Beefcake & Cupcakes

by Fennell, Judi

  She humbled him. “Thank you so much, baby, but we’re not touching your money for him. I’ll make out okay. Don’t worry about him.”

  “I will and I can, and if I want to help you, you aren’t supposed to say no. Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

  “Well, sure but—”

  “It’s no different.”

  “Hey, I have a better idea of what to do with your money.”

  She arched her eyebrow again, but this time it was skeptical, not sexy. “What could be better than helping your nephew?”

  “Well, this would be helping him, but it’d also be for us.”

  “What is it?”

  “How would you feel about a honeymoon at a certain resort in Orlando, complete with castles and wishes and dreams? It’s supposed to be the happiest place on earth.”

  “That might be their slogan, but the happiest place for me, Gage, is right here. In your arms.”

  The End

  Thank you for reading Beefcake & Cupcakes. If you enjoyed this story, please help others find it by post a review on Goodreads, or Amazon, or Barnes & Noble—wherever you bought it—share a link, tweet about it, Facebook it… Everything helps in this new internet world.

  Turn the page to read an excerpt of book 2 in the series, Bryan and Jenna’s story, in Beefcakes & Mistakes.

  Chapter One

  He had a son.

  Bryan Lassiter stood at the end of the grocery store aisle and stared at the little boy three feet in front of him.

  The curly black hair was the same, including the identical cowlick above the right eye that drooped a little lower than the left, and the same dimple in his right cheek. The eyes, too, were the same. Those damned, cursed violet eyes that Bryan had hated ever since Julie Richardson had called them pretty in first grade. Him and Elizabeth Taylor.

  And now this boy.

  And if those weren’t enough, it was the birthmark on the kid’s arm that sealed the deal. Bry had the same one, shaped like a five-pointed star with a rounded tip on the bottom right spoke. Bryan had eventually had a tattoo put on top of it—in the shape of a star—but it was the same.

  He had a son.

  “Trevor? Where are you?” A pretty brunette rushed around the end cap, worry etched across her face. It softened when she saw the boy—the exact opposite of Bryan’s reaction.

  He didn’t know her.

  Oh, he’d slept with a lot of women in his life, but he did pride himself on remembering what they’d looked like, no matter how drunk he’d been—

  No. That wasn’t entirely true. Brad’s bachelor party had passed by in one drunken haze and there could have been a stripper involved…

  Considering Brad’s party had been four years ago, and the kid looked to be about three or so… Yeah, it looked like it was more than possible, though he’d never been so drunk he hadn’t worn a condom.

  Which have been known to break.

  Hell. Given that the kid looked like every one of his baby pictures, one night of debauchery and bad luck could have led to him having a son.

  “Sweetheart, I told you never to run away from Mommy. This isn’t the place to play hide-n-seek.”

  Bryan’s eyes flew to “Mommy.” About five-six, with curly brown, chin-length hair that she kept tucking behind her ears but which wouldn’t stay, high cheekbones, and wide eyes—blue or gray, he couldn’t be sure. Graceful movements of a dancer that would be lost in a strip joint, but the legs that went on forever definitely wouldn’t be.

  Had they been wrapped around him? Bryan felt himself grow hard just thinking about it.

  But then he looked at Trevor and his whole body got hard. If that little boy was his, she’d kept him from him.

  Did she even know who the father was?

  “I sowwy, Mommy.” Trevor stuck his thumb in his mouth and Bryan was even more convinced the boy was his.

  Lots of kids sucked their thumb, but it was the way Trevor played with his cowlick—just like Bryan had. Until his finger had gotten caught in the tangles and his older brother Kyle had laughed at him. Mom had had to cut his finger free and that spike of hair at the front of his head had been one more thing for Kyle to tease him about. It’d been the last time Bryan had sucked his thumb.

  “Yes, well, you scared me, honey. I don’t want anyone to take you from me, okay? You have to stay with me.” Mommy knelt down and hugged Trevor, the action tugging her figure-hugging tan pants low in the back.

  No tramp stamp, so at least he’d had some taste in women when he was drunk. Even strippers.

  Bryan shook his head. He of all people shouldn’t judge her. He’d done some stripping in his day and now owned an exotic dance revue, BeefCake, Inc. But he and his partner Gage ran a classy business and No Fraternization was the top rule of the house. Too bad she hadn’t prescribed to the same rule.

  “Why would someone take me, Mommy?” Trevor stopped twirling his hair with a lock swirled around his finger.

  Mommy smoothed a ring-less left hand over Trevor’s hair, disengaging the tangled finger, then slid her palm down to cup his cheek. “Because you’re a very special boy, Trevor. That’s why I love you so much. So you need to stay with me at all times and not run away, okay? Even if you’re playing.”

  Trevor nodded and Bryan felt as if he were looking in a mirror. “But why am I vewy special?”

  She pulled him against her and kissed his cheek. “Because you’re my little guy.”

  Bryan’s vantage point gave him the perfect view of the fierceness of her expression when she said it, the quick tightening of her bicep beneath the short sleeve of her t-shirt as she hugged him. She loved the kid. But obviously not enough to give him the father he deserved.

  Bryan had half a mind to tell her that, but supermarket aisles weren’t exactly the best place for airing dirty laundry. He checked the time on his cell. An hour and a half until the meeting with Gage.

  He slid his sunglasses on and pulled the baseball cap rim lower. He could hang around for a while. Follow her to see where she lived—and then plan when would be the best time to show up and discuss his fatherly rights.

  ***

  Jenna Corrigan hugged her son and tried to will her heart to stop thundering. God, she’d thought she’d lost him.

  Three years since he’d become hers, and she still hadn’t gotten over the feeling that somehow, some way, he’d be taken from her. And she didn’t mean by a stranger.

  What if the father came back? What if he wanted his son?

  Jenna squeezed her eyes tighter, hugged Trevor closer until he started to squirm and she had to let him go. Ah, to be so carefree.

  That’s what she had to focus on, not the fact that the guy who’d impregnated her sister and then skipped out might want to take on the responsibility he’d run from. Besides, she and Mindy had gone to a lawyer before her sister’s cancer had progressed to the terminal stage and they’d done the paperwork so that when the end had inevitably come, there’d been no glitch making Trevor hers.

  “Can I have some ice cweam?” Trevor slurped around his thumb.

  Jenna smiled. If only all of life’s ills could be made better with ice cream. “Sure, honey. What flavor?”

  “Wocky Woad. It’s my favowite.”

  This week. Last week it’d been peppermint stick.

  Jenna released him from her hug, her body instantly craving his closeness again. She hadn’t carried him inside her, but she might as well have. She’d slept with him every night for the first three months after Mindy’s death—more for her comfort than his.

  She stood up and put all thoughts of that from her mind. This was her life now. Trevor was her life. She had to go on. She would go on.

  She reached out her hand. “Let’s go pick some out then, kiddo.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Wet fingers slid into her palm and Jenna wouldn’t have it any other way.

  They headed down the aisle and Jenna caught the smile on a man’s face as he averted his head, the rim of the baseball c
ap obscuring his eyes. He’d been listening in. Probably a father himself, if that wry grin was anything to go by. Knew the relief she’d felt at realizing her child wasn’t gone.

  As always, the thud in her stomach hit with excruciating pain and Jenna paused for half a step behind the man. Would that feeling ever go away?

  “Can I have chocwate, too?” Trevor, as always, pulled her back to the present. A place that was so much better to be than their past.

  “There’s chocolate in Rocky Road, Trev. Bits and pieces.”

  “Oh. Okay.” His thumb went back into his mouth and he switched to her other side, the fingers that normally swirled his hair now gripping her hand. She should probably work on getting him to quit the thumb-sucking, but giving up a comfort thing went against the grain with her. She knew, first hand, how important comfort things were.

  Especially when life could be a little too tough without them.

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  Acknowledgments

  For as solitary as writing can be, there are always people around to help make it not so lonely. People with amazing talent and generosity, and I am so lucky to know one of them: Pat Shaw. A truly gifted writer, friend, and person. Thank you for everything.

  About the Author

  Judi Fennell has had her nose in a book and her head in some celestial realm all her life, including those early years when her mom would exhort her to “get outside!” instead of watching Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie on television. So she did—right into Dad’s hammock with her Nancy Drew books.

  These days she’s more likely to have her nose in her laptop and her head (and the rest of her) at a favorite writing spot, but she’s still reading either her latest manuscript or friends’ books.

  A PRISM Award and Golden Leaf Award winner, Judi is the author of the Mer series: In Over Her Head, Wild Blue Under, and Catch of a Lifetime; the Bottled Magic series: I Dream of Genies, Genie Knows Best, and Magic Gone Wild; the Once-Upon-A-Time Romance series featuring: Beauty and The Best, If The Shoe Fits, and Fairest of Them All; and the BeefCake, Inc. series, beginning with Beefcake & Cupcakes..

  Check out her website at www.JudiFennell.com for excerpts, deleted scenes, reviews, and contests, as well as the chance to discover a whole new world!

  Connect online at:

  Twitter.com/JudiFennell

  Facebook.com/JudiFennell

  Read on for Bryan and Jenna’s romance,

  Book 2 in the BeefCake, Inc series,

  Beefcake & Mistakes

  Chapter One

  He had a son.

  Bryan Lassiter stood at the end of the grocery store aisle and stared at the little boy three feet in front of him.

  The curly black hair was the same, including the identical cowlick above the right eye that drooped a little lower than the left, and the same dimple in his right cheek. The eyes, too, were the same. Those damned, cursed violet eyes that Bryan had hated ever since Julie Richardson had called them pretty in first grade. Him and Elizabeth Taylor.

  And now this boy.

  And if those weren’t enough, it was the birthmark on the kid’s arm that sealed the deal. Bry had the same one, shaped like a five-pointed star with a rounded tip on the bottom right spoke. Bryan had eventually had a tattoo put on top of it—in the shape of a star—but it was the same.

  He had a son.

  “Trevor? Where are you?” A pretty brunette rushed around the end cap, worry etched across her face. It softened when she saw the boy—the exact opposite of Bryan’s reaction.

  He didn’t know her.

  Oh, he’d slept with a lot of women in his life, but he did pride himself on remembering what they’d looked like, no matter how drunk he’d been—

  No. That wasn’t entirely true. Brad’s bachelor party had passed by in one drunken haze and there could have been a stripper involved…

  Considering Brad’s party had been four years ago, and the kid looked to be about three or so… Yeah, it looked like it was more than possible, though he’d never been so drunk he hadn’t worn a condom.

  Which have been known to break.

  Hell. Given that the kid looked like every one of his baby pictures, one night of debauchery and bad luck could have led to him having a son.

  “Sweetheart, I told you never to run away from Mommy. This isn’t the place to play hide-n-seek.”

  Bryan’s eyes flew to “Mommy.” About five-six, with curly brown, chin-length hair that she kept tucking behind her ears but which wouldn’t stay, high cheekbones, and wide eyes—blue or gray, he couldn’t be sure. Graceful movements of a dancer that would be lost in a strip joint, but the legs that went on forever definitely wouldn’t be.

  Had they been wrapped around him? Bryan felt himself grow hard just thinking about it.

  But then he looked at Trevor and his whole body got hard. If that little boy was his, she’d kept him from him.

  Did she even know who the father was?

  “I sowwy, Mommy.” Trevor stuck his thumb in his mouth and Bryan was even more convinced the boy was his.

  Lots of kids sucked their thumb, but it was the way Trevor played with his cowlick—just like Bryan had. Until his finger had gotten caught in the tangles and his older brother Kyle had laughed at him. Mom had had to cut his finger free and that spike of hair at the front of his head had been one more thing for Kyle to tease him about. It’d been the last time Bryan had sucked his thumb.

  “Yes, well, you scared me, honey. I don’t want anyone to take you from me, okay? You have to stay with me.” Mommy knelt down and hugged Trevor, the action tugging her figure-hugging tan pants low in the back.

  No tramp stamp, so at least he’d had some taste in women when he was drunk. Even strippers.

  Bryan shook his head. He of all people shouldn’t judge her. He’d done some stripping in his day and now owned an exotic dance revue, BeefCake, Inc. But he and his partner Gage ran a classy business and No Fraternization was the top rule of the house. Too bad she hadn’t prescribed to the same rule.

  “Why would someone take me, Mommy?” Trevor stopped twirling his hair with a lock swirled around his finger.

  Mommy smoothed a ring-less left hand over Trevor’s hair, disengaging the tangled finger, then slid her palm down to cup his cheek. “Because you’re a very special boy, Trevor. That’s why I love you so much. So you need to stay with me at all times and not run away, okay? Even if you’re playing.”

  Trevor nodded and Bryan felt as if he were looking in a mirror. “But why am I vewy special?”

  She pulled him against her and kissed his cheek. “Because you’re my little guy.”

  Bryan’s vantage point gave him the perfect view of the fierceness of her expression when she said it, the quick tightening of her bicep beneath the short sleeve of her t-shirt as she hugged him. She loved the kid. But obviously not enough to give him the father he deserved.

  Bryan had half a mind to tell her that, but supermarket aisles weren’t exactly the best place for airing dirty laundry. He checked the time on his cell. An hour and a half until the meeting with Gage.

  He slid his sunglasses on and pulled the baseball cap rim lower. He could hang around for a while. Follow her to see where she lived—and then plan when would be the best time to show up and discuss his fatherly rights.

  ***

  Jenna Corrigan hugged her son and tried to will her heart to stop thundering. God, she’d thought she’d lost him.

  Three years since he’d become hers, and she still hadn’t gotten over the feeling that somehow, some way, he’d be taken from her. And she didn’t mean by a stranger.

  What if the father came back? What if he wanted his son?

  Jenna squeezed her eyes tighter, hugged Trevor closer until he started to squirm and she had to let him go. Ah, to be so carefree.

  That’s what she had to focus on, not the fact that the guy who’d impregnated her sister and then skipped out might want to take on the responsibility he’d run from. Besides, she and
Mindy had gone to a lawyer before her sister’s cancer had progressed to the terminal stage and they’d done the paperwork so that when the end had inevitably come, there’d been no glitch making Trevor hers.

  “Can I have some ice cweam?” Trevor slurped around his thumb.

  Jenna smiled. If only all of life’s ills could be made better with ice cream. “Sure, honey. What flavor?”

  “Wocky Woad. It’s my favowite.”

  This week. Last week it’d been peppermint stick.

  Jenna released him from her hug, her body instantly craving his closeness again. She hadn’t carried him inside her, but she might as well have. She’d slept with him every night for the first three months after Mindy’s death—more for her comfort than his.

  She stood up and put all thoughts of that from her mind. This was her life now. Trevor was her life. She had to go on. She would go on.

  She reached out her hand. “Let’s go pick some out then, kiddo.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Wet fingers slid into her palm and Jenna wouldn’t have it any other way.

  They headed down the aisle and Jenna caught the smile on a man’s face as he averted his head, the rim of the baseball cap obscuring his eyes. He’d been listening in. Probably a father himself, if that wry grin was anything to go by. Knew the relief she’d felt at realizing her child wasn’t gone.

  As always, the thud in her stomach hit with excruciating pain and Jenna paused for half a step behind the man. Would that feeling ever go away?

  “Can I have chocwate, too?” Trevor, as always, pulled her back to the present. A place that was so much better to be than their past.

  “There’s chocolate in Rocky Road, Trev. Bits and pieces.”

  “Oh. Okay.” His thumb went back into his mouth and he switched to her other side, the fingers that normally swirled his hair now gripping her hand. She should probably work on getting him to quit the thumb-sucking, but giving up a comfort thing went against the grain with her. She knew, first hand, how important comfort things were.