Mom was dark and slender, dressed in a pink pantsuit that probably cost as much as Josh’s monthly profits from Heaven’s Bakery. She regularly took down competitors half her age on the tennis courts, and there wasn’t a soul at the Sweet Dreams Snack Cakes headquarters who didn’t love her. She wasn’t short, but Dad dwarfed her in size. Two of the strongest people Josh had ever known—two of the best people he’d ever known—standing together, holding their life together, protecting him from the Big Bad lurking around the corner, pretending all was well at the company so he wouldn’t worry.
Twenty years ago, Josh had fallen through the cracks in the foster system. Twenty years ago, he’d spent his birthday huddled under a pallet behind an Italian restaurant, cold and shivering on an unseasonably cold May afternoon, rain soaking his only shoes, listening to a scraggly-bearded old man, who smelled worse than Josh did, share his secrets for finding cash and coins, including lifting wallets. Ain’t long for this world, the old man had said. Take my stuff when I’m gone.
Josh had never seen him again. Three weeks later, his parents had rescued him from an inevitable life of being crushed on the street. He didn’t know why or how he’d been so lucky, but he would’ve done anything for them.
No matter the cost.
“You remember that sailboat we used to have?” Mom said.
“Beautiful boat.” Dad nudged Mom’s arm. “More beautiful when you were on it.”
She giggled. “Oh, stop.”
“Envy of every other boat on the lake.”
“Only because of its handsome captain.” She leaned into him. “We should get another one. It would be good exercise for you, working those sails again.”
“Esme…”
“I harp because I care, Clayton. You need to take better care of yourself.”
Josh rubbed his breastbone and backed out of the room, heading to his bedroom.
They’d given up their privacy and their normal life when they’d taken him in, and he didn’t often forget that either.
He also didn’t want to think about his parents being mortal.
He was halfway to his room—he did have a headache—when a knock sounded. “Fast service,” Dad said.
“I love that place.” Mom smiled at Josh on her way past him, Dad on her heels. “Oh, honey, you already look better. We’ll get some food in you, and you’ll be back to one hundred percent in no time.”
A prickle went down Josh’s neck.
That was fast service. Too fast. And building security normally would’ve called before letting a delivery guy up.
“Hold on—” Josh started.
Dad swung the door open.
And there was too much crazy blond hair going on for that to be the normal delivery guy.
“Oh,” Dad said.
“Oh,” Mom squealed.
Josh stifled his oh, which had a shit tacked on to the end of it, and charged the door.
“Um, hi?” Kimmie Elias said. “Oh! You’re Josh’s parents. I’m Kimmie. I—”
Josh angled between Kimmie and Dad.
“—brought cupcakes,” she finished.
She had pink frosting smeared on her left cheek and her blue eyes were wider than Lake Michigan. Except for a pair of purple Converse sneakers, her toned, shapely legs were bare under a trench coat. And she stood completely still while she stared him down.
Kimmie Elias. The odd, unpredictable, master-of-disappearing Kimmie Elias.
Was staring Josh down.
Again.
This time wearing nothing but a trench coat.
While his parents watched.
A familiar rat-a-tat hammered in his chest.
She was chaos. Disorder. An oddity.
And she was his best chance at saving his parents’ company.
He didn’t entirely understand her battle strategy, but he intended to win the war.
“Sweetheart,” he said.
Her left eye twitched the same way her mother’s did when Josh went to Heaven’s Bakery to annoy her. “Snufflemuffin,” she said.
Josh felt his own eye twitch.
“Josh! Don’t make the poor girl stand there,” Mom said.
He intended to make the poor girl do something. Preferably fork over enough recipes to save Sweet Dreams from its current blazing trajectory toward bankruptcy.
Kimmie blinked at him, her long muddy lashes lowering and lifting as if she knew that her being here was a bad, bad idea for both of them.
He took the white Heaven’s Bakery box from her, passed it to his mom, and then he wrapped his arms around her trench coat, subtly feeling for any evidence of anything underneath. He tipped Kimmie—crazy, unsophisticated, gangly Kimmie—and he kissed her.
Soundly. Thoroughly. With no mercy.
Lips, teeth, tongue—he used it all. Cinnamon flooded his senses, a hint of fruit, and something earthy and unique. Different.
Borderline interesting.
Dangerous.
He could’ve enjoyed figuring out the little mystery that was Kimmie Elias. She intrigued him. As did the challenge of getting a step ahead of her, and staying there.
So he kissed her like he meant it. She wanted to play this game? He’d play. And he’d win.
Tonight, her mousy squeak of surprise tasted like breath mints and desperation. One arm clamped around his neck. Her other hand yanked at his hair.
Hard.
He let her lips go, but he didn’t release his grip on her body. “Miss me, sugar?”
“I had a dream you were a ninja unicorn who spewed fire-vinegar on unsuspecting cupcake villages.”
Probably best if he settled things with Kimmie before Mom got ideas about taking her to the country club.
And he’d have to have a talk with himself about thinking that being a fire-spitting ninja unicorn was pretty damn cool. He was a businessman with a problem, not a six-year-old kid with the luxury of an imagination.
“No need to be nervous about meeting my parents, sweets,” Josh said.
“But they do horrible things to sugar,” she whispered while she disentangled herself from him.
He looked away from her and forced himself to make eye contact with his mom. “She’s such an adorable cupcake snob.” And, unfortunately, not incorrect.
“We have time to fix that.” Dad’s lips spread in a pained smile.
Mom, though, was grinning like she’d already planned a wedding in her head. He hadn’t introduced his parents to a girl since his last serious girlfriend went on her breakup rampage.
Wasn’t nice to give Mom dreams only to dash them, but he’d rather play the part of the broken-hearted fool later—or more likely, the poor boy who’d been used by a small-town girl looking for a way out, if he had his say on the spin of the story—if it meant getting his hands on Kimmie’s cupcakes.
Mom had survived when he’d refused to propose last time. She’d survive when Kimmie left too.
If she got to know Kimmie at all, she’d be relieved when they were done. People weren’t supposed to talk about their weird dreams. Not in Josh’s world.
“Isn’t this a cute box?” Mom lifted the lid, smiling, and sniffed. “Oh, Josh, honey. They’re lemon chiffon. What a thoughtful girl.”
“It’s an old family recipe,” Kimmie said.
Of all the words in the English language, she had to use those five. In that order.
Josh’s heart let out a long, bone-deep, anguished howl.
He might’ve underestimated Kimmie Elias.
“Is it—” Mom’s voice caught. She put a hand to the diamond-encrusted Sweet Dreams cupcake pendant she always wore on her lapel. She blinked quickly. “You—you’re related to Birdie?”
“We were fourth cousins twice removed on my mom’s side,” Kimmie said. “But I never met her. Her grandmother was disowned for sharing the top-secret family fruit loaf recipe with a boy from the wrong side of The Aisle. Of course, that was before The Aisle was called The Aisle, but the point is, she was banished from Bli
ss, and everyone was forbidden from speaking of her branch of the—sorry. I ramble.”
“Birdie was special to us,” Mom said. “We miss her terribly.”
Dad nodded. “Didn’t know that about her grandmother. She didn’t talk much about family.”
“When you’re related to the people who were responsible for bringing my mom into the world, that’s natural,” Kimmie said.
Dad chuckled an honest chuckle. Mom coughed over a laugh.
“Oh, Kimmie, do come in and sit down,” Mom said. “We heard about you on the news, of course, but Josh is always dating women according to the society pages, as I’m sure you know. How lovely that this one is true. I want to hear all about how you two met. And how Josh has kept you such a secret!”
“It’s a great story,” Josh said. And a story was all it was, but Josh would sell it for all he was worth if that was what it took to save Sweet Dreams.
“And I wish I had time to tell it,” Kimmie said, “but I’m needed in Bliss. Those wedding cakes won’t decorate themselves, and we have six weddings on Saturday. But everyone deserves birthday cake, and I—”
She shot a look at Josh, then added some guilt to it when she looked at Dad. “I was afraid you’d stick candles in those horrible ChocoNut Puffs.” She shuddered. “But anyway, enjoy the cupcakes.”
She bit her lower lip, then went up on tiptoe and pecked Josh’s cheek. “Happy birthday, wuvvles. Call me later.” She looked down and blushed as though she were just remembering her outfit. “We can talk about… things.”
She ducked out.
But this time, Josh was on her heels.
She wasn’t disappearing again. “Let me walk you to the elevator.” The door shut behind them. Kimmie kept going, but Josh snagged her elbow. “How the hell did you get past security?” he murmured.
She pursed her lips, and her eyes went bigger.
Josh folded his arms.
“There was security?” she said.
He almost believed the total innocence. “Yeah. Big, burly guys. Gray suits. Guns.” Probably not guns, but Kimmie had surprised him for the last time.
“Huh.”
Josh waited.
Kimmie stuck her hands in the pockets of her trench coat and swung her shoulders. “Did you want anything else? I have a long drive and a lot of work to do. And you need to explain me to your parents.” She looked down again. “And this, of course,” she added while she rattled the trench coat with her hands in her pockets. “If that’s anything like me lying to my mother, you’re gonna need twelve times that many cupcakes to get her sugar high high enough for her to believe you.”
Josh backed her up against the opposite wall. “What’s under the trench coat, Kimmie?”
Her usual jagged flush colored her cheeks. “I had a dream once that I had to go to the bathroom, but when I sat on the toilet, it turned into a seat on a tilt-a-whirl, and suddenly there I was, tilt-a-whirling through the carnival with my pants around my ankles, holding on to the tilt-a-toilet for dear life.”
“The trench coat, Kimmie,” Josh said again.
Those big pools of blue blinked rapidly. “This trench coat?” she said.
There was no reason for his dick to stir, but there it was, making itself known in his pants. “Your mother’s idea?” Despite mention of her mother, he was still rising, wondering if she was actually naked under there.
Her skin was porcelain smooth, and he’d dated enough society women to recognize that she wasn’t wearing makeup tonight. She wasn’t petite, but there was something to be said for curves on a woman.
“I wasn’t going to show you,” Kimmie said, “but it is your birthday.”
He needed to get his ass back in his condo.
Now.
Kimmie untucked her hands from the pockets, looked down, and slowly—so slowly—untied the tan belt. “I have to warn you, this is sort of like that dream I had about llamaroos mating with goatpeckers. You can’t unsee it.”
Yep. He was turning around. Walking away. As soon as he ripped his gaze from the gap widening in her coat. “Did you just say goatpeckers?”
She fiddled with the edges of the trench coat, barely holding the two sides together. “It’s a goat, except it’s also a woodpecker. And this—” she let the trench coat slide off her shoulders “—is your surprise.”
Get Suckered was written in bright purple over the neon green tank top that stretched across her breasts. Josh’s lips parted, and he had to blink against the bright, clashing colors.
His groin was protesting that there was still a layer of cotton between his eyeballs and her skin.
“I special ordered you a matching T-shirt, since I know you hang out at Suckers when you’re in Bliss. They’re super comfy for sleeping. Yours will be in this weekend.”
Forget the talk about being a businessman instead of a fire-spitting ninja unicorn. He needed to have a talk with himself about not getting turned on by Kimmie Elias, and not getting suckered into finding her hilarious.
Which she wasn’t, since she was making a fool of him.
“This relationship is done,” Josh said.
She tucked her hands into the pockets of her pink jean shorts. “Okay, but you won’t get your recipes.”
His jaw clenched hard enough to crack a diamond between his molars. He forced himself to smile—undoubtedly far from his best smile—and was rewarded with Kimmie’s round eyes going rounder.
He forced his voice to drip into bedroom territory, which was much easier than it should’ve been. “More than one way to seduce a cupcake baker.”
Jagged splotches of red rose in her cheeks again. But she thrust her chin out like he’d seen her mother do every time he’d spoken to her.
“Let’s make this easy,” Josh said. “You give me five cupcake recipes. I give you ten thousand dollars.”
She lifted a hand to her mouth, then dropped it, her lips wavering between a smile, a frown, and a pursed panic. “Each?” she said.
Josh checked a laugh. “Total.” His parents had been extremely generous with his trust fund during the good years, and he could afford it. Every dime they’d given him would go to rescuing their business one way or another. But he wasn’t about to waste more of it than he had to in securing new recipes.
Not yet, anyway.
Kimmie sniffed, and again, Josh saw her mother. “Enjoy your cupcakes,” she said.
“Ten grand will go pretty far to get your dirty cupcake business off the ground.”
She squeaked out a gasp and something that sounded like fluffernutter.
“Suppose your mother would salt your melons if she heard,” Josh added. He’d made a connection or two in Bliss, and when he’d heard what Kimmie was up to—pairing with the local ice cream lady who sold risqué-flavored ice cream to cater dirty-named treats for bridal showers—he hadn’t believed it.
But he’d gotten his hands on a sample or two, and there was no denying it.
Kimmie Elias was the only person in Bliss who could’ve baked a cupcake that light and fluffy, with a magic mix of sugar and flavor and presentation.
Her mother would have a shit fit of epic proportions if she knew Kimmie were involving her cupcakes in such a racy endeavor.
And Josh needed to forever separate the thoughts Kimmie and racy from his brain.
Now.
Kimmie crossed her arms over her melons, and this time, there was something different lurking in the thrust of her chin and the rigidity of her posture. Plus that blue flame igniting in her eyes.
As though Kimmie Elias had layers the world didn’t know about. Spunky layers. Stubborn layers. Intriguing layers.
He couldn’t decide if she was a mini-Marilyn with a warped personality, if she was odd for show, or if she really did permanently reside in this special little Kimmie-verse she’d created.
“Go ahead.” Kimmie stepped into his personal space. “Tell her. Tell my mother I take special orders for sexy cupcakes on the side.” She poked him in the chest
. “You can’t stop me. She can’t stop me. But if she fires me from Heaven’s Bakery, your profits there will sink to nothing. Because I am the cake. I am the buttercream. I am the magic. And you know it, or you wouldn’t want my recipes. Take your ten grand and shove it—shove it—shove it where your piping bag won’t reach!”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly under the horrifically bright T-shirt. Being fascinated by a nice pair of breasts wasn’t unusual, but even noticing that Kimmie Elias had breasts was odd.
Everything about the last ten minutes was odd. Uncomfortable. Wrong.
“Why lemon chiffon?” he said suddenly.
He waited for her to rattle off another crazy dream. Or tell him her mother would loop her fruits if she had given him chocolate birthday cupcakes instead.
But she stared at him with a straightforward, clear, Kimmie-ish look. Her light brows scrunched, and she sucked half her lower lip into her mouth. Her skin was more than smooth—it looked remarkably soft. Clean. Firm. Glowing. Except for the smear of frosting, which gave her a refreshing innocence. Should’ve been impossible when paired with the trench coat, but Kimmie pulled it off.
“Lemon chiffon fit you.” She sidestepped him. “Anyway, this has been fun. Happy birthday, Josh. Many happy returns.”
She turned and walked down the carpeted hallway to the elevator. And it wasn’t until the doors swished shut behind her that he realized she hadn’t actually asked him for anything.
She’d simply brought him birthday cupcakes.
Had he started the sweetheart ploy again?
Or had she?
He couldn’t remember.
But he’d offered her ten grand for her cupcake recipes before she’d said a word about Heaven’s Bakery.
He knew she was here on a mission from her mother. The two of them were in this together.
But she hadn’t once mentioned it. Instead, she’d wished him happy birthday, and she’d left.
As if she truly had come because she liked him and because she simply wanted to give him birthday cupcakes.
Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) Page 6