Sugared (Misfit Brides #4)

by Jamie Farrell

  “Oh, that.” Mom gingerly touched her bruise. “Tennis accident. I’m fine. And so is the other guy.”

  “Gotta work on that story.” Aiden pecked her cheek. “Heard you saved a baby from a mugger. Looks like it hurts like a mother, though.”

  “I’m fine.” She tucked her arms at her sides and gave Aiden her old there are cookies in the kitchen smile. “Will you do me a favor and run upstairs and tell Mr. Kincaid I’m heading up when I’m done talking to Josh?”

  “Absolutely, Mama Esme.” Aiden offered her a plate. “Have some cupcake. Want to know if that place is worth the money.”

  Mom took a cupcake with an indulgent smile.

  “Email me and let me know, yeah?” Aiden said.

  He ducked out of the office, and Mom’s smile faded. “Have you spoken with Kimmie today?”

  Josh’s ears went unusually warm. “She got home safely last night and had a busy day at work today.” He assumed. He hadn’t heard otherwise.

  “That poor girl. I’ve never met anyone so nervous in my life. She sent me apology flowers this morning. And the card was the rambliest thing I’ve ever read. Is everyone in Bliss like her? I hear it’s an odd town, but goodness.”

  “Kimmie’s… special,” Josh said.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed.

  “All things considered, she’s remarkably normal,” Josh said. “She’s exceptionally talented, but her mother is a bridal dictator who probably raised Kimmie to do push-ups if she didn’t get the dishes washed to specifications.”

  “But she’s not the normal you generally prefer.”

  Esme Kincaid hadn’t given birth to him, but she saw through him as though she had.

  “People change,” Josh said.

  “Joshua Nathaniel Kincaid, what exactly are your intentions toward Kimmie?”

  “I just hope I can do half as much for her as she’s done for me,” Josh said.

  Mom crossed her arms. Her bruise glared at him. “I love you dearly, but I will be severely disappointed in you if you hurt that girl.”

  The cupcakes he’d sampled gave him an extra kick in the gut. He’d gotten close to Kimmie for Mom. For Mom and Dad. They’d let him duck his head and say that Kimmie was special, but that he wasn’t ready to talk about it on his birthday. Mom didn’t seem to be willing to give him the same pass this time.

  “Kimmie knows my track record in relationships,” he said. It was the truth. Though he had an odd feeling of disappointment in himself putting it out there for his mom. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t being honest with each other.”

  Dad was right. He could package shit as sugar and sell it to a diabetic pig farmer.

  Mom’s arms slowly uncrossed until she smiled at him. “Good. When the poor thing isn’t skittish, she’s a breath of fresh air. So funny and unique, such an interesting outlook. We all need a fresh perspective in our lives now and then, don’t you think?”

  He did. More than Mom would ever know.

  * * *

  Kimmie thought she was doing a decent job of keeping up appearances the rest of the week, but Friday, after she’d delivered the day’s last wedding cake, General Mom met her at the door and gave her the your presence is required in the office finger wag.

  Kimmie dutifully trailed her mother into the white room, Josh’s proposition tickling her brain.

  “Kimberly,” General Mom said after taking her seat, “you’re engaged?”

  It took a lot to raise General Mom’s eyebrows, but apparently the gossip section of the newspaper lying on the desk had done it. “Does this mean your feminine tricks are paying off, or is this a stall tactic?” she said.

  Kimmie made eye contact with her mother’s nose. “I’m making progress.”

  General Mom tapped her French-manicured fingertips on the newspaper. “You appear pale, and you’ve been grabbing your stomach. Have you been impregnated?”

  “Mom! Josh and I are not having sex,” Kimmie hissed.

  “As your mother, I’m relieved. As your employer, I do wonder if perhaps you might complete your mission sooner if you did sleep with him.”

  This from the woman who had once insisted that a woman’s virginity was second only to her kitchen skills in the gifts she could offer to her future husband, and any daughter with the heritage and Bliss pedigree that Kimmie possessed would be as pristine as the Heaven’s Bakery windows on her wedding day.

  “Josh has an advantage in using… dating techniques as negotiation tactics,” Kimmie said.

  “Negotiation tactics? What exactly is the man asking for in exchange for Heaven’s Bakery?”

  Pumplegunker. Kimmie was too tired for this. “He… well… it’s just—”

  “Kimberly, what does the man want?”

  Kimmie squeezed her lips together. Her cheeks ignited naturally. She cast a glance toward the newspaper, then looked down at her feet.

  “You? He wants you?” General Mom said.

  Saved. Thank the cake gods for Kimmie’s foresight in running her own private Mom Inquisition Level Four drills. “It’s, erm, a little awkward,” Kimmie said.

  General Mom laughed her scary laugh, the one that meant she was happy. “Oh, this is delicious.”

  More like ridiculous.

  “He believes in this engagement?” General Mom said. “You’re sure?”

  “Well, I wasn’t the one who proposed.” Neither was he, but General Mom didn’t need to know that. “Mom, speaking of relationships…”

  “Yes?”

  “How are, um, things with Arthur?”

  “Delightful, of course. He’s quite pleased at the notion of my retirement. We’re discussing a trip, should all go well enough with the transition of Heaven’s Bakery, but I’ve informed him certain proprieties would have to be observed unless he concedes to marry me. Take this as a lesson, Kimberly. Feminine wiles are a powerful motivator.”

  So was never having to hear her mother say that again. “Yes, Mom.”

  General Mom smiled. “When are you seeing Mr. Kincaid next? And have you had your annual gynecological exam and visited Silken Secrets lately?”

  “Mom!”

  “A woman must do what a woman must do.” She gave a regal nod. “Go. Rest. Secure your future.”

  Kimmie didn’t need to be told twice.

  She barreled out of the office, snagged her purse, and headed for Suckers.

  * * *

  Suckers was hopping, as it always was on Friday nights, when Josh stopped by. The bartender had told him once it was because rehearsal dinners were wrapping up, and all the single men in town for weddings tended to flock here.

  Tonight’s bartender was extra busy, though, and Josh’s waitress was new, which meant that when Kimmie barreled through the door shortly after Josh sat down, he was tucked safely into a booth with a clear view of her path through the bar and nobody to point out to her that he was here.

  He started to get up when one of the women jumped off her stool at the bar close to Josh’s booth and hugged Kimmie.

  “Congratulations! That was fast. It was the trench coat, wasn’t it?”

  Pepper. Josh knew her by reputation. Worked at the dress shop next door to Heaven’s Bakery.

  Kimmie waved to the bartender. “Kimmie colada. Double strength. And a whole coconut cream pie.”

  “Whoa,” Natalie Blue said on Kimmie’s other side. Natalie, he’d met in person once or twice.

  “Oh, no,” Pepper said. “Are the papers wrong? What did he do? I’ll kick his ass.”

  “I’m not authorized to serve you double-strength Kimmie coladas,” the cute but annoying redheaded bartender said. “I can get you the pie, though.”

  Kimmie’s head dropped to the silver bar, and she muttered something Josh couldn’t hear.

  “Give it to her,” Pepper said. “I’ll drive her home, and I’ll handle CJ if he gets mad.”

  “He won’t get mad,” Natalie said. “I won’t let him. Get her the coconut.”

  Kimmie wrapped
an arm around each of them. “I love you both.”

  Josh tucked his ball cap lower on his head and watched Kimmie.

  He’d seen her talk to a few people in the last week, but he’d seen her duck out of Suckers—and several other places—more than he’d seen her in her natural element outside of Heaven’s Bakery.

  “Did you really bean Josh’s mom with a tennis ball?” Natalie asked.

  Kimmie’s face twisted in a grimace.

  Pepper touched Kimmie’s head. “Oh, sweetie, you have frosting in your hairnet. And is that an earring, or did you drip chocolate on your ear?”

  “Hush. I want to hear about the tennis smack-down.”

  Kimmie’s cheeks flushed in her unique Kimmie way. “It was an accident. We were playing doubles against this snooty woman and this cougar who has a thing for Josh.”

  Josh winced.

  “And I sent her flowers,” Kimmie rambled, “and she’s amazingly nice and I’ll miss her when—”

  “Wait, you sent the cougar flowers?” Nat said.

  Pepper leaned closer. “Forget the flowers. You’ll miss who when?”

  The bartender plunked an oversized martini glass with a pink-tinged liquid on the bar, then held her hands up. “I refuse to take responsibility for this. And I’m charging you double if you damage anything.”

  A guy behind the bartender slid a whole pie onto the bar in front of Kimmie. “Special delivery for my favorite cupcake baker.”

  “I love all of you,” Kimmie said.

  “Shoo,” Nat said. “We’re gossiping.”

  “Trying to, anyway,” Pepper agreed. She nudged Kimmie. “You don’t think he’s going to break up with you over the tennis accident, do you?”

  “He owns half of Heaven’s Bakery,” Kimmie said.

  Josh’s spine snapped straight.

  The only terms he’d agreed to with Marilyn when he inherited half the bakery was that he’d keep quiet about it.

  He hadn’t asked why she requested his silence, but Josh hadn’t minded having potential blackmail material against her. Plus, that had added a level of enjoyment to dropping in on the bakery.

  He made Marilyn nervous.

  One or two people had figured it out—including Natalie—but he knew Marilyn had kept his half-ownership tightly under wraps.

  At the bar, Natalie said something quietly.

  “Good idea.” Kimmie took another gulp. “It’s not the drink. It’s my life. It’s one big lie, and I hate big lies. I love pretend. I love my dreams. I love the fantasy of finding true love. But I hate lies, and I keep lying. And it keeps getting more complicated with the people who know it’s a lie, and I can’t keep them straight anymore, so I’m only telling the truth from now on.” She paused for a bite of pie. “Unless you’re General Mom. Then I’m going to lie to you. And I’m not going to feel bad about it, because Josh is right. She’s a bully.”

  “Hey, how about a game night?” Natalie said.

  “Definitely,” Pepper agreed. “Drunk Killer Bunnies?”

  “Brilliant,” Natalie said. “Let’s go.”

  Kimmie slapped a hand on the bar. “No. Josh is coming. And I’m going to sit right here and wait. Because he’ll find me. He found me at a private suite at Wrigley Field on Wednesday. Did Lindsey tell you that? He got through the gate, then he talked his way past the stadium security to get to the private suites, and then he convinced Will’s security detail to come inside and ask if I wanted to see him. How did he even know where I’d be? I didn’t know where I’d be, and then poof! There he was.”

  It had been a lucky guess when he heard Billy Brenton was at Wrigley, and it had taken lots of balls to get to her, including having to promote her from girlfriend to fiancée.

  “And he said he’s coming this weekend,” Kimmie continued. “And I’m happy on this stool, and if he wants to negotiate cupcakes and business and contracts, he can do it here.”

  “Oh, lordy, she’s lost her marbles,” Pepper said.

  “Spilled my sugar,” Kimmie said. “Pie bakers have marbles. Cake bakers spill our sugar. At least, that’s what everyone should say.”

  Pepper shared a look with Natalie that seemed to say Kimmie had lost more than her marbles.

  Josh needed to get her out of here.

  Except what right did he have? They were her friends.

  He was the dumbass who hadn’t caught on until too late about why Kimmie had always disappeared when he was around.

  Because she didn’t want her mother to hear that she’d been seen with him.

  “We should get you home,” Natalie said.

  Kimmie stabbed her pie. “My mother’s going to split my bananas.”

  “Oh, no, honey, your secret’s safe with us,” Pepper said.

  “All of your secrets,” Natalie agreed.

  “No. No. You know what? Fuggle it.” Kimmie rapped her fork against her martini glass, then went up on her knees on her stool. “Excuse me, I have an announcement,” she called.

  The room went considerably quieter.

  “Kimmie,” Pepper said, “sit.”

  “You really should,” Natalie added, but there wasn’t any conviction to it, and her brown eyes were sparkling.

  “My mother sold half of Heaven’s Bakery to the Joshanova,” Kimmie said.

  The Josha-what?

  “Well, not to the Joshanova directly,” Kimmie announced, “but to her cousin Birdie, who was his housekeeper, and when Birdie cashed in her cupcakes, he inherited it, so my mother only owns half of Heaven’s Bakery.”

  Silence rumbled through the bar.

  Kimmie sucked in a loud breath. “It’s probably bigger news that—”

  Natalie yanked on her arm. “Kimmie, one secret’s enough.”

  She and Pepper both leaned in and whispered fast and furious.

  “No glass-kicking,” Kimmie declared. She pushed her palms to her temples as though she had a headache. “There’s been enough violence already. I want—I just want to bake cakes.”

  She drained the rest of her drink, and when she pulled the glass away from her lips, they puckered. “Uh-oh,” she said suddenly.

  “What-oh?” Pepper said.

  “I should go home.” Kimmie giggled. “There once was a lady from Nantucket,” she declared.

  Josh slanted a look at her.

  She clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Natalie snapped at the bartender. “We need a to-go box for this pie.”

  “Take the whole thing. Bring the pan back tomorrow.”

  “What’s up with the lady from Nantucket?” Pepper said.

  Natalie shushed her.

  “She had a family of fleas who forgot to say please,” Kimmie said. “And she gave them all lemons to bucket.”

  Natalie had her arm buried in her purse. “Crap, I can’t find my keys. I’m sorry, Kimmie. I’m trying—”

  “Roses are red, violets are blue, if you like me, my mother’s coming for you,” Kimmie rattled.

  Pepper was staring as though Kimmie had six heads and a unicorn horn.

  Josh could appreciate that. This was odd.

  Even for Kimmie.

  Shit. But a drunk Kimmie—

  “Crap. I cannot find my keys,” Natalie said.

  “Here. Take my car.” Pepper shoved a key ring at Natalie.

  “Not necessary.” Josh stepped up to the bar. “I’ll take her.”

  “Fugglemuffins,” Kimmie said. Her lips twitched. Up, then down, then up again. “Twinkle, twinkle, little bar, how I dreamed you’d be a car…”

  “We’ve got her,” Natalie said to Josh.

  “Obviously. Friends always let friends make spectacles of themselves in bars.” Josh took Kimmie’s elbow. “Kimmie, let’s go home.”

  Her elbow wobbled as if it were drunk too. “Mary had a coconut pie, its cream was light as snow.”

  “I’ve got her,” Natalie said to Josh. She dangled Pepper’s keys.

  “How much have you had to drink?” Josh said
. Pointedly.

  “I can’t—ah, two sips.” Her cheeks went an odd pink. “I’m fine. I can drive her.”

  “Fine and rhyme rhyme,” Kimmie said.

  Jesus. “Kimmie, who’s taking you home?” Josh said.

  She blinked at him. “Joshes are red, Pepper’s a Blue, Arthur’s in the doghouse, and my mom hates you.”

  “She’s a three-phase drunk,” Natalie said. “First the poetry, then the dancing, then she passes out. And we’re getting close to the dancing.”

  “I’ll be on your taillights the whole way to Kimmie’s apartment,” Josh said.

  “There once was a girl named Kimmie, who loved coconut like it was yummy,” Kimmie said. “She had a bad dream, and started to scream, but then she was saved by her Joshie.”

  Natalie looked at Kimmie.

  Then at Josh.

  She did a quick silent conversation with Pepper that involved brow tilts, nose wiggles, and lip pursing before giving Josh another once-over. “You know what? If you’re up for this, then she’s all yours.”

  “Hey, Joshie, you’re so fine, you’re so fine your sugar’s mine,” Kimmie chanted.

  “Dancing next?” Josh said.

  “Hurt her and die,” Nat said.

  Josh bent and hefted Kimmie over his shoulder. “Not here to hurt her. I’m here to protect her.”

  But so far, he was doing a crap job.

  12

  Chicago’s Hottest Fiancé Shacks Up With Betrothed In Bliss! —Greta’s Gossip, Chicago Daily Sun

  Kimmie bolted upright with a gasp. Darkness surrounded her, but she could still vividly see a casket in a bright, flowery room, feel the plush carpet beneath her feet, and see a bushy-haired, bushy-bearded blond man with sinister bat wings and fangs swooping over the chairs.

  She dropped, heart thudding, scanning the darkness while a dull ache grew to a pounding at the base of her neck, craning to see the bat-man, straining to listen for the flap of wings.

  The dark silence grew louder.

  Home.

  She was home. She blinked at the clock beside her bed. Three a.m. Boo and Peep shifted at her feet. All was quiet and normal and well.

  Except for the dream.

  She hadn’t had that dream since her early twenties. And knowing who—or what—the bushy-haired bat-man was gave her the willies in a way she never got from battling vampirates and llamaroos in her sleep.