And then there was Josh.
He turned heads all morning, but if he noticed, he didn’t let on. He held Kimmie’s hand, ordered her to ride the carousel and the zoo train, and told her stories of his childhood trips to the zoo, both with his biological mom and his adopted parents.
But best of all, he smiled at her. Real, warm, eye-crinkling, cheek-splitting smiles, as though he were enjoying watching her rediscover the zoo as much as she was enjoying her morning with him.
As though they were in a real relationship.
She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that having sex with Josh meant that he’d never look at another woman again, or that she’d one day bear his children, or that it wouldn’t hurt when he moved on, but she was optimistic enough to believe they could stay friends after their fake engagement ended.
And that maybe they’d have sex again first.
They stayed at the zoo until they were almost late to dinner. Early afternoon, Josh pulled his car into a driveway on a picturesque street in a stately neighborhood.
Butterflies fluttered in Kimmie’s belly. “Why did your ex-girlfriend break up with you?” she blurted.
He turned on the curved driveway and parked the car on the large parking surface outside the garage, then gave her a cautious side-eye. “I refused to marry her.”
It was the same answer he’d given last week, but it wasn’t enough. “Why?”
He shifted in the seat until he was looking at her straight on. No fidgeting, no squirming, no hesitation. “I like my space and I don’t share well.”
He was lying.
Perhaps not outright lying, but not telling the whole truth. “Was she clingy?”
“No.”
“Demanding?”
“Not outlandishly so.”
“Perfect?”
He arched a brow. “She couldn’t bake.”
“Did you give her the it’s not you, it’s me speech?”
His lips quirked in a half-hearted grin. “What do you know about the it’s not you speech?”
“I read lots of romance novels. And a lot of my friends have used the line. Or complained about having it used on them.”
“It was definitely me,” Josh said.
“You have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.”
His brows shot up, his cheeks went pink, and he seemed to choke on a laugh. “I’m sure your mother would agree.”
“My mother thinks you’re a bug to be impaled by her stilettos.”
“Jesus. Don’t ever mention your mother and stilettos together again.” He shuddered.
“She scares you?”
“Stilettos are supposed to be sexy.”
“You know, I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t—”
“Oh, look, there’s my mother. Who would also be horrified by this conversation.”
Sure enough, Esme stepped out of the stately front door and waved. She was in a classic navy blue dress and ivory pumps, with pearls around her neck and her dark hair tucked up demurely. Kimmie eyed her own orange pants, then Josh’s khaki slacks.
“She told me the other day she envies your ability to wear color,” Josh said.
Warmth gushed into Kimmie’s chest and cheeks.
Not because she was embarrassed that he’d caught her worrying. But because he noticed enough to understand. “She did not.”
“She did. I offered her that hideous Suckers shirt you gave me, and she said only you could pull off that kind of attire.” The Josh Juan smile appeared. “I don’t think she meant it the way I’m thinking of it now, but—”
“Stop.” Kimmie fumbled for her seat belt and waved at Esme. “Or no cupcakes for you.”
He caught her hand and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “They love you.”
They loved her, but did he? “They don’t know this isn’t real.”
“That would be a rather complicated conversation.”
No kidding. She’d had dreams less complex.
“My dad probably suspects something. I didn’t tell him where the recipes for the new line at Sweet Dreams came from, but he’s a pretty smart guy. Discreet too.”
“And your mom?”
He scratched his ear. “She’s bought six dresses for the wedding.”
“Josh, we have to tell her.”
“Be my guest.” He’d put on that blank face again. The blank, you can trust that I’m being completely and utterly honest with you liar face. “But I’m not backing off your mother until she’s out of your way at the bakery.”
“And they say women are complicated,” Kimmie muttered.
She swung her door open before he could answer, and almost immediately, she was smothered in an Esme hug. “Oh, Kimmie, sweetheart, it’s good to see you.”
Esme’s bruise lingered on her face in an ugly green and yellow. “I’m so sorry,” Kimmie blurted.
“Nonsense.” Esme touched three fingers to her cheek. “I’ve been the talk of the club for over a week.” She lowered her voice. “And there won’t be any inappropriate proposals coming Josh’s way anytime soon. You should be proud, dear, for defending what’s yours.”
“Kimmie has a conscience, Mom,” Josh said. “We shouldn’t discourage that.”
“You can have a conscience and still have fun.” She smiled brighter and let Kimmie go to wrap Josh in a hug. “I’m so glad to see you happy, sweetheart. Come, come, both of you. Our other guest is already here.”
Other guest?
Kimmie shot a look at Josh. He finished a sweep of the driveway and the street, and his nose creased between his eyes. “You haven’t invited all the aunts and uncles, have you?”
Esme beamed. “Come in and see.”
Kimmie’s knees shivered. So did her elbows. She needed to tell Esme the truth. Which was… what? Esme, Josh and I aren’t actually engaged. He said we were so he could track me down after I accidentally tried to kill you, and then I didn’t correct anyone because I kept hoping it would go away on its own—and because irritating my mother is perversely enjoyable—and now I really like him and don’t want to break up with him, even though we’re not getting married despite the fact that he’s planned half a wedding.
Because wearing neon orange pants to a fancy house dinner with unexpected, undoubtedly suave and sophisticated guests wasn’t weird and awkward enough.
Josh put a hand low on her back. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured.
“The cupcakes!” Kimmie’s voice came out shrill and unnatural, even for her. “I forgot the cupcakes!”
“Oh, how sweet of you,” Esme said. “You didn’t have to bring anything. We have boxes and boxes of—”
“Oh, no, I never go to dinner empty-handed. My mother would clock my coconuts. She raised me better.”
Josh’s jaw tightened.
But Esme smiled bigger. “Such lovely manners. Oh, the holidays will be fun this year.” Her shoulders shimmied. “Look at that. You’ve given me the happy shivers.”
Josh popped the trunk of his convertible and pulled out the box of peanut butter cupcakes.
Kimmie caught herself fidgeting.
Today would not end well. She could feel it as clearly as she knew her own name.
“Shall we, sweetheart?” Josh said.
Esme took Kimmie’s elbow. “I can’t wait to show you the kitchen. Josh practically lived there his first year with us. It’s lovely to have him engaged to such a sweet relative of Birdie’s. She would’ve been absolutely tickled by you, I’m sure. She was more than our housekeeper. She was a dear friend. But Josh has told you all about her, of course.”
“Of course,” Kimmie said.
Esme steered them around the lush green lawn, fancy-trimmed bushes and designer flower gardens, up the stairs, past the white columns supporting the porch roof, and through the tall front door, chattering the whole way about Josh and Birdie. A chandelier sparkled in the entryway, and Kimmie was almost certain she was supposed to call the flower holder on the ornate table a vaaz.
&n
bsp; Mr. Kincaid—Clayton, Kimmie reminded herself—limped into the foyer, his left eye twitching. “Welcome, welcome,” he boomed.
Josh put his hand on Kimmie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing her neck. “How’s that trainer treating you, Dad?”
Clayton’s eye twitched harder. “Better than some people,” he muttered.
“Clayton, hush.” Esme patted his arm. “One can’t pick one’s relatives, dear.”
Josh’s hand tensed. “Mom,” he said, his voice low, “what did you do?”
Prickles went up Kimmie’s arms, and she tasted thick cotton on her tongue. She wanted to backtrack out of the house, but her feet weighed a thousand pounds.
A familiar, measured clip, clip, clip came from the next room. And suddenly, Kimmie understood Clayton’s twitching.
“Kimberly, your mouth is not a fly trap. Kindly quit using it as such,” General Mom said.
Kimmie snapped her jaw shut.
General Mom folded her arms and gave Kimmie a swift inspection. Her eyes narrowed, as though she could see what Kimmie and Josh had done last night, and she was greatly displeased.
And there went that snap! in Kimmie’s spine. “Mom,” she said, though she hardly recognized her own voice, “what a lovely surprise.”
Josh’s grip tightened on Kimmie’s shoulder.
Esme clapped. “A family dinner. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Is Arthur with you?” Kimmie asked.
“He was unable to excuse himself from a prior commitment.”
Arthur was retired. His only commitments were fishing at his cabin and watching Noah for Nat and CJ. Which meant Mom hadn’t asked him.
Probably because she didn’t plan on behaving.
Heaven’s Bakery help them all.
21
Tweeted @ChiTownGossip: Exclusive Photos of #Joshmie in Private! Is There A Ring On Her Finger Yet? #IsHeEvenLooking?
Josh’s mother was the devil.
Not only had she invited Marilyn, she’d put the woman directly across the table from Josh. And then she’d put Kimmie beside her mother, too far for Josh to reach.
“We’re so excited about the wedding,” Mom said over an appetizer of fig and goat cheese bruschetta. She smiled benignly at Marilyn. “Though, Josh is insisting he’s taking care of the details himself. I told him he shouldn’t take that away from a woman and her mother, but—”
“With Knot Fest coming, it’s been great to let him handle all the details,” Kimmie said quickly. “Mom and I are too busy.”
“I’d think he’d be too busy too,” Marilyn said. “Given the problems at Sweet Dreams.”
Josh fisted his napkin. Dad’s gaze sharpened on Marilyn.
“Oh, are those rumors going around again?” Mom swirled her wine and laughed. “Must be May. Sweet Dreams has supposedly been going out of business or contemplating layoffs or bringing about global warming every six months to a year for the last twenty-three years. You can set a clock by the scuttlebutt.”
Dad eased back in his chair. Josh tried to unclench his fingers, but he knew better than to underestimate a desperate enemy.
And Marilyn smelled desperate today.
Kimmie was watching him. He needed to relax. To let her know everything was fine.
“In my experience,” Marilyn said, “rumors tend to start with the truth. If there’s anything Kimberly or I can do to help—”
“As my wife said,” Dad interrupted, “everything’s great at Sweet Dreams.”
Mom touched her faded bruise. “I’d say. I had to break up a fight at Kroger last week over the last box of ChocoNut Puffs.”
Kimmie sucked her lips into her mouth.
Marilyn sniffed, then cut a dainty bite of her bruschetta.
“And how is the wedding cake business, Marilyn?” Mom said. “Bliss seems like such a family-oriented little town. You must be thrilled to have the bakery coming back in the family, what with Kimmie and Josh getting married.”
“Well, my daughter is flighty. We’ll see if this wedding happens.”
“Kimmie isn’t—” Josh started.
“Business is great, Esme, thank you,” Kimmie said. “We delivered twelve wedding cakes yesterday. Bliss is swimming with brides this time of year.”
“Twelve! My goodness, that must take an army. How long does it take you to decorate a wedding cake?”
There was something different about Kimmie. Her shoulders were stiff, but her voice was normal as she went into a long-winded explanation of decorating techniques and frosting types and the various potential complications of different flavors and fillings. Josh’s hand—and his shoulders, and his jaw, and possibly his heart—relaxed while he listened to her, and even Marilyn didn’t interrupt much.
Kimmie talked nonstop through the end of the appetizers and while everyone else ate the Greek salad course. She only paused to sip water, then kept talking.
Her cheeks, Josh realized when his salad plate was cleared away.
She hadn’t blushed.
Not once.
And she wasn’t talking fast, nor was she acting skittish.
He relaxed deeper in his chair, marveling at the subtle difference in her.
Kimmie knew her cakes. She was in her element, and it showed.
Confidence was sexy on her. Unexpected. Beautiful. Right.
“Oh, look at you.” Mom patted his cheek. “That smile is utterly adorable. No wonder Kimmie can’t resist you. What woman could?”
He started, and then Kimmie did blush.
Marilyn eyed him.
He eyed her back.
“Marilyn, have you picked a dress for the wedding yet?” Mom said. “A peach would be lovely this time of year. And your complexion would support it.”
“I’ll be in white,” Marilyn said.
“Oh, dear,” Mom said.
Dad coughed and hitched a crooked grin. “Now, Esme, you don’t need to be telling other women how to dress.”
“But the bride wears white,” Mom said.
“Marilyn’s entire wardrobe is white,” Josh told Mom. “Were she a lesser woman, I’d think she was compensating for something.”
“Joshua,” Mom chided.
Kimmie’s eyes widened at him.
She’s going to cream your spinach was the message he got.
This time, his grin was intentional. Her lips wobbled up too, though she was chastising him with those big, pretty blue eyes of hers. And that spot under his breastbone went warm and soft.
Like a fresh cupcake.
Not good.
“And Kimmie, you’ve picked your dress, I presume?” Mom said. “You two must have had a lovely day shopping for it.”
Kimmie’s cheeks were going a ragged red again. “I’ve actually had one for months,” she said. “My friend Natalie designs wedding dresses, and I was one of her models for her last photo shoot.”
Unlike her mother, Kimmie deserved to wear white. She’d look amazing in any dress. “I’ve told her to get any dress she wants,” Josh said.
“Oh, you are too sweet.” Mom beamed at Marilyn. “Isn’t he sweet? Of course, he’ll have to be, to keep up with Kimmie. The two of them together are a recipe for cavities, aren’t they?”
“They’re something,” Marilyn said.
She was doing the wonky evil eyeball at Josh, but he’d been a Kincaid long enough to know that a wonky evil eyeball wouldn’t stop his mother.
“But as I was saying,” Marilyn continued, “I do fear for Kimberly’s commitment to this union, and I—”
“My goodness, Marilyn, perhaps we know different Kimmies. It’s hardly easy for a small-town girl to fit into the kind of visible, big-city life Josh has, but she keeps coming back, and at such a cost to her own personal comfort. She’s been in the social pages almost every day. And with their basic philosophical differences about sugar and cake? They’ve overcome so much already. Surely we shouldn’t put roadblocks in their way too. My Josh has always been a good boy, but he’s become a better man since Ki
mmie’s come into his life.”
Marilyn gave Mom a pained smile.
Josh could strangely relate. Still, he kissed Mom’s cheek. “You’re biased.”
“Isn’t every mother?” She patted his hand, then turned back to Marilyn. “Clayton rescued him from the streets, you know.”
Josh tensed.
“Can you imagine? An eleven-year-old boy. Living on the streets. His foster mother died in a car crash and left behind four other children, and poor Josh slipped through the cracks.”
And that was all Marilyn Elias needed to know. Josh cleared his throat. “Mom—”
“He tried to pick Clayton’s pocket. Poor dear was starving. We tried and failed for years to have children, but God had a plan for us. Our own little blessing, exactly when we needed each other the most.”
Josh opened his mouth, but Kimmie’s gaze met his, calm and steady except for a subtle flutter of her lashes which seemed to say it’s okay. “I had a dream I couldn’t find my history class because the door kept moving, and when I finally got there, it was actually a secret hideout for ninjas to practice The Sound of Music, and I couldn’t remember my lines. Or how to throw the stars. But I sneezed flower petals, so everyone forgave me.”
Josh’s pulse steadied.
“Kimberly.” Marilyn sighed.
“You have such fascinating dreams, Kimmie.” Mom propped her elbows on the table and folded her fingers together. “Have you ever considered writing a book about them?”
“No, but I sometimes re-enact them with fondant and gum paste on cupcakes.”
Despite feeling half-betrayed and all exposed, Josh couldn’t help a grin. God, he loved her.
Shit.
No.
He loved her sense of humor. Her timing. He loved her Kimmie-ness.
He didn’t love her.
He couldn’t. Love was dangerous. Left him too exposed if anything ever happened to her.
Love could leave her too exposed if anything ever happened to him.
And what if she didn’t love him back?
Dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Passion dies, son, but she’ll keep you laughing into old age. Can’t put a price on that.”
“Such a blessing to have two people who appreciate one another’s uniqueness, isn’t it?” Mom beamed at Marilyn. “And to have raised her by yourself while running such a wonderful small business? I don’t know how you managed.”
Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) Page 25