Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3)

by Erin Nicholas

  He saw when another stab of pain hit. She winced and held her breath for a second.

  That was enough. He bent, scooped her into his arms, and started for the door.

  “Grant—”

  “We’re going to the doctor. We’ll figure the rest out later,” he said.

  “But I—”

  “Jocelyn,” he said firmly. “You’re going to have to learn that I don’t really like to be argued with when I’m right about something. And I’m almost always right.”

  “But—”

  “Jocelyn, enough.”

  She stopped arguing then.

  But only because she threw up on him.

  9

  Well, she might have ruined Grant wanting to take care of her no matter what.

  In the process she’d probably taken care of him wanting to stick around Appleby indefinitely as well.

  She’d definitely taken care of the ever-getting-naked-together again.

  But honestly, at the moment, she couldn’t care.

  She felt horrible. She was huddled against the door of Grant’s car trying with everything in her to not throw up again. She’d heard him talking brusquely to someone, asking them to meet him in Bridley, the town eight miles away that had the closest urgent care clinic. She assumed it was one of the guys and they were bringing him a change of clothes. She also assumed that whichever guy it was, soon Jane and Zoe would know about what was going on.

  This could not be her appendix. She could not have her appendix out. Besides, not being able to take time off from work for that and not being able to afford it was terrifying. Taking internal organs out of her body? Yikes. Yeah, she knew that millions of people walked around without that particular organ. It was pretty routine surgery. The appendix was, arguably, not all that useful. Still, the whole thing made her feel even queasier than she already was.

  They pulled up in front of the clinic minutes later, and when she reached for the door handle she got a firm, “Stop.”

  Grant got out, rounded the car, and again scooped her up into his arms. Even after she’d thrown up on him. That was pretty nice.

  She actually thought she could walk at this point. She was still not feeling good, but she didn’t feel like she couldn’t walk. Then again, if Grant wanted to snuggle her against his hard, warm chest, who was she to argue. After the puke-down-his left-arm-and-shoe thing, this might be the last time she got to be this close to his chest. So she rested her head on it and closed her eyes.

  She heard him talking to whomever he needed to tell what was going on.

  She thought she heard the term girlfriend, but she couldn’t be sure. She was sure she heard cash. She really should argue with him about paying for this. But she didn’t have the energy. Not because she wasn’t feeling well but because, dammit, Grant was bossy and stubborn and always thought he was right. He’d said so.

  She’d deal with how to pay him back later. And no, it wouldn’t be in sexual favors. That was tempting, for sure. But also gross. Kind of. Somehow. Immoral anyway. Kind of.

  Yeah, she’d think about all of that later.

  Grant settled into a chair in the waiting room, with her on his lap.

  Reluctantly, Josie lifted her head and started to get up to get into a chair of her own. Grant’s arms tightened around her. “Just stay,” he said gruffly.

  “But—”

  “Stay,” he said again, pulling her up against him.

  And really, why argue with a guy who was saying things that you liked and wanted to agree with?

  She relaxed back into his hold.

  “Are you okay?” he asked against her hair.

  “Um…” She thought about his question. “I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up. The pain has lessened. But I feel… weird. And still achy in my shoulder blade.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t know if it was okay exactly, but they were here now. She had to admit that she felt relieved to know that she was with medical professionals, and before they left here she’d have an answer about what was going on. Fixing it was something else. Could she afford it? What would it entail? Could she afford it?

  But first she needed to know what she was dealing with.

  “Hey, here you go.”

  She looked up to see that Cam had joined them. He held out a duffle bag to Grant.

  “Thanks.” Grant looked down at her. “Can you sit with her while I change?”

  “Of course.”

  “Grant, I don’t need a babysitter,” she protested.

  “Humor me,” he said.

  There was something in his eyes. It was almost as if he needed Cam there more than she did.

  “Okay.”

  He rose and crossed the waiting room to the door marked as a restroom.

  Cam leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m in urgent care after barfing on the guy I would much rather be naked with right now,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Cam grinned. “Fair enough. How are you feeling? Physically?”

  She sighed. She’d known Cam all her life. She wasn’t sure what it meant that Grant had called Cam. Maybe because he wasn’t currently dating one of her best friends. But maybe also because Grant knew she knew Cam well and would be comfortable with him.

  Cam had always been a little rough around the edges. He’d loved to poke at people and had gotten into more than his share of fights at school and had never missed a chance to tease Zoe, or Josie by extension, but he was a very loyal friend and son and brother.

  Josie was completely comfortable with him here. “I’m… fine. Ish. I guess? I’m worried about what is going on,” she confessed. “But at this very moment, I’m not in horrible pain or anything.”

  Cam frowned. “You think it’s something bad?”

  She shrugged. “Grant mentioned my appendix.”

  Cam nodded. “Yeah. Guess that would make sense. But that’s almost nothing. I got mine out in high school.”

  She remembered that now that he said it. “Yeah. You’re right. It will be fine.” She was comfortable with Cam, but no way was she going to tell him that she was worried about the money. Her insurance situation would get back to Zoe for sure. If not directly, then to Aiden. She was sure Cam wouldn’t approve of Buttered Up not having solid employee benefits either.

  She’d been surprised that the bad boy Cam had gone into law. He’d seemed more the type to become a professional MMA fighter or to go into construction. Something where he got his hands dirty and could swing hammers—or his fists—and knock things—or people—down on a regular basis. She had a hard time picturing him in suits and ties and in courtrooms. But when she’d found out from Zoe that, while he did represent the guys’ company, Fluke Inc. when it came to trademarks and contracts and such, he also did a lot of pro bono work for small companies and nonprofits. He loved to go in as an underdog and fight larger corporations that were trying to screw over the smaller ones.

  That actually fit. Josie, of course, knew Cam’s whole history with Hot Cakes and the Lancaster family and Whitney. She knew he felt that Whitney had chosen her family and their business and money over being with him.

  That chip on his shoulder had manifested into him becoming a champion for smaller people fighting against bigger companies and Josie loved that.

  Cam was a fighter, and if he could do some good for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, then it was a perfect outcome.

  “So you’ve really got Grant all twisted up,” Cam said. He had an ankle propped on his other knee, one big hand resting on his leg, his arm muscles bunching. He said it casually, but he was watching her carefully.

  She gave him a look. “Do I?”

  “You don’t realize it?”

  “He told me that he didn’t intend to stay in Appleby this long, but that he’s basically here because of me,” she said.

  Cam nodded. “That’s really unusual for him. Grant never does anything he doesn’t want
to do.”

  Okay, it looked like she was going to get some insight into Grant from one of his best friends. She was completely here for this. She leaned in. “How about when he has to go chasing after Ollie and Dax?”

  “He only goes if he wants to. Otherwise he’ll send someone.”

  “So sometimes he wants to go after them?”

  Cam nodded. “Sometimes. Not that he’d ever admit it to them, but sometimes he finds what they’re doing is interesting, and he wants to see it up close. Often those things turn into new projects.”

  “If he thinks what they’re doing is silly and waste of time, that’s when he sends someone else to bail them out?”

  “Right.”

  “And his instincts are pretty good about which times he should go see it in person and which times it’s a waste?”

  “Spot on. Every time,” Cam said with a nod.

  Josie sat back in her chair. “I’m guessing he’s been in urgent cares or ERs with them before?”

  “More than once,” Cam confirmed.

  She sighed. “Maybe I’m a project, then? That’s what you’re saying?”

  Cam thought about that for a second. “It’s really not apples to apples,” he said.

  “No?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s never wanted to see either of them naked, and I’m certain he’s never…” Cam paused. Then grinned. “Eaten either of their cupcakes.”

  She blushed hot even as she laughed at his innuendo. “Well, that might muddy the picture a little.”

  “It’s just interesting,” Cam said.

  Interesting. She liked the word romantic better, but Cam McCaffery was definitely not the type to use the R word. Actually either R word—romantic or relationship. He’d sworn those off when he’d left Appleby and Whitney behind.

  Josie really didn’t want to be a project of Grant’s. She really didn’t. She didn’t want to be a problem he had to solve or a charity case he had to take care of. But here she was, in urgent care, and had already promised to pay cash for the visit.

  And she didn’t know how to change that. She could, would, pay him back, of course, but she would have to do it over time.

  That wouldn’t be humiliating at all.

  Her side twinged just then as if to remind her that this wasn’t really something she could change her mind about, however.

  The bathroom door opened, and Grant emerged, dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. He now had more casual shoes on as well. He looked different. Not as buttoned up and perfect. But he still made her heart thump. Maybe even more so dressed like this. More laid back. More like he might if he was just hanging around the house on a Saturday with her. Like if they were in a relationship and he was her boyfriend and—

  “Jocelyn Asher?” the nurse called just then.

  Josie sat up straight, jerked from her daydream. She opened her mouth to respond, but Grant beat her to it.

  “Yes. She’s right here.” He crossed to her swiftly.

  Cam rose and took the bag back from Grant. “You guys good? Want me to stay?”

  “Nah, I appreciate you coming though,” Grant said, taking Josie’s hand and pulling her to her feet.

  As if she couldn’t figure out how to stand up by herself? She wasn’t that bad off. Annoyed by the prospect of being a project to him, and annoyed that she wasn’t enjoying being taken care of as much now, she pulled her hand away.

  Grant gave her a little frown. She gave him one back.

  “Right this way, Ms. Asher,” the nurse said.

  Josie headed in that direction, aware of Grant right on her heels. Right on her heels. He literally stepped on the back of her shoe, pulling it off her heel.

  “Grant!” she snapped.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Josie wiggled her foot back into the shoe and gave the nurse a smile. “He’s a little on edge.”

  “She’s been having a lot of pain. It’s been getting worse. She started vomiting tonight,” Grant said.

  Josie rolled her eyes.

  The nurse nodded. “So I read.” She looked at Josie. “Do you want your… friend… in the room with you?”

  Josie glanced up at Grant. “Quit acting like a weirdo.”

  He gave her a bemused look. “I’m acting like a weirdo?”

  “Yes. Just… relax.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Yeah, Grant wasn’t really the relaxed type. He was intense and serious and a little broody and definitely bossy. “Can you just let them do their jobs at least?” Josie asked.

  “Are you going to listen to them?” he asked.

  “I really do need to get you back into a room,” the nurse interjected.

  Josie sighed and nodded. “We’re fine.”

  She, of course, wasn’t sure that was true at all. Physically or emotionally, for that matter. But it also looked like all of this was now out of her control. And not in the fun way that being out of control with Grant had been the night before.

  Three hours later, Grant followed Jocelyn into her kitchen again.

  He got the impression that she wanted him to leave her alone.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  She hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said much at all since the doctor had told her that she needed to have her gall bladder removed.

  Grant had asked more questions than she had.

  There had been the routine questions and taking of her vital signs. They’d done an exam which had led to a trip to the hospital in Dubuque for an ultrasound which had confirmed the doctor’s suspicion about her inflamed gall bladder.

  Apparently an angry gall bladder accounted for all of her symptoms, including the shoulder pain and the fact that the pain had come and gone for the past few weeks. He said he wasn’t surprised that she’d assumed she’d injured her shoulder at first. She was young and healthy and not in the typical demographic for gall bladder issues. But there were always exceptions, and the ultrasound had confirmed gallstones.

  He said it wasn’t something that had to be taken care of immediately—as in that night or the next day—but that her symptoms would definitely continue to worsen. She could control them to some extent with what she ate, but that his recommendation was to have the gall bladder removed. He assured her it was a simple surgery with a relatively easy recovery, especially for someone of her age and health.

  Jocelyn had gone very quiet after all of that.

  Now, back in her kitchen where it had all started, Grant was starting to get antsy with that.

  “Are you going to call the surgeon tomorrow?” he asked point-blank. That was really what he wanted to know. He could offer to make her a cup of tea or to rub her feet or to run out for some antacids or something, but she didn’t really need any of that. She needed to have her gall bladder taken out. And he really needed to know when she was going to get this taken care of.

  “I don’t know.” She rounded the middle island and went to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water. She twisted off the cap and leaned back against the counter, taking a long drink. She seemed lost in thought.

  Grant ground his teeth. This was not really any of this business, he reminded himself, but it not being his business didn’t seem to keep him from being concerned about it. Or prying.

  “You know what the problem is and you know how to solve it. Why wouldn’t you just make that phone call?” he asked.

  “Because I’m not ready to solve it,” she told him, finally meeting his eyes.

  She hadn’t even looked at him in over two hours.

  That had also been grating on his nerves. Not because he needed her to placate him, but because he got the definite impression she was not okay.

  “You’re not ready to solve it?” he repeated, moving forward to lean his hands onto the kitchen island. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, I need some time,” she said with a frown.

 
Lord save him from stubborn women. He had certainly dealt with his share of them. His sister, his grandmother, just to name two. He definitely ran into some in his seminars, but they were in the minority. When women signed up for his seminars, clearly they knew what they were coming for and chose to come to get his advice. They came to him. Because of his expertise. Because they wanted to hear what he had to say. Because they acknowledged that he was someone who knew what he was talking about. He could admit that was a part of the job that he really loved.

  “Some time for what?” he asked, trying to not let on that he was gritting his teeth. His fingers gripped the edge of the counter.

  “Time to think it through and plan,” she said with a frown. “It’s not something I can just do.”

  His eyebrows went up. “It’s something you need to do.”

  “I have a job, Grant,” she said, her tone snippy.

  Jocelyn didn’t seem the snappish type.

  Was that one of the reasons he’d been drawn to her? She’d seemed so sweet and docile and submissive? She’d seemed like the type of woman to listen to him and defer to his judgment?

  Fuck.

  Yes.

  He knew that a woman who was too submissive would not be someone he could be with long term, of course. He loved strong, independent women. Hell, he helped women become strong and independent. But for a short-term fling, did he like the idea of a woman who would think he had all the answers and would sweetly say yes to him over and over again?

  Yep.

  That was not Jocelyn Asher after all.

  And now, here he was, up to his eyeballs in caring about her and worrying about her enough to seriously consider throwing her over his shoulder and kidnapping her to the hospital to have her gall bladder taken out.

  He shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Your boss is your best friend. I’m certain if she knew what was going on she’d insist you get it taken care of as well,” Grant said, trying to keep his voice even.

  Jocelyn narrowed her eyes. “You’d better not even think about telling her. I will tell her about what the doctor said.”

  “You mean you’ll tell her a version of what the doctor said.”