Tart (The Fluffy Cupcake Book 2)

by Katie Mettner

  Nine

  The scent I followed as I walked across the driveway to my neighbor’s yard was heavenly. I don’t know what he was grilling, but I wanted a taste. It was nearly nine p.m., and the sun was setting lower in the sky. After my cold shower, I decided that a nap was necessary before I could even think about the bombshell that he’d dropped on me.

  Truth be told, I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Most of my heart melted when I thought about his offer to marry me and his reasons behind it. He’d thought it out, but there was a lot he didn’t take into consideration. I was going to have to let him down easy and hope it didn’t ruin our friendship. I gave an internal snort. Sure, you’re worried about the friendship. You’re more concerned that you’ll never get a kiss like last night ever again.

  I told myself to shut up and crutched carefully over the old fence line to save distance to his yard. “That smells amazing whatever it is,” I called, so I didn’t scare him with his back turned to me.

  He spun around and set the tongs down, hurrying over to me. “Hey,” he said, moving to take my elbow but thinking better of it. “How are you feeling? I don’t think you should be up and about.”

  I kept crutching until I could lower myself to a chair in front of the fire. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “I had a shower and a nap. My leg is already feeling better after the fluid was drained off it. I think the antibiotics this morning already helped because my fever is gone.”

  “That’s good news,” he said, dropping a hand to my shoulder for a moment before he went back to the grill. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I was getting up to make something when I smelled your dinner. I hoped to mooch some of yours.”

  “You’re always welcome to mooch some of mine. Do you like wild rice brats?”

  “From Johnson Meat Company?” I asked, rubbing my hands together. It was a tiny butcher and processing shop in town that did huge business.

  “That’s the one,” he agreed, pulling the links off the grill. “Let me get them ready in the house, and I’ll bring one out. Unless you want to come inside.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” I said, already settled in the chair. “I take my sausage wrapped in nothing but a soft bun.”

  I swear he moaned as he climbed the stairs to the house. I swear he also said me too, but I couldn’t be sure. My phone beeped, and I pulled it out of my pocket, checking the message. It was from Hay-Hay. I opened it and read it twice with my head cocked to the side. She had big news to tell me tomorrow, and she’d be over when she finished baking. I wondered what that was about since she hadn’t mentioned any big news when we talked today.

  “A wild rice brat wrapped in nothing but a soft bun,” he said, breaking into my thoughts when he handed me a plate. I dropped my phone to my lap and took the plate, offering a smile.

  “Thank you. My mouth is watering. I appreciate your willingness to share.”

  He sat down in the chair next to me and set a soda in the cupholder on the chair. “I don’t mind sharing my sausage with you.”

  The double entendre was less than subtle, and I smirked. Okay, so I was a child, but now I couldn’t stop picturing him sharing his sausage with me. “This bun looks familiar,” I said, picking up the hot meat. “I think I might know the baker.”

  He was grinning when I looked up at him. “You might. Everyone in town swears by his dill pickle buns.”

  “You won’t be sorry,” I promised, taking a bite. I know Bishop moaned, but he quickly covered it with a bite of his brat.

  Neither of us spoke again until the food was gone and we sat sipping our sodas in the night air. The fire crackled to keep the bugs and the chill away as the sun finished its journey into the good night.

  “I talked to Athena this evening,” he said, tapping his can on his leg.

  “How is she? Missing home?”

  His head shook, and he laughed heartily. “Not that girl. She loves her independence. She got a job working at Disney and is going to spend the summer selling Mickey Mouse ear balloons.”

  “Wow, that sounds like fun for someone her age. Not to mention, a long way away from my experiences growing up in Minnesota.”

  He nodded again, his head bobbing rhythmically. “It’s certainly not your typical summer job. She has always loved everything Disney, though. She felt bad that she had to push her visit here back to the end of August and will only be able to stay a few days. I assured her that I love her and that I want her to take these opportunities when they come up, not let them pass her by because she was trying to please someone else or do what someone else thinks she should do.”

  Oh boy, it didn’t sound to me like he was talking about Athena anymore. Was he sending me a message in dad language? I chuckled at the thought inside my head and rolled my eyes. If he was, he was the hottest damn dad I’d ever met. There was no dad bod on this guy. He was one hundred percent ripped. I couldn’t stop thinking about him inside me, his breath hot on my ear when he asked, who’s your daddy, my little tart?

  I rubbed my forehead and took a steadying breath. It must be the fever. It was the only thing to explain the nonsense floating around in my head right now. Maybe I hadn’t had sex in so long I’d forgotten how, and the hot man next to me already proposed. Okay, so he didn’t propose propose, but he did suggest we get married—kind of the same thing.

  “I hope I get to meet her when she comes to visit. She sounds like an awesome young lady,” I said, clearing my throat. I was thankful that the sun was gone, so he couldn’t see how those thoughts of heated sex brightened my cheeks with blush.

  “You will, and she is. I’m pleased she’s confident enough to go out and do the things she wants to do without one of us holding her hand.”

  My phone beeped again, and I held up my finger, glancing at the screen. “It’s from Hay-Hay. She should be in bed, but she’s texting me about some news she has to tell me tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you love that?” he asked, laughter in his voice while he took a drink.

  “No, I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “If you have news to share, either tell me what it is or don’t say anything until you show up at my door.” I held up my finger and texted her that we’d talk in the morning after she finished with the baking. I added that I was super stoked to hear about the big news, just to settle her down a little bit.

  “Do you think she’s pregnant?”

  I snapped my head up, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “That was already a scare that occurred and prompted all of this messiness.”

  “Messiness?”

  I nodded and stared into the fire, my mind racing. I had so much to think about, and now he’d thrown the whole marriage thing into the mix. I didn’t know where to start to sort any of it out.

  “Hay-Hay thought she was pregnant and had a meltdown thinking about the business, all the work that already wasn’t getting done, how many hours she spends there, and how she was going to do it with a baby on her hip.”

  “I see,” he said. “That would be a lot if you hadn’t planned for it.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, finishing my soda. “The test was negative, but Brady used her reaction to the situation to force her to see things had to change. He told her she had to think hard about how to stop letting the business run us.”

  “I feel like he’s good at that. He kind of has this quiet way of needling you about something you already know has to happen, but you haven’t accepted yet.”

  “God, you’re so right,” I said on a sigh, but my lips wore a smile. “He’s the only guy in the bakery. We need his cool head on a daily basis, to be honest. He’s the break in the dynamic between Hay-Hay and me. When we get going on something that could spiral out of control, he’s always the one to bring us back down to earth and remind us that there’s more to consider. Come to think of it—I could use his wisdom now, too bad I don’t have that luxury.”

  “His wisdom about what?” he asked, his head tipped to the s
ide.

  I held my hand out and sighed. “Well, see, someone asked me to marry him today, and I don’t know what the right answer is.”

  He chuckled and stared into the fire. “I thought that question was asked and answered. I can rescind the offer if that makes it easier for you.”

  I shrugged, my curiosity winning out over my logic. “I can’t get past the idea that it’s deceptive, Bishop. It’s probably insurance fraud.”

  “Surprisingly, according to the definition by the FBI, it’s not,” he said. “Do you know who commits the most insurance fraud in this country?” I shook my head as an answer. “Doctors. The little bit of money the insurance would payout for your tests is a penny in a full bucket of what they pay out to doctors filing fraudulent claims.”

  “That still doesn’t make it right, Bishop,” I insisted.

  He held up both hands in surrender and went back to staring into the fire.

  “I mean, how would it even work?” I asked, not sure I needed him to answer as much as I needed not to have it in my head anymore. I needed to work it out in the air by the fire.

  “It’s not hard. We apply for a license, get married by a judge, and file it. My district allows me to put you on the insurance immediately.”

  “I mean the marriage. How would that work? It’s not like I can live over there and you over here,” I said, pointing at his house.

  “True, that wouldn’t look like we were newlyweds. I suppose we’d have to live together for a while.”

  “In your house?”

  “I do have more bedrooms,” he said. “You can have a guest room.”

  “Or the basement,” I said casually, but my voice wavered at the end.

  He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You can’t stay in the basement here with your leg the way it is. If storms are predicted, and you can’t get down my stairs, we can always hang out at your apartment for the night.”

  I squeezed his hand back in acknowledgment of his understanding, which was something I didn’t get a lot in my life. “I mean, marriage would put a huge crimp in your social life, Bishop. You wouldn’t be able to date or anything.”

  “Damn,” he said, shaking his head with serious vigor. “I’ll have to clear my social calendar. Think of all those calls I’m going to have to make and all those disappointed women who will have their hearts broken. It’s going to take days.”

  I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “Smartass.”

  “I understand that this is a small town, and if we get married, we’ll have to live as such.”

  “A fast marriage in this town only means one thing to everyone. Can you handle that?” I asked, angling my head toward him.

  “I know the truth. You aren’t pregnant. It won’t take anyone else long to figure that out, too. I’m not worried about it. People do fall in love and get married quickly for other reasons.”

  “They do?” I asked, surprised. “I don’t have a lot of experience with falling in love. Haylee and Brady took nearly seven years to kiss the first time.”

  He laughed, and I was glad it didn’t sound so tight this time. “That’s the exact opposite of instantly falling in love. I used to work with a guy in my last district who took the elementary school secretary out on a first date, and they were never apart again. He took her home, she stayed, and they married the next week. They’re still married twenty years later.”

  “Those cases are rare, though.”

  “They are, but not unheard of when it comes to love. Besides, why are you worried about what everyone else is going to think?”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes to the sky. “You didn’t grow up here, Bishop. You don’t understand the nuances of having been born, raised, injured, and running a business in the same town. Certain expectations are had for the hometown girls.”

  “Courtship and marriage to a hometown boy?” I tipped my head in agreement. “Screw that antiquated idea, Amber. You’re a modern woman who can do whatever the hell she wants without worrying about what the knitting club or ladies’ aid groups are tutting about.”

  “Tutting about?” I asked, laughing. He lowered his brow at me, and I sighed. “I know what you mean. You’re right, but it’s hard when you grew up in that environment. Even my mother still believes I’ll marry a nice boy from my class,” I said, using finger quotes.

  “Maybe she’d be happy with a nice boy who lives next door,” he said with a wink. “Then again, I’m not a boy. I’m a nice man, so I suppose that’s going to be harder for her to accept. Your dad will probably be an even harder sell.”

  I shook my head, the motion jilted and twitchy. “Understand that when I do get married, whenever that may be to whoever that may be, my parents will rejoice and be glad. I’ll no longer be their problem. They won’t be faced with the constant guilt of this,” I said, motioning at my leg stretched out toward the fire. “They’ll be happy to pass me off to the first guy who is remotely interested in taking care of me, so they no longer have to do the job.”

  He stood and knelt next to my chair, hugging me. “I’m sorry you have to live like that, tart. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Nothing that happened was your fault.” His arms squeezed me tighter, and I put mine around him unconsciously, needing the closeness of someone to comfort me. I was worn out. Being strong all the time was hard work. I just laid there on his shoulder and let him comfort me in a way that I usually found hard to accept. Maybe that was because the comfort came from someone with pure intentions.

  I sighed, my eyes heavy as they stared into the fire. “I know it’s not their fault either. People deal with trauma in different ways.”

  He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear then sat back down in his chair. “That’s true, sweetart, but it’s still not right.”

  I cleared my throat and motioned at his house, ready to change the subject. “What about like, you know,” I said, gesturing around with my hand until he grabbed it and held it down. “Wifely duties.”

  “That’s not a thing, Amber. I’m capable of cleaning and doing laundry just the same as you are. I don’t expect you to clean up after me or wash my boxers.”

  I stared into the fire to avoid eye contact, uncomfortable with him still holding my hand. “I didn’t mean those kinds of duties,” I whispered. “I meant like wifely duties,” I said, emphasizing wifely this time.

  His hand squeezed mine, and he sighed. “Okay, first of all, if sex feels like a duty, you’re doing it wrong. That said, marrying me in no way enters you into a contract that requires time spent in my bed.” I nodded without saying anything because part of me wanted to spend time in his bed. A big part of me. “Unless you want to, of course.”

  My head snapped to the left, and I eyed him in shock. “Do you want to?”

  He rubbed the front of his shorts absently. “You have no idea how much,” he said on a moan. “But I can control myself, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not a teenage boy fumbling around in a cabin in the dark, desperate to get laid. I have better ways to deal with those urges now.”

  I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I stood and braced a hand on each arm of his chair, leaning down. “What if I want to worry about it?”

  My lips crushed his then, and the swoop of my stomach told me I wanted to do a lot of things with this man. My heart pounded when he pulled me over onto his lap and held me tenderly, his tongue exploring mine. When it caressed the roof of my mouth, his moan filled the night sky louder than thunder.

  He buried his hands in my hair and ripped his lips from mine to hold my gaze. All I saw in those eyes was desire. The firelight reflected in his green garnet globes was indicative of the fire inside him. I could feel it as I sat on his lap. I could feel every hard ridge of him.

  His nose touched mine, and he stared into my eyes like they were wells without a bottom. His thumbs rubbed my temples while he took a shuddering breath after the kiss. “I swear to God, Amber Larson, all I need is thirty days to convince you that lo
ve is easy, and taking a chance on marrying me will be the best decision you’ve ever made.”

  “Thirty days, eh?” I asked, my lips seeking his for another sexed-up moment of lusty desire. “You’re pretty confident, Mr. Halla.”

  “That’s because we’re not that different, Miss Larson. We’ve both spent years alone yearning for the one person that we had an instant and easy connection to in this world. I found that person in the back of a cupcake van on a rainy morning a few weeks ago. She peddles bread and tarts by day, but by night, she’s the only thing I see in my dreams. This,” he whispered, pressing his hard rod into my thigh, “has never reacted this way to a woman so immediately or viscerally. You turn me on in the blink of an eye and make me harder than I’ve ever been. All I need is thirty days to teach you how to accept that as the truth.”

  “A lesson from the teacher?” I asked before his lips were back on mine. He pried my mouth open with his tongue and dodged in, stroking, caressing, and thrusting in a way that said he had every intention of one day showing me his tongue wasn’t the only thing capable of those motions.

  I dragged my lips away from his to suck in air and calm my pounding heart. “If you keep kissing me like that, it won’t take thirty days.”

  His deep, sexy, and soulful laughter filled the night. “My secret weapon is working,” he moaned, his gaze holding mine. “You’re such a beautiful tart. My mouth waters every time you walk into the room.”

  “Thank you...I think,” I said, my lips dangerously close to his again.

  “That was definitely a compliment. My mouth waters just thinking about how you’d taste under my tongue. Would you melt like butter the moment my tongue touches you? Do you taste sweet? Those are all things I want to know. Those are the things I have to know,” he hissed, pressing his hardness into my hip again.

  “I’ll give you your thirty days, Bishop Halla,” I whispered into the night, my heart pounding from desire and the words I was about to say. “But first, you’ll have to marry me.”