He reached for his phone. Kimmie wasn’t unreasonable. After last Friday, he knew she wouldn’t roll over and give him what he wanted—she’d killed his bunny with a fucking whisk, and then she’d launched a nuclear warhead that wiped every last bunny off the table, exactly as she’d warned him she would—but he’d also seen enough of her to know she had something Marilyn didn’t.
A heart.
He could work with that.
Hope you’re ready for tomorrow, he texted her. Looking forward to seeing those bright eyes.
“You like her that much, you better use something better than your normal lines,” Aiden said.
Josh lifted a brow at his friend.
“Not your normal type,” Aiden said. “She won’t fall for your normal bullshit.”
Josh’s phone dinged. He glanced down at it.
Um, you know this is Kimmie, right?
Hell. Aiden had nailed it. He’d never get anywhere with Kimmie his normal way.
Thank God, he typed. For a minute there, I thought I accidentally texted your mother.
He hit send, then stared at his phone. Would she have laughed? Josh wasn’t used to playing the funny man. But Kimmie—she was funny. He hesitated, then picked up his phone and sent another message.
I’m also looking forward to hearing more of your dreams. You’re one of a kind, Kimmie.
His lips twitched. That tilt-a-toilet dream had been hilarious, even if he hadn’t appreciated it at the time. Memories of Kimmie blurting out that one kept randomly popping into his head, and it got funnier every time.
Kimmie might not have been his usual type, but if he had to go to war with a cupcake princess, at least it was entertaining.
Now if he could make it profitable.
* * *
Kimmie squinted at her phone, trying to read between the lines of Josh’s message.
Was he mocking her?
Or was he switching his tactics to use her tactics against her? Since Friday night, she couldn’t be sure.
Before she could decide, the door swung open before her, and Billy—no, Will smiled at her. He was in a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots with his usual ball cap on backwards, but he’d apparently gotten a haircut because his normal sandy curls weren’t peeking out.
“Looks like you’re baking a cupcake in your brain, Kimmie,” he drawled. “Everything okay?”
Kimmie’s cheeks flamed. Being friends with a famous guy was weird. She’d watched his weekly BillyVision videos on YouTube for three years before he crashed Nat’s wedding and fell back in love with Lindsey after Christmas. Though Kimmie had seen him enough to know he was a normal, regular guy under the Billy glitter, she still had a music crush on him. “I had a dream that Teddy Grahams were playing baseball with bats made of bacon and balls made of melted cream cheese, but then the pancake they were playing on got tired and melted into mud that was actually a field of jacks,” Kimmie blurted.
He opened the door wider with a friendly grin, and she stepped into his suite at a fancy Chicago hotel near the United Center, where he was performing Friday and Saturday nights. When Lindsey had heard about Kimmie’s plans, she’d invited her to stay with them in the hotel for the night so Kimmie wouldn’t have to face rush-hour traffic to get here in the morning.
And then Lindsey had added that Will wanted to special order cupcakes for his whole crew, and Kimmie hadn’t had any problems convincing General Mom she needed to go to Chicago a night early to deliver an ungodly large order. Will’s people had unloaded the cupcakes in the hotel parking garage, and his assistant had brought her up to hang with Lindsey and Will.
Lindsey—tall, blonde, and glowing in a pale blue sundress and tan cowboy boots—crossed the posh room and squeezed Kimmie in a hug. “Josh giving you trouble?” she said.
Kimmie’s face flamed hotter. “It’s a work thing. People think we’re dating, but really, it’s not serious. I’m a full-flavored cupcake, he’s an artificial-ingredient snack cake. We’re… negotiating something.”
Lindsey pulled away, her brown eyes seeing too much. “Nat guessed as much. Your mother ordered you to charm the bakery out of him?”
Will scratched his neck and quickly turned his attention to a pizza box on a side table.
Because it wasn’t embarrassing enough for half of Bliss to suspect Kimmie hadn’t really snagged Chicago’s hottest bachelor. Billy Brenton had to know about Kimmie’s lack of a love life too. And apparently it was possible for Kimmie’s cheeks to reach the temperature of the sun and not melt off. Who knew? “Or embarrass it out of him,” Kimmie said.
There wasn’t any use in pretending with Lindsey. She had always managed to dig up the best dirt, and on top of it, she had a special talent for matchmaking. No doubt she’d think Kimmie was a terrible match for Josh, though.
Not that Kimmie intended to ask.
“Don’t worry, I know it’s not real,” Kimmie said. “And who wants artificial-ingredient snack cakes anyway?”
“Ain’t Kimmie cakes,” Will said.
Lindsey smiled at him. “Or Aunt Jessie’s cookies.” She guided Kimmie to a stiff ivory couch in front of a big-screen TV, where the Cubs were playing the Braves. Will’s dog, Wrigley, lounged on the hotel carpet. His soft brown eyes watched them settle in.
Lindsey scratched his ears. “I’ve never had a tour of a snack cake company. Sounds interesting.”
“Oh, no, it’ll be super boring,” Kimmie said quickly at the hint. “Just machines doing terrible things to sugar and flour. If it’s even real sugar and flour. Which you kinda have to question if you’ve ever had a Sweet Dreams snack cake. Plus they’ll probably want us to sample some, and that would be really mean to subject you to that. Did I tell you my last fortune cookie said that stages change lives, but lives can also change stages? That’s weird, right?”
“Depends on the stage.” Will handed Lindsey a paper plate topped with a slice of deep-dish Chicago pizza, then offered one to Kimmie. “You want, I can get one of my crew to go with you tomorrow. Got some muscle.”
“You don’t think I could be Kimmie’s muscle?” Lindsey said to him.
He aimed a warm smile at her that made Kimmie wish some guy, somewhere, would one day give a passing thought to smiling at her that way. “You got different muscle,” he said.
“And negotiating skills,” Lindsey said.
“Real good negotiating skills.” He settled into the chair beside them, then grabbed a guitar and gave it a strum. “And matchmaking skills, and it don’t look like Kimmie wants any of that today.”
Kimmie shook her head hard enough that her hair hurt. “Really, even I can see we’re a terrible match.”
Lindsey held up a hand, and her massive diamond engagement ring sparkled. “Okay, but what can we do to help?”
“I—it’s—I’ve got this. I do.” Kimmie totally didn’t, but while she could tell Lindsey the truth, she couldn’t ask her friend to solve the problem for her. “But if I need a getaway car, your number’s first on my list,” she joked.
“Has your mother taken any time to consider the benefits of a rich silent partner, or is this just about her being in control?” Lindsey asked.
“He’s not exactly all silent. A month ago, he suggested we change the name of the bakery. Mom almost flambéed his chestnuts on the spot.”
Lindsey chuckled. “Can’t help but like a man who stands up to your mother.”
“Mom’s afraid if she dies, he’ll steamroll me and the bakery will die too. And maybe all of Bliss. Not that my mom’s going to die. I mean, you’ve met her. She’s going to live to be four hundred before she gets bored with running things in Bliss and decides to try her hand at running the afterlife instead.”
Will ducked his head and coughed.
“Go on,” Lindsey said to him. “Write a song about that.”
“Already thinking on it, lawyer lady.” He aimed his million-dollar smile at Kimmie. “Even your momma can’t live to be four hundred. Don’t you
worry.”
“But she can cut me out of the bakery if she thinks I can’t handle it.” And that was the scary part.
Heaven’s Bakery was home. Going there after school and watching General Mom and Rosita work cake magic had been the best part of her childhood. Working there now—the wedding cakes, the buttercream and fondant and gum paste, the cupcakes, the deliveries—Kimmie was doing what she was put on this earth to do.
No other bakery had the same history and heritage as Heaven’s Bakery. “Mom’s right. If I can convince Josh to surrender his share of the bakery, then I can do anything.”
“Kimmie, you can already do anything. You don’t have to beat your mother’s enemy for her to prove it.” Lindsey snagged a tablet off the square end table. “I heard Bennie’s is going up for sale.”
“The Bennie’s next to The Milked Duck?” The sandwich shop had shared a wall with Dahlia’s ice cream shop for Kimmie’s entire existence. “Wow. I wonder if my mom knows.” Probably not, or General Mom would be on a mission to find happily married and General Mom-approved new business owners to buy it. But if Josh knew… “Are you sure?”
“Mm-hmm. Ben and Milly want to retire, and their kids aren’t interested.” Lindsey passed her tablet to Kimmie. It was open to a page with a picture of the sandwich shop, along with notes about the building’s size, condition, taxes, utilities, and estimated worth.
“Wow,” Kimmie said again.
“Good size for a cupcake shop,” Lindsey said.
“Oh, no. My mom would pull somebody’s pork before she’d let a cupcake shop open that close to Heaven’s Bakery.”
Lindsey stared at her without blinking.
So did Will.
As though already they were sharing thoughts and teaming up to magnify the effects of their subliminal messages, even though their wedding wasn’t for another two weeks.
Kimmie was pretty sure she was tuned in to the wrong channel. “You guys want to open a cupcakery in Bliss?”
“She’s really cute,” Will murmured to Lindsey.
“Adorable,” Lindsey agreed. “And stressed, I suspect, because she’s normally quicker than this.”
“Quicker than—oh. Oh.” They thought Kimmie could open a cupcake shop. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no. I know your dad’s been good for her, and it’s really exciting that Mom’s talking about retiring for him, but no. She’d prune my pickles if I turned my back on my legacy.” Plus, Kimmie didn’t want to leave Heaven’s Bakery.
She just wanted everything to be the way it used to be.
Before the flood. Before Birdie. Before Josh.
“Retiring for my dad?” Lindsey repeated.
“So they can take their relationship to the next level.”
“The next—oh, no.”
A prickle of uh-oh trickled down Kimmie’s spine. “That’s what Mom said.”
Lindsey had been one of Kimmie’s best friends for almost a decade, but she was still scary when she put on her lawyer face. “She’s intending to retire and marry my father?”
Kimmie eyed the pizza in her lap. She could’ve taken a big bite to avoid the question, but Lindsey wouldn’t let this one go. “She didn’t exactly use those words,” Kimmie said, “but with Mom, she couldn’t have meant anything else. She, erm, believes too much in tradition for it to be anything else.”
“Dad’s told Nat and me several times that he has no intention of marrying again. And that was after I told him to go for it with your mother.”
“Might could be he don’t know Marilyn’s intentions,” Will said.
Lindsey’s lips parted.
“Ooh,” Kimmie breathed.
Knowing General Mom, Will was most likely right.
And knowing General Mom, if Arthur had told her he never wanted to get married, she’d probably worked out a plan to change his mind.
General Mom didn’t tolerate the no word.
Lindsey squeezed her lids shut, then shifted a look at Will. “I’m adding an addendum to the prenup. Having Marilyn as a stepmother-in-law is not grounds for divorce.”
He grinned. “You go on and add anything you want, lawyer lady. Won’t be needing it.”
“Was she serious about retiring?” Lindsey asked Kimmie. “Now? Or was that a ploy to get you to agree to help get Josh out of the bakery?”
“She’s been… different since she started seeing your dad. And she was really weird about her birthday this year. I think she might be.”
“Your mother’s plan is truly for your benefit, then?” Lindsey pressed.
“I think so.”
Lindsey shifted in her seat and pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Dad. He’ll know how serious she is about retiring.”
“Erm, maybe don’t mention that part about Mom and marriage?”
Lindsey pressed two fingers into her eye. “Definitely not.”
Will leaned over to peck her cheek. “Good luck.”
She rubbed the hat on his head, then stood. Wrigley stood too, shook his body, and followed her to the next room. She shut the door with a click.
Kimmie looked at Will.
She’d never been alone with Billy Brenton before. Even knowing him as Will. “I perfected the peach filling for your wedding cake. At least, I think I did. Mikey liked it. But he wanted to call it—never mind. You can probably guess. Or maybe not, but you know Mikey.”
He strummed his guitar again. “She didn’t see y’all kissing.”
Kimmie’s face erupted again. “Who didn’t see who kissing?”
“Lindsey. She didn’t see you and the snack cake guy at Mikey’s wedding. I asked her. Said she hasn’t ever seen you together except for the picture, so she can’t say if he’s good or bad for you. Did say she’d kick his ass if he hurt you, though. ’Course, she’ll have to get in line.” His attention drifted to the baseball game on the TV, fingers strumming.
“It’s just a business thing,” Kimmie stammered. She straightened her spine. “I can handle it.”
He slanted a look at her, and his lips turned up in the corners. “I know you can. You find your spunk, and that snack cake guy ain’t gonna know what hit him.” He nodded. “You got this, Kimmie. Don’t doubt it.”
Huh.
If Billy Brenton thought she could do it, then maybe she could.
8
Tweeted @ChiTownGossip: Josh Kincaid’s Girlfriend Believes In Aliens—Sweet Dreams Secretary Reveals All! #Joshmie #AllAboutTheCake
There wasn’t any reason for Josh to be nervous, but he couldn’t stop pacing in the lobby of the Sweet Dreams headquarters. The visitor chairs—specially designed to be life-size Dream Cloud Cakes—mocked him from their scattered perches amidst the blue and white swirls around the Sweet Dreams logo on the carpet. The middle-aged receptionist alternated between typing madly on her computer and casting covert glances at him whenever she answered the phone.
The row of windows making up the front wall overlooked a lush patch of grass. The waterfalls lining the entry walk flowed gleefully, but there was no sign of Kimmie.
He checked his phone again.
She hadn’t replied since his text last night about her dreams. Knowing Kimmie, that could’ve meant anything.
Not that he had any right to claim to know Kimmie. Did anyone know Kimmie? Could anyone know Kimmie?
“Oh, hi. Am I late?”
There she was, sneaking in as easily as she used to disappear.
No trench coat today. Instead, she wore her neon green jeans and a pink shirt declaring her a Cupcake Queen. Her crazy hair was in two French braids, and while her purple plaid sneakers wouldn’t win any fashion awards, they were appropriate for touring Sweet Dreams, if not for her tennis date with Mom. She didn’t carry a purse or a bag, nor, as far as Josh could tell, was she wearing any makeup or jewelry.
“Right on time, sugar.” Josh draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her through the lobby. “Traffic okay?”
“Yeah, except when that alien spaceship landed on I-90 and the
n all those crickets jumped out to perform Beethoven’s Fifth on kazoos. Otherwise, clear sailing.”
Sounds lovely would’ve been the expected answer if Kimmie were any other woman. But then, any other woman wouldn’t have put those sentences together. “Kazoos?” Josh said. “Beethoven’s Fifth would work on maracas, but not kazoos. Clearly alien crickets.”
The receptionist stopped talking and typing, and choked on a cough.
Kimmie’s bright blue eyes narrowed, but not as far as he would’ve expected. And then she hit him with a wide, unexpected, uninhibited smile. “Wow, it’s like you added some vanilla to your cake batter.”
A smart man would’ve taken that as a sign to reconsider the idea of asking this woman to come work here every day. But Josh merely smiled while he guided her past the windows overlooking the end of the Dream Cloud Cakes production lines, where the individually wrapped jelly-filled angel food cupcakes rolled past on conveyor belts. “Wait until you see my kitchen.”
“That could revoke your vanilla.”
Probably. But he’d removed the sign that said Laboratory this morning, lest he set the wrong tone. “You love kitchens. It’s in your blood. Can’t hate a mixer and measuring spoons, can you? It’s not their fault they live where they live.”
Red splotches stained her cheeks, but she tilted her chin like her mother would’ve. “Nor can I save them all from unfortunate homes.”
They entered the elevator bank. Kimmie’s nose quivered. Josh barely noticed the subtle scent of snack cakes anymore, but seeing Kimmie sniff made it obvious to him too.
Didn’t smell nearly as sweet as Heaven’s Bakery.
“Factory tour, or the lab—kitchen first? Lady’s choice.”
She swept a glance at the walls decorated with Andy Warhol-esque paintings of classic Sweet Dreams treats. Her lips pursed, but then she nodded. “The factory tour, please.”
Josh let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. If she wanted to see the factory first, to take in how the cakes were produced en masse, there was a chance this new plan would work.
Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) Page 10