Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) Read online

  “Prefer butter myself,” Josh said.

  That earned him a triple dose of a keep your dirty mitts off our Kimmie glare. Natalie shoved Josh out into the hallway.

  “Don’t fuck with Kimmie,” CJ growled.

  “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Josh turned a pointed gaze toward Natalie. “But if we’re talking about fucking with Kimmie, nice touch this morning. She loves it when her friends embarrass her.”

  “She deserves someone who would play in the Games for her, and I won’t apologize for reminding her of that,” Natalie said. “Did she ever tell you that she won the Miss Flower Girl pageant when we were little?”

  Josh didn’t follow. Nor could he picture his frizzy-haired, dream-spouting Kimmie on a pageant stage. “Kimmie’s awesome. Of course she did.”

  “Marilyn fixed the pageant because she thought Kimmie needed the emotional boost of winning. But everyone knew. Everyone. And then Kimmie found out. She went from thinking she had talent to thinking that she’d never be anything without her mother behind her to make people like her. What should’ve been one of the coolest moments of her childhood was humiliating.”

  Josh swallowed. Kimmie must’ve been devastated.

  “But you?” Natalie went on. “You’re one of the few people Kimmie has ever known who doesn’t do what Marilyn wants. You don’t have to like Kimmie because her mother ordered you to. If you like her, if you really like her, you’ll make sure she knows you like her for her, not because of anything her mother has or hasn’t done. And if you really want to marry her, you’ll get up on that stage and play for her in the Husband Games. They might seem stupid to you, but they’re the heart of Knot Fest. My dad won the Husband Games. Her dad won the Husband Games. CJ won the Husband Games.”

  She smiled quickly up at her husband, then pointed to the door while she scowled at Josh. “Ask any of the guys in there. They’ll tell you the same thing. Whenever they get married, they’re signing up to play in the Games. It’s what we do. If you’re not in all the way, leave Kimmie the hell alone.”

  This town took nutty to a new level. Kimmie didn’t expect him to embarrass himself playing in Bliss’s stupid husband Olympics. First, they weren’t getting married. Second, if Josh ever got married—which he wouldn’t—there was no way he’d make a spectacle of himself playing a ridiculous set of archaic and idiotic games in the name of love.

  But a rock had settled in his gut. “My future’s in Kimmie’s hands. She’s driving in this relationship. Not me.” He reached for the doorknob. “Shall we?”

  “Bliss might be about weddings and love,” Natalie murmured, “but we know how to make people miserable. Don’t forget it.” She stalked past him and into the apartment.

  CJ smirked. “Thanks, man. Love it when she gets riled up. Hurt Kimmie and die.”

  The big dark guy hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to.

  His menacing glare said it all.

  Josh stifled a sigh and followed them into the apartment. In the kitchen, Kimmie squealed. “Extra fortune cookies?”

  A general groan went up from the crowd in the living room.

  “Are these the Edible Undies cupcakes?” one of the women in the kitchen asked.

  “They’re the Nipple Lickers,” Kimmie answered. “Without the nipples.”

  “I heard you perfected the Sex on a Peach cupcakes,” another feminine voice said.

  “Can you squeeze me in for a double order of Spank Me Strawberries the weekend before Knot Fest? Half my sisters are coming to town,” the first voice said again.

  Despite the conversation out in the hallway, Josh grinned.

  Being crowded by her friends might be mildly uncomfortable, but at least it was entertaining.

  * * *

  Kimmie showed the last of her guests out shortly after eleven. Catching up with everyone had been good for her soul, her fortune cookies had been optimistic, and winning two rounds of Killer Bunnies hadn’t hurt either.

  Kimmie wasn’t sure how she felt about the veiled threats Josh had taken all evening from her friends, though. Despite how their relationship had started, she trusted him.

  Mostly.

  She flopped down on the couch and melted into it. “Max wouldn’t really turn you into a eunuch,” she said to Josh. “He has to say that because he’s friends with most of my cousins. But he does have a real spare bed.”

  “No need. I’ll sleep in your bed.”

  “Huh—wha…?” Kimmie pried her eyelids open and tried to pull herself off the couch. Or at least semi-vertical.

  Josh did that Joshanova chuckle thing again. “Since you volunteered for the couch.”

  “I’m not sleeping on the couch. It’s lumpy.”

  “It is.”

  She stifled a yawn. He shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch either.

  But then, he hadn’t exactly been invited. “I know the manager at the Blissful Nights Inn. I could probably get you a free room.”

  “I can afford a hotel, Kimmie.”

  “I’m too tired to talk business tonight.”

  The couch shifted beside her, and a warm, solid, masculine-smelling body lined up next to hers.

  Her head drooped to the side and landed on his shoulder.

  He pressed a kiss to her hair.

  It was a brotherly gesture, the same kind most of the guys had given her before they took off tonight, but when Josh did it, her fingers and toes tingled and her cupcake of a heart puffed up as though it had been overstuffed with Bavarian cream.

  “We’ll talk business tomorrow,” he said.

  He was warm. Like a wall of melted chocolate, except solid enough to stand between Kimmie and the Big Bad.

  “My mom was madder than I’ve ever seen her this morning,” she whispered.

  He shifted and put his arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “I don’t tolerate bullies, and I won’t leave you alone until I’m certain she won’t take her anger out on you.”

  “She wouldn’t…” Kimmie trailed off.

  Because she hadn’t ever seen General Mom that angry.

  “She wanted me to seduce the bakery out of you,” she whispered.

  “I noticed.”

  “Are we really friends?”

  His muscles went tense under her cheek, and she was almost positive she’d heard his heart skip a beat. “I don’t do friendship well, Kimmie.”

  “I do,” she murmured.

  He chuckled softly. “Yes, you do.”

  She yawned again. Her legs and arms were getting heavy. So was her head. And her eyelids. And her hair. “What do you do well?”

  Again, he hesitated. “Lately? Not much of anything.”

  That was too sad to contemplate. And she didn’t have the energy to put voice to any suggestions that he was very excellent at being handsome and charming.

  Especially when he didn’t try to be.

  Josh moved beside her again. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Your cats are waiting for you to go to bed.”

  The world spun around her, and suddenly there was a strong arm under her knees, another under her arms, and cool air drifted under her favorite cupcake shirt. She squeaked and grabbed onto his neck.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  Like a hero in one of her favorite books.

  She let herself relax, and she breathed in that subtle lemon scent, mixed tonight with Chinese sauce and white chocolate buttercream, and focused on the moment.

  Kimmie wasn’t the type of girl that a prince in shining armor came to rescue.

  And she knew it.

  But for that brief moment, she let herself believe she could be.

  * * *

  Josh was up before the sun.

  Not because the couch was uncomfortable—he’d slept on worse—but because his brain was uncomfortable.

  His heart was uncomfortable.

  And he needed to solve that.

  While he waited for coffee to brew, he pulled out
the laptop he’d brought along, dug out Kimmie’s Wi-Fi password from her smiley face cookie jar, and got to work.

  He had four confirmations he hadn’t mentioned to Kimmie, for things he didn’t need, but he couldn’t help himself.

  He had appearances to keep up.

  And those four confirmations made him smile in a way the rest of his email messages didn’t.

  Aiden had written to report that the tests of the blogger recipes he’d done in the lab oven yesterday were better, but not what he’d hoped they would be, and also that Ralph had been in and was in a mood over Aiden using the equipment. A guy in accounting had sent Josh the sky-high figures on what it had cost to get the fall line set up. And Mom wanted him to invite Kimmie for a nice family dinner next Saturday. No tennis required.

  Of the three notes, Mom’s was the worst.

  If Kimmie had been a klutzy mini-Marilyn, this fake engagement and their business negotiations would’ve been easier. But she wasn’t. And he’d barreled headfirst into a plan to get what he wanted—amazing cupcake recipes—without stopping to consider that he didn’t have all the information about Kimmie.

  And now he liked her, genuinely appreciated her as a person. It would’ve been easy to let her be his friend.

  But he wasn’t the type of friend she deserved. He was the type who came in, made things look good, got what he wanted, and got out.

  The thought curdled his stomach.

  Natalie was right. It would mean the world to Kimmie for a guy to marry her and stand up at the Husband Games and play for her.

  But that guy wasn’t Josh. All Josh could honestly offer her was making sure Marilyn backed the hell off.

  Regardless of what Kimmie decided about giving him cupcake recipes.

  The cat she called Boo skittered under the dining nook table and attacked a rice carton that had fallen off the table last night. She popped back out, head stuck inside the carton, pranced in a circle, then crashed into the wall.

  Kimmie’s life made Josh’s look boring.

  He plucked the carton off the cat’s head, then went to investigate another noise in the living room. But he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

  Kimmie was bent over, cupcake-shorts-clad ass in the air, curly hair dangling to the ground, arms stretched in front of her in a yoga pose. Her breasts hung free beneath her thin T-shirt. The smooth skin on her belly called to his fingers. Her rib cage expanded and contracted in an unexpectedly erotic rhythm. Peep walked in a circle around her, but Kimmie stayed in her pose.

  After a bit, she walked her hands to her feet, then gripped her ankles, bent nearly in half.

  Josh’s groin stirred.

  She was fucking flexible.

  She released her hold on her ankles and slowly pulled herself to standing, then reached for the ceiling, palms together, chest out.

  Josh held his breath.

  The lines of her arm muscles were subtle. So were the outlines of her leg muscles. But they were there. She wasn’t just flexible.

  She was strong.

  And it was an odd and unexpected turn-on.

  Again.

  How many times had Kimmie unexpectedly turned him on in the last two weeks?

  He couldn’t remember. Too many to count.

  She hadn’t noticed him. Her rib cage moved, slow and steady, in and out. She tilted her arms, her hands, her shoulders, her whole upper body sideways toward him. And then she stopped. And held herself still, except for the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, the subtle movement in her chest.

  He swallowed.

  Then swallowed again. More blood surged to his groin.

  Delayed morning wood, that was all.

  An odd side effect of spending too much time in Bliss.

  She’d put something in her cupcakes last night.

  Damn good cupcakes.

  She pulled herself straight again, took a deep breath in, then out, and then tilted to the other side. He took in the curve of her backside, the flex of her thighs, and he fled to the dining nook.

  Out of sight.

  Not out of mind.

  He pulled up his email and reread the message from his mom.

  Bring Kimmie to dinner. Such a sweet girl. We’d love to see her again.

  Didn’t seem that bad of a proposition.

  Which was a problem.

  The coffee maker burped. Josh bolted into the kitchen, found a mug that didn’t have teddy bears or cupcakes or tiaras on it, and poured himself a cup. Then he sat at his computer and forced himself to stare at his formal proposal for the new snack cake line that Dad had told him to work up the other day.

  “Oh, good, you found the coffee.”

  Josh looked up.

  Kimmie gave him a hesitant smile, then slowly lowered herself into the chair across from him. She’d tied her hair at her nape, but wisps circled her head. Her eyes were clear, if not as bright as they’d been yesterday, her skin glowing.

  She still hadn’t put on a bra.

  His dick stirred again. “Any good dreams?” he said.

  “Nothing as good as the intergalactic princess dream.” She shifted in her chair, and he realized she was tucking her legs up under her. “I was thinking about things, and it shouldn’t be hard to convince my mom that telling Bliss that you own half the bakery is the best way to get rid of you. Half the town has already threatened you, right? I can tell her I was going for power in numbers. More people to convince you to leave. Since I, erm, failed at the whole seduction thing.”

  Ironic, with him sitting there unable to suppress a woody. “She’ll believe that?”

  “I’m incapable of lying to my mother.”

  He lifted a brow.

  “Disappointing as it is, she knows I’m a cupcake. I’ll never sprout tiers or be worthy of being wrapped in a whole sheet of fondant and then topped with flowers and a bride and groom statue.”

  His lips parted. “You believe that bullshit?”

  “I don’t know.” She sucked half of her full, pink bottom lip into her mouth. “I cowered in my room and let you handle her yesterday morning. That’s pretty cupcakey.”

  Josh rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d provoked Marilyn, and he couldn’t deny it. Marilyn wouldn’t have had reason to blow up yesterday if Josh wasn’t smack-dab in the middle of their lives. “You’re running a dirty cupcake business under her nose. That takes balls.”

  “I prefer to say it takes caramel fudge filling.”

  Of course she did. He huffed out a half chuckle. “Point is, you’re more than your mother gives you credit for.”

  She had that agitated, about-to-spit-out-a-dream look on her face again. “There’s more.”

  He shut his laptop. “Go on.”

  “I’ve decided to take your cupcake offer.”

  His heart jumped, and his jaw worked up and down.

  That was relatively easy. Too easy. “You sure?”

  “My mother can’t know.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But I was thinking about your equipment—” a jagged blush crept up her cheeks, as if she were thinking of his personal equipment “—and I can’t just hand you a recipe and expect it’ll work, and I don’t think any of the recipes that are mine will work on your machinery thingies. So I’ll need a week or two.”

  This was Kimmie. She was the cake whisperer. No doubt, she’d have them done and running on the lab test equipment within three days of starting. “We can probably work with that.”

  “And as for buying my mom out… She’s really busy with Knot Fest stuff. I’ll talk to her, but I need some time. And you can’t be there. Don’t even offer.”

  “There goes your caramel fudge filling again,” he murmured.

  She blushed deeper, but she didn’t break eye contact. “And I want my lawyer to look at my contract with Sweet Dreams, or my agreement with you, before I sign it.”

  “Ah, there’s your mother coming out.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Do you want to d
o business with me or not?”

  He grinned. He couldn’t help himself. She was freaking adorable. “Absolutely, sugar.”

  “Quit calling me sugar.” She started to stand, but then paused. “One last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I get my mom to agree to sell me her half of the bakery, is there any possibility, sometime in the future, that you might sell me your half too?”

  The girl wasn’t a cupcake. She was a shark in a cupcake wrapper. She just didn’t know it.

  And that was yet another odd turn-on. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

  She flashed him a sweet, honest smile. “Thank you. Oh! And I want the business plan you offered too.”

  “Got it right here.”

  “And one of Santa Claus’s reindeer.”

  “One of—”

  Her laughter echoed off the walls. “Gotcha.”

  She did.

  In a strange, unexpected way, she had a piece of him. Which piece, he was afraid to name. But she had it.

  15

  Tweeted @ChiTownGossip: If He Likes It, Why Hasn’t He Put A Ring On It? #Joshmie #Wedding #Where’sTheBling?

  Kimmie was well aware that cupcakes weren’t supposed to have any business sense.

  But she’d heard her mother discussing business issues—payroll, supplies, cake prices, seasonal fluctuations, insurance, competition, emergencies—for years. And she’d had a front-row seat to the disaster of the flood five years ago, watching her mother’s shock of barely having enough flood insurance to cover repairs to Heaven’s Bakery, and then the double-whammy of seeing that the Knot Fest and Bridal Retailers Association coffers weren’t deep enough to cover replacing and repairing the supplies and infrastructure needed to run Knot Festival with the degree of perfection General Mom demanded of everything she did.

  Kimmie couldn’t deliver that same kind of perfection, but she knew more than she let people believe. And before breakfast was halfway over, she suspected Josh was catching on.

  But he waited until they’d both sat back from their syrup-coated plates, and until he had a second cup of coffee, before he called her on it. “Does your mother know you’re competent enough to run Heaven’s Bakery?”