Spiced

by Jamie Farrell

  Tonight, her heart was telling her that had been one hell of a kiss.

  And that was all she was willing to concede.

  George launched into his yipping. Sadie was still hiding in Pepper’s room upstairs, but she barked too.

  Probably hiding under the bed, the sweet goober.

  She dropped back onto her feet and pretended to be straightening the mushroom crocks beside the stove.

  Both because she hated getting caught looking for her chocolate chip stash, and because she did not need the sugar or caffeine. By her calculations, the embryo should be implanting itself about now. Which meant it was even more important for her to chill out.

  “Thought you were closing tonight,” she said to the footsteps behind her.

  “As if. I called in a replacement.” Cinna dropped her neon-green shoulder bag on the counter and stuck her head in the fridge. “What are you doing here? Everyone’s at the hospital. Nat’s dilated to nine, and if she delivers in the next two hours, you’re going to win the family pool. How often does that happen? Oh. You had a date with the pizza man.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I can smell him on you. Sauce and mozzarella don’t lie. But you might. Are you dating him? Or did you just tell Gran that so she’ll quit setting you up with guys whose grandfathers she thinks are hot?”

  “I don’t need to invent a fake relationship to get out of going on double dates with Gran.” She was such a liar.

  Cinna studied her, then grinned. “Good. Then we can make your celebrity couple name official. Pepperony. So romantic. And fitting. Plus, it’s like he named his pizza place after you, even though he gets double billing there. Neither of you will ever find a better match. Although, I guess if you found a guy named Steak…”

  “Can a girl date a guy for a few weeks before getting a celebrity couple name?”

  “Why? Are you thinking of dumping him already? It’s the pizza-delivery guy thing, isn’t it? If he were a billionaire cowboy, you’d be saddling up. Admit it.”

  Discussing this without twitching, flinching, or wanting to gag had to get easier.

  Or possibly the gag thing meant the IVF had finally worked.

  “You, of all people, know he’s not just a delivery boy. Also, I should charge you more to live here,” she told Cinna.

  “You love me and you know it.” Cinna popped the lid off the milk, gave it a sniff, and then chugged straight from the container.

  Pepper made a strangled noise. “What are you doing?”

  “Finishing the milk. By the way, Gran gave me grocery money. And she says we don’t keep enough liquid nutrition in the house.”

  “You are not buying Gran tequila. Or gin. Not while I’m responsible for her.”

  Cinna took another swig, then slammed the empty jug on the counter and wiped her upper lip with the back of her sleeve. “She’s hilarious when she’s toasty.”

  “She’s pushing ninety and dangerous enough as it is. And she grabbed my b-boyfriend’s ass.”

  Dammit. She hadn’t meant to say that. Cinna’s instincts were razor sharp. She’d either call Pepper’s bluff, or she’d tell the whole family.

  “B-boyfriend?” Cinna said.

  “Shut up. It’s new.” Definite twitching. “And I haven’t used that word in relation to myself and someone new in a long time.”

  “Maybe Gran really is the antidote to your love life.”

  Not likely.

  “Anyway, I don’t care if you’re real-dating him or fake-dating him. Remember Ginger’s story? Gran moved in with her, so she asked Bruce to pretend to date her so Gran would back off. Poof! Six months later, they were married.”

  Pepper squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten.

  When she opened them, Cinna was still in her kitchen, and her words were still lingering.

  “Come on. Let’s go. Gran’s been cruising the geriatric ward at the hospital, looking for single men with single grandsons, while we wait for the baby. She says you need a backup plan. Plus, I want to be there when CJ passes out.”

  And this was exactly why Pepper kept certain parts of her life private. She had ten sisters and two brothers, and though the human body was supposedly seventy percent water, every last Blue child was seventy percent mischief. God forbid an outsider joke about CJ passing out in the delivery room, but inside the family, it was fair game.

  “Put me down for five on him staying upright with flying colors,” she said. Because family bets were so much safer than discussions of her love life.

  Cinna grabbed a pen from the magnetized holder on the fridge, then ripped a sheet off Pepper’s grocery list paper. “Ten dollars, Pepper votes he’ll pass out,” she murmured.

  “I said he won’t. And five more says he cuts the cord.”

  “Hush. His ego’s already too big for getting Nat pregnant in the first place. It’s our duty to vote against him.”

  “I honestly don’t know why he lets you work at his bar.”

  “It’s my charm with the customers.” Cinna grinned. She had the best of all the Blue genes—the red hair, the green eyes, the outgoing personality, and the stubbornness to get whatever it was she wanted. At twenty-five, she hadn’t yet figured out exactly what it was that she wanted, but when she did, look out, world. “Come on. Get your coat. Even if he doesn’t pass out, I can’t wait to see his face when he has a girl.”

  George yipped at the back door again, so Pepper let him in. He promptly attacked Cinna’s shoelaces. “Go on,” Pepper said. “George needs as much attention as Gran, and I’ve seen as much of this birth process as I want to already.”

  “Fine. Stay here. But if Nat’s within five minutes of midnight when she delivers, I’m giving Tarra the winnings. She’s all in for a girl tomorrow.”

  George growled.

  Huh. He was good for something after all.

  “You cheat, and I’ll have George pee on your sheets.”

  “That’s so last week.” Cinna grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard before spinning back toward the door with an impish grin. “Last chance. You coming?”

  “Nope. I’m stopping by tomorrow when I don’t have to fight all of you to hold the baby.”

  Cinna’s lips parted. “Oh, that’s low.”

  “Run along. Wouldn’t want anyone to lie to you about when the baby’s born.”

  “Hmm.” She hefted her bag on her shoulder and gave Pepper one more once-over. “I’ll give you this round. But if you’re not at the hospital, you can’t stop me from taking bets about you and the pizza man.”

  “Go for it.”

  Much to her surprise, Cinna let it drop.

  When she was gone, Pepper eyeballed her chocolate chip cabinet again and then the fridge.

  She still had leftover pizza. And much as she disliked the man who made it, the pizza itself still smelled delicious.

  Probably because she hadn’t had any in so long.

  Not because the pizza was special.

  Or the kiss.

  Although, it wouldn’t be entirely bad if he had to kiss her again. Let her ride that bike one last time.

  “Seven more days,” she whispered to herself.

  Seven more days, and she’d have confirmation that she’d finally done this getting-pregnant thing right, and she wouldn’t be dealing with a fake boyfriend any longer, and she could eat carbs again.

  She hoped.

  * * *

  Pepper knocked softly and poked her head into Nat’s maternity ward hospital room Tuesday morning. The mint green walls, wood-paneled cabinets, and rocking chair gave the room a warm, cozy feeling despite the hospital bed and antiseptic scent.

  Her womb gave a pang.

  She’d be in here herself with her own baby in about nine months…wouldn’t she?

  “Can Auntie Pepper come in?” she whispered.

  “No.” Her brother CJ put no heat in the word. The big redheaded doofus grinned as he rocked a bundle of blankets that she suspected held her brand-new nephew.
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  She dangled a gift bag. “I brought presents.”

  “For me?” he deadpanned. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “For the first Blue man born in thirty-two years. Nice job, princess.”

  “Auntie Pepper better quit calling me princess if she wants to hold you,” he cooed to the baby.

  “Could call you by your real name instead.”

  “And I can have hospital security see you out.”

  Nat laughed from the bed. Her short dark hair was smushed against the white pillows, but despite the bags beneath her eyes, she looked more at ease than she’d been in months. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to her petite figure. Already the puffiness in her cheeks was going down, and while she’d never had a pregnancy glow, happiness was radiating off her now.

  “And flowers for mama,” Pepper said, handing over the other half of the bundle of gifts in her hands.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

  “For what you’ve done for my family, we all owe you more than flowers. Taking care of this big doofus and giving us a nephew? You’re a saint.”

  “Oh, stop.” Nat pushed herself up and took the tulips with a smile. “How’s business today? Any more bridezillas? Did you get my…er…mess cleaned up?”

  “Maternity leave. No shop talk.” Pepper took a squirt of hand sanitizer from a dispenser on the wall and angled over to peek at the baby. “Oh, he’s beautiful, Nat. Has CJ let you name him yet?”

  “Sitting right here,” CJ said.

  “Our negotiations are progressing,” Nat said cheerfully. “Congrats to you too, by the way. I heard you won the family pool. The date part, at least.”

  “Miracles all around.”

  “I can’t believe none of you bet on me having a boy though.”

  “With eleven girls in the family? Plus Basil? I’m surprised CJ’s capable of making a boy.”

  Over CJ’s feeble objections, she took the baby and studied his pinched eyes, the white speckles on his nose, and the lock of soft, dark hair peeking out from beneath the blue knit hat. His cheeks were plump and rosy, and his little lips were suckling as though he were already dreaming about milk.

  She hadn’t gotten to hold her sister Saffron’s new baby at the wedding. Too many other sisters and aunts had vied for the honor all night, and at some point, it got easier not to fight.

  “Hello, handsome,” she whispered. Speaking any louder would’ve been impossible with the lump suddenly clogging her throat.

  Maybe she could have a boy too. She and Nat worked side by side most days at the boutique, and their sons could play together too.

  She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. “Has Noah met him?”

  When CJ married Nat a year ago, he’d gotten an instant family with both her and her son. Until the baby, Noah had been the only nephew in the family.

  “Oh, yes,” Nat said. “Grandpa brought him by an hour ago. He’s in love. And he’s already talking about making a dinosaur costume for the baby.”

  “With a dress?”

  “No, he seems to be growing out of the dress phase.” Nat swiped at her suddenly shiny eyes. “My baby’s growing up.”

  “We can have more,” CJ offered. “I like this one.”

  She tossed a pillow at him. “You weren’t the one pregnant and in labor. You didn’t push nine pounds of baby out—”

  “But I give good foot and back rubs.”

  The baby yawned and wiggled. When he blinked big, brilliant blue, unfocused eyes up at Pepper, her heart melted into a pile of sappy goo, and she had to will back the sting in her eyes again.

  She wouldn’t have the man at her side to rub her back, but God willing, she’d still get a baby of her own.

  4

  Tony left the pizzeria in good hands just after lunch Tuesday and headed down The Aisle. He hadn’t been here much since he moved to town—he’d come to Bliss because the market was ripe for its first brick-oven pizzeria, not because he loved the bridal crap—but he knew Lindsey and Pepper were both right about him getting involved here if he wanted to succeed.

  He’d joined the Willow Glen Chamber of Commerce. And he was being stupid in shunning Bliss’s equivalent. Good pizza wasn’t always enough.

  Which was how he found himself in a bright, cheery bakery just off The Aisle, trying to concentrate on the cupcake case and not the blonde proprietress’s protruding belly.

  Was everyone pregnant in this town?

  “I didn’t think you two liked each other.” What was her name? Karen? Kami? Kimmie. Right. Kimmie. And there was an accusation lingering in her blue eyes. As if Tony had broken some unspoken rule of Bliss by coming in to buy Pepper a cupcake.

  Probably had. “Misunderstanding.”

  “So your cat didn’t attack her dog?”

  He refused to let his shoulders tense. That hadn’t been Lucky’s fault. “She’s a rescue. Had a hard life. Just needs a little love.”

  Kimmie blinked, touched her belly, and smiled softly at an athletic-looking guy working on a laptop in the corner. “Salted caramel fudge,” she said. “And a sex on the peach cupcake for Gran.”

  There was a time when he was good with grandparents. Looked like he needed to find that part of his personality again. “Beach?”

  “No, peach. It’s on the secret menu.”

  Three minutes later, he was twenty bucks lighter and loaded down with four cupcakes and a chicken salad sandwich, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how Kimmie had gone from flashing a sweet smile at him to upselling him so high. Probably needed to figure that out and put it into practice at Pepperoni Tony’s.

  He turned down the alley before he got to The Aisle proper, and made his way to the back of Bliss Bridal. Going in the front, with all those brides, wasn’t his first choice, but he’d do it if no one answered in back.

  Lucky for him, someone answered.

  Unlucky for him, it was Granny Grabby-hands.

  “Pizza delivery? Or are you really going to take your clothes off this time?” she asked.

  “Cupcakes, and it’s still not your lucky day.”

  “Hmph. You young people. So uptight. Do you have any grandfathers still alive? Are they single?”

  “No grandfathers,” he told her.

  “Fathers? I’m pretty spry for my age.”

  “None available.” But the thought of turning this woman loose to wreak havoc on his father was enough to make him smile for real.

  Which was apparently the secret password for getting in out of the cold, because Gran opened the door wider and gestured him into a small kitchenette. She snagged the bakery bag from him and deposited it next to three other boxes that were suspiciously familiar.

  As though he was about six hours too late with the cupcakes, because Pepper had gotten her own this morning.

  Not that Gran minded. She dug into the new box and latched on to the peach cupcake. “Now, tell me all your secrets. Any criminal record?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you pass high school?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you really interested in Pepper, or do you just want her to do her magic so you can marry one of her sisters?”

  Definitely the oddest question he’d ever been asked. And not one he was touching. “You ever have trouble telling them apart?”

  “Never. Except maybe Pepper and Basil from time to time.”

  “Pepper and—Father Basil? From St. Valentine’s?”

  “Yep. Two peas in a pod, those two.”

  He didn’t know much about the stiff priest up the road, but Pepper didn’t strike him as stiff. Driven, maybe, but not stiff.

  Especially not after that kiss last night. “It’s because they’re your favorites, isn’t it?”

  She punched him in the arm and laughed. “I like you. You’re funny. How long do you intend to wait before sleeping with my granddaughter?”

  There went that party in his pants again.

  Not that it mattered. They’d both more or less agreed the only
sex they’d be having would be as fake as their relationship.

  Plus, nothing like underperforming a debut to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. And send him back to limp-noodle land for another year. Which would undoubtedly happen. “That’s one of those questions you’re going to have to talk to her about.”

  “How many ex-wives do you have?”

  His shoulders threatened to corner his ears again. One. And she was enough. “Six, if you count the five from my time in the cult. But don’t worry—I left that life behind last year. Pretty sure only two of the wives are still looking for me.”

  “Aren’t you a smart-ass.” And by the sounds of it, she approved. “I can see why you and Pepper get along so well.”

  “And I can see why she loves you so much.” Hell, he was starting to sound like his father, full of charm for the ladies. He stretched his fingers and made himself lean casually against the wall.

  “Gran?” Pepper’s voice wafted down the hall. “Dammit, I told her—oh. There you are.” She stopped in the kitchenette, looked at Gran, then Tony, then back again.

  “You have a visitor,” Gran said cheerfully.

  “So I see.”

  “He brought cupcakes.”

  “Very nice of him.”

  “Well?”

  The two of them stared at each other while Tony watched the show. Gran was in a Maroon 5 sweatshirt and neon pink linen pants. Pepper was her polar opposite, so buttoned-up in her fashionable skirt and blouse that it was hard to see where the prim ended and the priss began.

  Finally, Gran hmphed. “If you’re not going to kiss him hello, I will.”

  “I’m at work. And if I hear you’ve been touching Tony inappropriately, you’ll be eating dinner through a straw for the next week.”

  He choked. “Did you just threaten to punch your grandmother?”

  Pepper rolled her eyes, and boing! There went his joystick. Only she could make rolling her eyes look hot. “I threatened to hide her dentures.”

  “Ah. Much better,” he forced out. This conversation should’ve been deflating his stiffy, but it wasn’t. “She’s being a perfect gentleman this morning,” he assured Pepper. “No grabbing my nipples or anything.”