Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) (4 page)

And therein was the problem. Mom-and-pop cupcake shops were putting Sweet Dreams out of business. “Want it?” Josh said. “I get my cupcakes for free these days.”

Aiden eyed Josh. Then the box. Then Josh again, as though he were piecing together what Josh wanted him to do. “Suppose this’ll do instead of you buying me a beer.
Joshie-poo
.”

Wasn’t a secret Aiden wanted to be promoted into product development at Sweet Dreams. If Josh knew his buddy, he’d be in the lab all night, dissecting those cupcakes, looking for the secret formula for a snack cake that tasted better than shit.

And if he could find it, then Josh wouldn’t have to keep up this charade with Kimmie. Problem solved by tomorrow, next day at the latest.

Not that it would take Kimmie long to cave. She wouldn’t last another day in his world. She was too
Kimmie
.

And she’d tipped her hand at the wedding Saturday night.

She liked him.

All the better for their business to be done quickly.

T
he first time
Kimmie had seen Josh was the day he arrived with the news that cousin Birdie had kicked the cake pans. It had been a wintery Wednesday, and Kimmie had stayed late to cover Paige’s shift since she was out with the flu. Everyone else had gone home. General Mom had been on her way through the showcase area of the bakery to lock up when the doorbell jingled.

Heaven’s Bakery never closed until the last customer was gone for the day, and since the flood, General Mom had gone above and beyond to be accommodating.

They’d needed the cash to buy back cousin Birdie’s share of the bakery. Increasing daily revenue had been the goal when they branched out into selling cupcakes. And it had been working. They’d been close.

But that afternoon, Josh had walked in.

He’d worn sunglasses that, along with the stylishly mussed dark blond hair, the well-trimmed but equally stylish whiskers, and the leather jacket that molded to his chest and shoulders, had given him a sophisticated air.

Grooms didn’t often come in by themselves. Kimmie remembered one distinct thought—
lucky girl
—before General Mom turned on her unique, bull-in-a-china-cabinet charm. “Welcome to Heaven’s Bakery. How may we assist you?”

He’d flicked off his sunglasses and hooked them over his collar, curled his lip, and his beautiful, frigid blue eyes had made a quick study of General Mom. “Josh Kincaid,” he’d said.

Kimmie hadn’t been able to see General Mom’s face, but she’d recognized the shoulder hitch.

Her mother knew who he was.

Kimmie should’ve been wiping down the turntables in preparation for tomorrow’s decorating, but instead, she leaned her forearms on the white tabletop, and she watched through a gap in the door.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this evening, Mr. Kincaid?”

“Wanted to check out my bakery,” he’d said.

And that was just the start of the bad. General Mom’s
I am severely displeased and I will dispute this until you roll over and wish you’d never met me
attitude came out in full force.

But Josh had done the one thing Kimmie had seen few people do.

He’d stared her down. Cited lawyers. Produced Birdie’s death certificate, her will, and any other proof General Mom demanded.

Though Kimmie only joked about her mother expressing her displeasure by swallowing people whole, when General Mom had conceded that Josh did, in fact, appear to now own half of Heaven’s Bakery, Kimmie had honestly expected that day to be Josh’s last living day on Earth.

And she’d been sad, because he was remarkably handsome.

And brave. Borderline stupid-brave, but he’d won.

He’d beat General Mom, and he was living to tell the tale.

But as Kimmie had heard General Mom launch her
I am the Queen General of Bliss, and thou shalt obey my wishes regarding the running of the bakery
lecture, something else had occurred to Kimmie.

Josh Kincaid was suddenly her second boss. Her sexy, commanding, unintimidated, unexpected second boss.

She hadn’t learned
all
of who he was, his connection to Sweet Dreams or how he’d known Birdie well enough to inherit the bakery, until later. But her mouth had gone dry, her pulse had headed toward a sugar crash, and she’d been unable to stop staring at his handsome face.

And she’d known, without a doubt, that her cozy, cake-centric life was about to become exceptionally complicated.

Had it ever.

Especially in these last three days since cakemageddon.

Thanks to General Mom’s dossier, Kimmie had learned more about Josh Kincaid than a hopelessly romantic small-town wedding cake baker with an unfortunate secret crush on him could handle.

Other than his habit of always being photographed in public with beanpoles, twigs, and handrails, there was a lot to appreciate about the Joshanova. Half of the pictures General Mom had provided were from charity dinners where he or Sweet Dreams had made sizeable donations. There was an old video on YouTube of him buying a meal for a homeless guy, and rumors that he frequently handed out granola bars, beef jerky, and bananas to people living on the street. He’d gracefully handled the sordid details of a nasty split with a smart, beautiful, longtime girlfriend three years ago, presumably over her displeasure at his lack of intention to propose. She’d been covered by all the B-list celebrity blogs, calling him every name in the proverbial book—including a few Kimmie had had to look up on Urban Dictionary—while Josh stood stoically and would only say that he wished her well.

Kimmie knew she was on the naïve side and that some of her girlfriends would claim sexist coverage by the bloggers and reporters, but after a lifetime under General Mom’s tutelage, Kimmie had an ingrained appreciation for not airing one’s dirty laundry in public.

But more than his donations to charity, his discretion, and the way pictures of him in a suit made her pulse go wacky, it was that little note on the second page of the file General Mom had given her that had Kimmie transfixed.

His mother—his only parent—had died when he was nine, and after two years in foster care, the Kincaids had swooped in and adopted him.

As a kid who’d lost her dad so young that she didn’t even remember him, Kimmie couldn’t help feeling a connection to Josh. Or wondering if maybe there was more to him than the Snack Cake Romeo side he showed the world.

He’d gone from rags to riches. There had to be more, didn’t there?

He
had
, after all, gone along with the charade that she was his girlfriend. In public. With witnesses. As though she weren’t embarrassing or awkward or a complete and total fool.

Even though he had to be acting, even though he couldn’t possibly actually like her, he’d still claimed her.

Like a knight in shining armor come to rescue the Misfit Princess of Bliss.

So Tuesday afternoon, she was mixing chocolate buttercream at Heaven’s Bakery and pondering the mysteries of Josh when she realized she was getting furtive glances from the other six women in the kitchen.

She paused and swiped her arm across her forehead. “Do I have frosting in my hair again?”

“Your mother doesn’t object?” whispered Rosita, Heaven’s Bakery’s level four master baker and second-in-command. “To your… boyfriend?”

General Mom had stepped out for a Knot Fest meeting. With the annual event kicking off in less than four weeks, she was always out at meetings about the parade, the bridal expo, the Husband Games, the Miss Flower Girl and Miss Junior Bridesmaid pageants, and everything else that went into the gigantic production that was Knot Fest. Which meant better opportunities for gossip. Not that Rosita typically allowed much gossip on her watch either—despite her sweet demeanor, Kimmie suspected Rosita got as much of a sugar high from the weekly inspections as General Mom did—but she’d always been human first, a baker second, and only showed her dictator side when unavoidable.

Kimmie didn’t know if Rosita knew why Josh occasionally wandered into Heaven’s Bakery’s kitchen. His visits were usually close to the end of the work day, and the details of General Mom selling half the bakery to cousin Birdie and then Josh inheriting it weren’t things anyone talked about in Bliss. Mostly because General Mom had done her best to keep it a secret, but Kimmie knew most of her coworkers suspected something. Not that they ever said anything out loud. Loyalty or fear, it was anyone’s guess.

But General Mom wasn’t here now.

And the questions lingering in her coworkers’ faces were the same questions Kimmie had answered at the Knot Fest general committee meeting Sunday night, then again at the Miss Flower Girl and Miss Junior Bridesmaid pageant subcommittee meetings yesterday at lunch, then again at the Golden Bouquet Hunt subcommittee meeting this morning.

And by text message at least two dozen times to various friends and distant relatives along The Aisle.

Are you really dating Josh Kincaid?
THE Josh Kincaid? Chicago’s hottest bachelor Josh Kincaid?

Who knew a D-list celebrity snack cake heir would be so well-known in Bliss?

“Mom’s hoping I can, erm, convert him,” Kimmie whispered back. She was stretching the truth thinner than simple syrup, and it didn’t get easier to repeat it. “Obviously, a snack cake heir wasn’t her
first
choice, but we—” she gulped “—well, even my mom can’t stand in the way of true love. Not here in Bliss. You know?”

The ladies nodded.

“Is he nice?” one whispered over her gum paste roses for this weekend’s wedding cakes.

“Um, obviously,” Kimmie said.

“
You’re
why he’s always coming around? I know he’s hot stuff in Chicago, but he always seems so stiff when he comes here,” another added from the sink.

“Honey, you want them stiff,” a third said while she measured flour for tomorrow’s baking.

All the women giggled.

A
click
sounded, and the giggles stopped. Everyone’s attention returned to their tasks in the bright white room, and a streak of spring sunshine spilled in the door. “Ladies,” General Mom declared, “Cake Readiness Condition Three drill. Now!”

A flurry of coordinated motion broke out in the kitchen. The ovens were switched off. Lids were snapped on food containers. Kimmie went through the motions of storing the buttercream and clearing her work surface while she stifled a yawn. After getting home from Chicago last night, she’d been up until well past midnight making cupcakes for her secret side business. Then she’d reported to Heaven’s Bakery at seven for normal morning inspection.

Having a Cake Readiness Condition Three drill was cruel.

But it was what kept the bakery getting high marks from the health department.

When it came to the bakery, General Mom was all business. She personally ensured every cake was perfectly baked, that every rosette was perfectly piped, and that every product upheld the high standards expected of a bakery that would proclaim to make cake good enough to be served at the wedding of God himself.

Once a week, they practiced emergency drills for dealing with various cake emergencies—bad buttercream, dead baking powder, late deliveries, fire alarms, dropped eggs, anything that could possibly go wrong at a bakery, and each potential cake-tastrophe was labeled with its own degree of severity. Kimmie had worked at the bakery since she was fourteen, never went to college, and generally only had one day off a week, but she’d never actually experienced a Cake Readiness Condition Three emergency. But General Mom insisted Alton Brown
might
stop by unexpectedly with his cameras someday, and therefore, they needed to be ready to present the brightest, most sparkling kitchen with five minutes’ notice.

There was only one step above Cake Readiness Condition Three. Had last weekend’s cakemageddon happened in the bakery, it would’ve been grounds for calling Cake Readiness Condition Four. And even though Three had never been called, Four had. Only once,
ever
, last year during Knot Fest.

Kimmie had the scar to show for it. And now Natalie had a husband to show for it.

Most people didn’t know it, but Mom had nearly sabotaged her own bakery that day to do something nice for someone else.

She had her moments.

But not today.

After they’d properly stored the food, scrubbed the last of the dishes, and polished the cake spreaders, Mom checked her stopwatch, nodded, then snapped her fingers and pointed Kimmie to the office. “Back to work, everyone.”

Rosita squeezed Kimmie’s arm, then made the sign of the cross. “Good luck, my child.” Rosita had been at the bakery since Kimmie was born, and for that alone, she deserved a bigger gift than a bronzed wedding cake when she retired. Possibly sainthood.

Kimmie followed General Mom into the pristine, white-walled office. White shelves held white organizers full of white paper on the glass-top desk. Mom stood stiff-spined in front of the desk chair. “You appear tired. Are you taking your vitamins and eating your vegetables?”

“I took Josh cupcakes last night. It was a long drive.”

General Mom’s lips parted. Barely, but Kimmie knew her well enough to notice. “Oh. Excellent. Did these cupcakes come with any special surprises?”

Kimmie’s left eye bulged. “Mom—”

“Kimberly, it takes more than cupcakes to seduce a man.”

“He kissed me,” she blurted.

“Well.” General Mom’s brows took a rare trip up her forehead. “That’s certainly a step in the right direction.” She drummed her fingertips together. “A rather unexpected step, this early.
He
initiated this kiss?”

Maybe. Her brain had gone haywire at his mouth on her lips, and the part leading up to the kiss was hazy. The part involving the kiss, not so much, but definitely the part leading up to it. Her cheeks went warm. “I make very good cupcakes,” Kimmie said.

The laser beams that doubled as General Mom’s eyeballs scanned Kimmie’s body, as if she could leech the whole and complete story from Kimmie’s cells by overheating her until she cracked like dried gum paste. “By all means, continue taking him cupcakes,” General Mom finally said. “But do remember your deadline, dear. I have my own personal life to attend to, and I would prefer the bakery issue to be settled. Now.”

“Me too.” Kimmie sighed. It was a long, traffic-filled drive to Chicago. And even Kimmie wasn’t talented enough to annoy Josh to death by overnighting him cupcakes through the post office instead of continuing to drop by in person. Although, maybe if she put his face on the cupcakes or decorated them to look like boobs or—

“I had intended to save this news for later,” General Mom said, “but perhaps the idea of inheriting the bakery sooner rather than later might motivate you.”

Kimmie’s head whipped up, but her jaw didn’t keep up. “Sooner?”

A new, unfamiliar smile crossed General Mom’s lips. It was somewhere between her false
you can trust me
smile and her
I’ve been waiting all week for the Cake Readiness Condition Four drill
smile. “Dearly beloved, Arthur has been encouraging me to consider retirement,” she said. “If a life of leisure agrees with me, I have reason to suspect we could take our relationship to the next level.”