach twisting and turning and flipping upside down as if she were riding a rollercoaster. A really fun, sexy rollercoaster that she didn’t ever want to get off of.

  “If you think you do, Lar, you do. You’re not one of those wishy-washy types. When you love someone, you do it wholeheartedly. That’s why Jeff was able to do such a number on you. Why his betrayal hurt so much. You were the only one who hadn’t seen it coming.”

  That didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it only reinforced her insecurity. “What if Gage is the same way and I can’t see it again?”

  Cara got off her stool and walked over to her to hug her. “Gage is nothing like Jeff. Ever. And deep down, you know that. He’s shown you in ways Jeff never did. But you have to know it, Lar. You can’t go on my word. You have to be secure in what you feel for him and the trust you have in him for anything between you to work. If you don’t, you’re always going to doubt him and his feelings, and nothing will ruin a relationship faster than doubting your partner.”

  Cara was right. It all came down to trust: in what she felt for him, in what he felt for her, and in what she felt for herself.

  She liked herself. She was proud of herself. She’d taken her life back: in her business, in her home, heck, even with Mrs. Applebaum. Love was the next step. She deserved to find love again. To be loved, and if she was going to move forward with her life, she had to take the chance.

  Gage was worth it.

  She hugged Cara back. “You’re right, Cara. I do love him.”

  “Well no kidding.” Cara kissed her cheek. “And he loves you if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m not the one you need to ask.”

  “I can’t ask him that.”

  “I’d say, ‘why not,’ but he’s not the one you need to ask either.” Cara tapped Lara’s nose. “Do you think he loves you is a question, dear cuz, that you need to ask yourself because if you don’t feel it, it doesn’t matter what he says.”

  Chapter 32

  Gage stared at the piece of paper in his hand. Lara’s lawyer buddy had come through. BeefCake, Inc. had a permanent home.

  What a relief. He could finally have some semblance of a life. He wouldn’t have to make calls to book gigs for twenty hours every week anymore. He wouldn’t have to travel twice that long to those gigs—well, once the place was operational. Until then, he’d be pulling double duty since he was the general contractor for getting the building into shape. But at least they’d be able to count on a steady stream of income.

  And maybe he and Lara could work something out.

  He took another swig from his water bottle and folded the license, making a mental note to call Bryan when he got in the truck. It’d be a long phone call and he wanted to clean up J.C. McCullough’s back yard and get the hell off the property since he’d finished the gazebo. He’d been working fifteen hour days ever since the weekend to finish this project, determined to have the income rolling in and keep his mind off Lara.

  Not that it’d worked.

  But his lawn had gotten mowed and the shelf moved in the closet. Last night, he’d stopped letting Connor win their chess matches. Since they’d played so many games, the kid was on his way to becoming a master and no longer needed the confidence boost.

  But at night, when he’d lain in bed, he hadn’t been able to forget her. Had picked up his cell phone more times than he could count, his fingers hovering over her number, only to put it down without making that call because she deserved more from him. They all did. Hell, he did.

  But there was only so much of him to go around, and it wasn’t fair to ask her to put up with that. She should feel loved and cherished and wanted, and while he did feel all those things, flowers and phone calls could only convey that message for so long. It’d be different if he were serving his country or away on business, but in town? No excuse.

  You’re making excuses.

  Was he? God knew, he’d tried to figure out a way to make it work, but until he’d gotten the benefit numbers last night, he’d been coming up empty, what with the medical bills piling up and the supplies he needed for the next construction job. Not to mention his house needed a new heating system. And then there was the trip to Orlando that he knew was totally frivolous given everything else he needed money for, but Connor was only a kid once and he deserved something good to come his way.

  But now, with the benefit tally more than he’d dared hope for, and the steady income this license represented, he could look forward to more time on his hands once he got the place in shape. And with the income from the this job and the other two he now had time to finish, and Missy pulling in extra cash doing Cara’s paperwork—man, he owed Cara big time for that—he wouldn’t have to sweat bullets anymore over every medical bill that came through the door. Things were finally starting to turn the corner for good.

  Lara was so good.

  “So, that’s it? You’re finished?” The prick was back on his patio, again with the amber liquid in a tumbler, and a ridiculous pair of loafers on his feet that had probably cost more than Connor’s last MRI.

  It was really hard not to hate the guy, so Gage hadn’t bothered trying not to.

  Sour grapes.

  Possibly. But regardless of his own financial situation, this guy rubbed him the wrong way for more reasons than just money.

  Gage dropped the hammer into the tool box and picked up the packing material from the weather vane and shoved it into the box it’d shipped in. “Yep, that’s it. Lighting’s connected, too. You’re all set for the party.”

  J.C. rocked back on his heels and studied the gazebo.

  Gage dared him to find one thing wrong with it.

  “Nice work. Send me your invoice and I’ll have my accou
ntant mail you a check.”

  “Actually—”Gage pulled the invoice he’d printed out last night off of his clipboard—“here it is. If you wouldn’t mind writing a check now, I can close the books on it.”

  It wasn’t his normal M.O., but he’d changed the terms in the contract for this job because he’d wanted to have the least amount of interaction with Mr. J.C. McCullough.

  The prick raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think I have that amount in my checking account, do you? It wouldn’t be prudent to leave that much where anyone could hack into it. I have to move some money around.”

  “You can post date the check. I’ll cash it tomorrow.”

  “Oh it won’t be available until at least next week.”

  After the party. Gage gritted his teeth. The guy had known when the gazebo would be finished—had insisted on it. And he’d made such a big production about everything his “hard work and expertise” had earned him, surely the balance wouldn’t break his bank account.

  “Look, J.C.” He enjoyed the way the guy winced when he called him by his first name. “I did the job you hired me to do. And you signed the contract that specifically spells out when I’m to be paid. I’d like my check.” Or he’d undo the wiring—at the very least—but didn’t say so. He tried not to issue ultimatums, but this guy was on his bad side anyway, so he might break that rule if the guy didn’t cave.

  But cave he did. “Fine. But you can’t cash it until late tomorrow. Friday would be better.”

  Gage would be at the bank at 3:59 tomorrow afternoon.

  He gathered the trash, his tool box, and the miter saw, and put them in his truck while he waited for J.C. to write the check.

  “Don’t forget the lawn signs,” Prick said when he handed it to him on the driveway.

  Message received: the help was no longer allowed on the property.

  “I’ll get them on my way down the drive.” Gage pocketed the check and held out his hand. He might hate the guy, but business was business. “Nice doing business with you.”

  Prick considered his hand, but in the end, shook it. Gage knew he would; the guy was the kind to stick to convention which was why Gage figured he’d pay up if confronted. Bullies usually did when challenged.

  Gage wondered if the ex-wife had figured out the same thing

  Chapter 33

  “You know McMonster has called here six times in the last two hours to make sure you’re going to be on time? We lose power for six hours from last night’s storm, yet the damn phones still work. Care to explain the fairness in that to me?” Cara dropped the pink phone message slips on the prep table and shoved a pencil behind her ear. “Please let me tell him we can’t do the party. Please.”

  Lara looked up from the rose she was making. Number three hundred and seventy-five. Only twenty-five more to go. “No, Car, you can’t tell Jeff that. This is a job. It will help pay bills. Remember that and you’ll be able to handle it a lot easier.”

  “I just don’t get it. I really don’t. Of course, I don’t get anything anymore. Nick, you, Gage—he hasn’t called has he?”

  Every time Cara asked that question, it jabbed the fact that he hadn’t a little more into her heart—and needled her with the reminder that she’d decided to call him regardless and hadn’t. She’d been planning to, but then Cara had dropped that little “you have to ask yourself that question” comment and she’d been second-guessing herself ever since. And rightfully so since he hadn’t called her either.

  Seemed that taking charge of her life and risking her heart for Gage were a lot harder to do than standing up to Mrs. Applebaum.

  “The answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me, Cara. Now, can we focus on what we need to get done? We need to leave in under an hour and still have to get the van loaded.”

  “You want me to do that, don’t you?”

  “Not yet. But if you keep interrupting Jesse and me all the time, we’re going to be hard-pressed to make it on time.”

  Cara held up her hands. “Fine. I get it. I’ll go out and move some tree limbs or something. Seems like all I did this morning, too.”

  A storm had rolled in overnight and taken out traffic lights, downed wires, torn limbs off trees, and created general havoc for the rush hour. Rumor had it there’d been a tornado that’d bounced around town and done some damage, too. Jeff’s house had sustained some of it, so it was no wonder he was nervous about the party going well.

  Lara really wanted to tell his fiancée that it was an omen. She should run. Quickly. And not look back.

  She couldn’t believe he’d found someone else willing to put up with his crap. No, not someone else. Lara hadn’t put up with all of it. She just wished she’d gotten smarter sooner.

  Was wanting to be with Gage any smarter?

  She mis-piped the rose and had to start again. Apparently, it wasn’t smart if she couldn’t keep her mind on her job.

  She wiped Gage out of her mind as she wiped the rose off the pastry nail and started over. If only real life were as easy.

  ***

  “I should never have given you that check.” J.C. McCullough paced around the bottom of the gazebo and actually handed Gage the slate shingles to replace the ones that’d been torn off from the storm.

  Luckily, there was almost a quarter of a pallet left over from the job, and the shed where Gage had stored them hadn’t been damaged, but if McCullough kept up the chatter, Gage wasn’t sure he’d want to finish the roof in time for the party.

  “I knew you’d finished too quickly. If you’d taken your time and nailed these down properly, they’d still be in place.”

  Gage took the nails out of his mouth. “I did a damn good job, but nothing is going to withstand tornado-strength winds.”

  “You don’t know there was a tornado. You’re just saying that to cover your ineptitude.”

  Gage dug up a nail out of the rafter. The thing looked like a corkscrew. “It was a tornado.” He tossed it down at McCullough’s feet.

  The prick picked it up. “Now you’re tossing tetanus around? I called the bank you know. Put a stop on the check.”

  Gage didn’t bother calling his bluff to tell him that the check had been cashed at four yesterday like he’d planned.

  “Hey, I’m out here, aren’t I?” He’d had it with the guy’s attitude. The hell with referral business; it’d feel so good to tell the asshole off. “I came over right after you called and have been working my ass off the whole time.” In the drizzling rain, gathering shingles from the yard—and the pool—and sorting them into usable and unusable piles. Sadly, the unusable pile had been bigger.

  “How much longer is this going to take? The caterers are going to be here soon and the band needs to set up here.”

  Gage looked at what he had left to do. “You can have the band start setting up any time. Unless you’re planning to put them on the roof?” There went his sarcasm.

  Prick got it. And didn’t appreciate it. That was okay with Gage; he didn’t appreciate the prick.

  McCullough handed up the last of the tiles in his hand. “Can you handle the rest of it on your own? The caterers just arrived.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Go.” Please. But he didn’t add that. Now that he’d gotten rid of J.C. McCullough, he could find his rhythm and the job would go a lot faster.

  Except that one of the catering staff walked through the pool gate and Gage lost his rhythm completely.

  Lara.

  He was about to say something—what, he had no idea because the awkwardness of their last goodbye had been compounded by the fact that he hadn’t called her since—when Prick came out of the side entrance, walked up to her, and… kissed her on the cheek.

  Gage almost slid off the slate. Surely, Lara was going to slap him. Any minute now, she would. She wasn’t going to allow that asshole that kind of liberty.

  But she did allow it. Or at least, she didn’t do anything to correct the overly-familiar gesture—

  Wait a mi
nute.

  They looked a little too familiar. And that comment Cara had made about this neighborhood being where something happened/lived …

  The Prick patted her on the butt.

  Gage was ready to jump off the roof at that, but Lara finally slapped the asswipe.

  Gage let go of the death grip he had on the tile, thankfully before he’d drawn blood, but not before he’d realized something.

  Lara was the ex-wife. She had to be. It all made sense—as much sense as Lara marrying the Prick in the first place could.

  What on earth was she doing here?

  Gage mentally regrouped and got back to work, finishing the roof quicker than he would’ve thought possible. Interesting to see what he could do when motivated.

  He stopped.

  It was interesting to see what he could do when motivated. And what could be more motivating than being with the woman he loved?

  He was an idiot to not give it a try—as much of an arrogant, pompous ass as Prick over there for making the decision for both of them.

  He needed to talk to her. See if she felt the same way. See if she wanted to give it a shot.

  He climbed down the ladder, glancing up to see where she’d gone. She, Cara, and Jesse were wheeling in folding tables and insulated cupcake carts.

  He gathered up a couple more shards of slate off the grass and dropped them into his tool belt as he walked over. “Hey, ladies. You want some help?”

  “God, yes.” Cara didn’t even stop to think; she just leaned toward him with a large cardboard box. “These suckers are heavy. If you can hang onto them, I’ll set up the table.”

  Gage glanced inside. Two white dove sculptures. Prick was going for sickeningly sweet. “What flavor is this, cotton candy?”

  Lara looked at him with a secretive little smile. “Vanilla.”

  Gage chuckled. How freaking perfect. “Was that a special request or did he leave it up to your discretion?”

  “What do you think?”

  God, he’d missed her. With her eyes sparkling with mischief, it was all Gage could do not to set the stupid doves down right there and sweep her into his arms.