Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) (8 page)

Josh hadn’t played football. At least, not according to General Mom’s documentation on him. He’d been on the baseball and golf teams, and now he played recreational basketball to stay in shape.

“Cheese?”

Kimmie jumped and dropped a stack of towels. Josh padded in from the kitchen. He plopped a plate of crackers, cheese, hummus, and sliced vegetables onto her newly dusted coffee table—a wood table she’d gotten at the resale shop and painted orange with white daisies—then plopped himself down beside the food.

On her green shag carpet. In his suit pants. With no obvious concerns about cat hair.

He’d ditched his shoes and only wore black socks on his long, narrow feet. He was also completely dusted with flour.

Kimmie’s heart squeezed out a ka-
thump
of
wow
. “Sure.” She tucked the towels inside her bedroom, then sat across from him on the floor. Peep took the opportunity to climb into Kimmie’s lap, turned four times, kneaded Kimmie’s thigh twice, and then collapsed with a contented purr.

Boo jumped onto the table and made as if she were about to lie down across the food. “Boo! Shoo. Bad kitty.”

Boo shooed toward the kitchen.

“Spoiled cats,” Josh said.

“Jealous.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t frown either. And Kimmie’s face erupted again. She grabbed a Ritz and a slice of cheddar.

“How long have you been at Heaven’s Bakery?” Josh asked.

“Today? This week? Or working there? Or since I was a fetus and my mom was working there? Not that I remember that, of course—that would be weird, even for me, but—”

“Since your first paycheck.”

“Oh.” Kimmie studied the ridges on the cheese. He’d probably used a butter knife to cut it. And he’d probably gone through her cabinets and drawers too. She would’ve if she’d been alone in his condo. But only if she were alone. Josh, she was sure, was more brazen. “I started as a dishwasher when I was fourteen. I could bake a cake, color frosting, and pipe roses by the time I was ten, but I had to work my way up the same as everybody else at the bakery. No bride wants to hear that a teenager is in charge of her wedding cake.”

“Your mom teach you?”

“Mostly. Rosita helped some. She’s been there forever. She’s our level four master baker and totally brilliant with gum paste.”

Josh sucked his cheeks in as though she’d said something funny but he didn’t want to laugh. He cleared his throat. “Master…
bakers
?”

“Well, yes. Don’t you have master bakers at Sweet Dreams? No wonder those things are an abomination to the institution of cake.”

“And what level master
baker
are you?” Josh said.

“I’m a level three. Mom has strict rules about—
oh
!” Kimmie gaped at him. He was making a
masturbator
joke. An image of Josh, naked in the shower, soap suds trickling down a solid chest, his head arched back, his hand wrapped around his—no. Nope. She squeezed her eyes shut. And her thighs together. But she couldn’t will the heat in her cheeks to cool.

“Got the joke, huh?” Josh said.

She popped open one eye.

He was grinning at her. Completely amused at her expense. Not an ounce of shame anywhere.

If anything, it was the most honest smile he’d ever given her.

On a scale of one to deadly, it was already-arrived-in-heaven.

She gulped.

He toasted her with a red pepper slice. “Gonna think on that next time you see Rosita? What level’s your mother?” He popped the pepper in his mouth and watched her with unrestrained amusement while he chewed.

She squared her shoulders and refused to answer his question. “You started at Sweet Dreams when you were about fourteen too.”

That earned her a raised brow, though the killer smile and the dancing blue eyes didn’t waver. “Do you ever wonder if your mother keeps a file on you as well?”

“She doesn’t need to. I’m terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Yet you’re running a cupcake business on the side that she has no idea about. How
does
that work, by the way?”

Kimmie shoved the cheese and cracker into her mouth, then made the universal sign for
sorry, I have food in my mouth
.

A bigger, slower, bone-melting smile spread over Josh’s perfect lips. He leaned into the table, an honest spark of interest joining the amusement. “Kimmie Elias, you have more secrets, don’t you?”

There was playboy Josh Juan glowing in the man across from her, but there was something else.

Something new.

Something intrigued.

Something as unnatural as the vampirates from her dreams falling in love with the poor goatpeckers.

“I had this dream once that she was pregnant with bigfoot’s love child, except bigfoot was being hunted by Buffy the Vampire Slayer because he was secretly Giles in disguise, but he could only be saved if they found the magic potion before they lost their shoes.”

The growing warmth in that smile that had gotten him named Chicago’s Hottest Bachelor by the
Windy City Daily
last year and the illusion that he was enjoying himself made Kimmie’s palms slick.

“And I never told her that,” she finished. “So, yeah, I guess I have secrets. Your turn.” She stuffed an apple slice in her mouth and tried to channel her mother’s
tell me everything
smile-glare.

Josh chuckled. “Can’t decide if you’re a cupcake or a mini-Marilyn in cupcake clothes.”

She was
so
not her mother. And even if Kimmie had fully wanted to flip him off, she wasn’t sure her fingers would’ve worked right.

She shrugged and grabbed another piece of cheese.

“You ever think of working somewhere else?” Josh said.

Her friends asked the same question on a regular basis. But unlike Josh, they only had Kimmie’s best interests in mind. Josh, she was more certain by the second, wanted her for more nefarious purposes than a few simple cupcake recipes. “Why would I?”

“Better pay. Bigger opportunities. Healthier working environment.”

“You know you can’t really make cake healthy, right?”

“Your stress levels would go down if your mother wasn’t breathing down your back every minute of the day.”

“Oh, she’s not there as much as you might think. Knot Fest commitments, BRA commitments, other commitments…”

“She’s not earning her paycheck?”

“That’s not—you’re not—you—
ugh
.” Kimmie fisted her hair in her hands. “She runs that bakery even when she’s not there. You’ve seen her. You’ve talked to her. You know what she’s capable of.”

“Yet you think you can keep secrets from her.”

Snap
. Once again. Like rock candy shattering in her chest.

Everyone in Bliss thought she was a cupcake. That she needed protecting. That she couldn’t survive on her own. And she didn’t mind. They
meant
well.

But when Josh doubted her, when he insinuated the same things everyone else in Bliss believed, she wanted to fry his donuts. “What do you want?” Kimmie said.

“Come tour Sweet Dreams on Wednesday.”

He popped a cherry tomato in his mouth, as casual as if he hadn’t suggested that she come look around the equivalent of a sugar brothel.

“I’m not going to work for Sweet Dreams,” Kimmie said.

“Didn’t say that. Just offered you a tour.” He winked. “I take all my girlfriends there. And since you’re playing tennis with my mother, you’ll already be in the area.”

Fugglemuffins. She was playing tennis. With his
mother
. She’d been sure he was displeased about that, but now—now, he seemed to be enjoying the thought of Kimmie embarrassing herself, regardless of the hit his reputation might take by virtue of association.

She was almost perversely flattered that he wanted her cupcakes
that
badly.

But on the other hand, it was probably another attempt to raise her mother’s blood pressure. If General Mom had a stroke tomorrow—unlikely, since everyone knew robots, dictators, and General Moms didn’t
have
blood pressure—Kimmie would be Josh’s new partner to steamroll however he wanted.

“And since your mother wants you to seduce Heaven’s Bakery out of me, she’ll be glad to see her plans progressing,” Josh said.

Kimmie didn’t have an answer to that, so she didn’t try.

He was right.

Worse, he’d confirmed that he
didn’t
find her attractive or interesting or worth dating. He didn’t want
her
. He wanted something from her.

She might as well give up on Heaven’s Bakery now. She was a failure. She’d never be the businesswoman her mother was. She wasn’t built for it.

But she loved cake. She loved frosting. She loved
art
.

And she loved Bliss.

Maybe she couldn’t seduce the bakery out of him, but he was still here. And she could still Kimmie him to death.

He wanted her help?

He’d see exactly what she could offer. “Have you ever played Killer Bunnies?” she asked.

“Killer Bunnies?” he repeated, blinking the way people always did when they didn’t follow her brain’s train.

“It’s a card game. Not spades and clubs, kings and jacks cards. It’s like a board game, but with cards instead of a board. Here. I’ll show you.” She stretched up to the top shelf beside her TV and pulled down a bright blue box. “But I have to warn you, I never hesitate to use the nuclear warheads or the anti-matter raisins. Your bunnies are going down.”

Josh squinted at the box as though it were batter gone bad. “If you say so, Marilyn.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll curse you with a Terrible Misfortune.”

He swiped a hand over his mouth, but there was a grin lingering in his hooded eyes. “Don’t trash-talk a street kid, sugar. You’ll lose every time.”

Kimmie simply shrugged. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

“
Y
ou baked her a cake
, let her set a date to play tennis with your mother, and got whomped in a game called
Killer Bunnies
?” Aiden said Tuesday night over Geno’s pizza.

“She beat me with a whisk.” Josh scowled at the scribbles on the wall. “A damn
whisk
. Weapon level one, and I rolled a fucking
one
.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re speaking English for a minute here,” Aiden said. “Dude, you’re really falling for this chick.”

Josh clenched a hand. He wasn’t
falling
for anyone. He was fighting to save Sweet Dreams. Just so happened that his adversary was funny as hell. And annoyingly good at weird games. “Kimmie’s entertaining.” He cleared his throat. “I’m taking her on a tour of the company tomorrow. Don’t be a Neanderthal.”

“You talk to your old man yet?” Aiden asked.

Josh’s pizza suddenly looked as appetizing as the Ghostie Toasties Halloween cakes he’d sampled at Sweet Dreams this afternoon. Unlike the last round of rumors, this round of layoff talk wasn’t going away. Aiden was catching on about how dire things were.

“Figure I’ll mention the idea for the new line after Kimmie’s tour tomorrow,” Josh said.

Aiden’s Irish flared up. “You throwing me under the bus and giving the cupcake lady my promotion? This was
my
idea.”

Was not, but Josh wouldn’t argue semantics with his friend.

Especially when he
would’ve
given Kimmie a job in the lab if she’d take it. Far more expedient to hire her away from Heaven’s Bakery than to talk recipes out of her.

“You turning into a girl?” Josh slapped Aiden on the back. “Wait and see if Dad bites before you take credit.”

“Blaming your
sweetheart
if he doesn’t?”

“Wouldn’t do that to Kimmie,” Josh said automatically. The weird part was, he meant it. Despite the joy Kimmie had taken in kicking his ass in Killer Bunnies—twice—she hadn’t had any malice in it. Not like her mother.

Her mother didn’t smile like Kimmie did. Her mother didn’t laugh like Kimmie did. Her mother wouldn’t have made
this is delicious
noises about his pineapple upside-down cake like Kimmie did.

That had his balls aching when he thought too hard about it.

Aiden helped himself to another slice of the deep-dish pizza. Mozzarella oozed out the sides. “Damn well better do something,” Aiden said. “Appreciate working for your family, dude, but these rumors… Ain’t sitting right.”

“I got your back.” Josh’s stomach rolled. He wasn’t one to take responsibility for the whole world, but his family’s business could put Aiden out of a job if things didn’t turn around.

He needed Kimmie to love her tour tomorrow, for her to want to help Sweet Dreams. Or he needed Aiden to find recipes that not only tasted good, but would work on the Sweet Dreams equipment.

He also needed Dad to be open to the idea of a new snack cake line at a time when Sweet Dreams was financially strained, which Josh wasn’t even supposed to know.

And he needed to do it all yesterday.

There was a quick way. He could give Kimmie his half of Heaven’s Bakery in exchange for recipes.

But somehow, this had become about more than recipes.

It was about winning. About beating Marilyn. About righting that wrong that had been done to Birdie’s family.

He didn’t have an emotional attachment to the bakery itself, but it was the last thing Birdie had given him. The only thing Birdie had left him beyond the memories.

It was also one more bit of collateral.

Josh wouldn’t hesitate to spend every last cent of his trust fund to save the family company, but if it wasn’t enough, he’d sell his car. His condo. Everything.

But Heaven’s Bakery would be the last asset to go.

If Sweet Dreams was beyond saving, Josh would land on his feet. He’d been through worse. He knew
he
would be okay.

But what would happen to his parents? How would
they
survive? His chest tightened, and an old panic knotted his gut.

He’d lost his mother. He’d lost Birdie. He’d almost lost himself. He couldn’t lose the Kincaids too.

Even if they lived through losing Sweet Dreams, they wouldn’t be the same. Their pride, their resilience, their spirits would be broken.

They’d given him safety and security. He had to do the same for them.

Which meant he had to talk to his Dad. But he had to get those cupcake recipes first. Having an idea was one thing. Steamrolling Clayton Kincaid would take something else.

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.

K
immie 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.”