Must Love Frosting

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  They always left the screw-ups to Merit. He did own most of ‘em, but suddenly it didn’t seem fair to always expect him to mess up.

  Asher rinsed plates and handed them over one at a time. “I don’t think it’s such a big deal. And really, if you think a piece of cake has the power to jinx your relationship, maybe you and Robert shouldn’t be getting married in the first place.”

  She huffed out a breath and paused. “Well, hell, when you put it like that…”

  When she didn’t add more, he prompted, “So…are you going to hire her or not?”

  Celia gave him a longer, measuring look. “You really love her cakes, don’t you?”

  Oh yeah. And he liked the woman just as much. Maybe more.

  Definitely more.

  “All I’m saying is it seems kind of shitty to give her the job and then take it away again because of something Roxanna said. As Honor pointed out, a few divorces out of a couple hundred couples isn’t exactly shocking. I’m sure the divorce attorneys at your firm can back that up.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but I don’t want to be one of the few.”

  “That’s on you and Robert, not the person who bakes your wedding cake.”

  Shelby and Loyal walked in as Celia set the last plate in the rack. Asher shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry his hands while turning to lean back against the sink.

  Loyal nudged their youngest sister’s arm. “I told you they’d be done if we waited long enough.”

  She tossed him a grin, but Celia ignored the two as she met Asher’s gaze and shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Are you two talking about what happened with the cake baker last night?” Shelby asked.

  “Yeah.” Celia closed and started the dishwasher. “Asher’s playing major defense.”

  Loyal’s humor vanished in the blink of an eye. “He always defends that quack friend of his.”

  Asher stiffened, and he and Shelby said at the same time, “She’s not a quack.”

  “Actually, he was defending Honor,” Celia corrected. Her brown gaze fixed on his face. “This is more than you liking the woman’s cakes. Come on. Spill.”

  Knowing they’d hound him for the truth, it was easier to fess up now than later. His neck warmed as he admitted, “She moved into the house across from me last week. I’m simply being neighborly.”

  “Right,” Shelby scoffed. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with how pretty she is.”

  “She is very pretty,” Celia agreed.

  Whether dressed up for a formal event, or barefoot in her kitchen with no make-up and messy hair, she was stunning.

  But then his youngest sister’s eyebrows drew together. “You did hear Roxanna, though, didn’t you? She said Honor doesn’t believe in love.”

  The words came out like a warning. Because they’d all had it drummed into them for years; Diamonds don’t divorce.

  “Roxanna doesn’t know everything,” Loyal snapped.

  Ignoring the dig at his best friend, Asher said, “Anything is possible once someone meets the right person.”

  His older brother gave a disgusted snort and strode from the kitchen.

  Shelby frowned at his back, but Celia’s gaze stayed on Asher. “You think you’re the right person?”

  He shrugged even as his heart answered, Yes.

  Celia looked skeptical. “You better make sure Roxanna’s wrong before you get in too deep,” she warned.

  Before he could respond, her fiancé leaned through the doorway. “You ready to head out, babe? I was hoping to fit in a few hours of work before the fundraiser.”

  Goodbye’s were said, and Asher encouraged Shelby to still invite Merit along to look at her proposed veterinary clinic before ducking out himself. As he reached to insert the key in the ignition of his Camaro, he got a text from Roxanna.

  Rox: Did you happen to see your neighbor while she was baking cupcakes recently?

  A shiver snaked down his spine. No matter how many times she did that, it was still eerie as all hell.

  Asher: Last night. Why?

  Rox: There is hope yet.

  He frowned at his phone. What does that mean?

  Rox: Nothing. Carry on.

  Except with her, nothing was ever nothing. Not that she’d explain more. She never did.

  Asher: Freak.

  Rox: Love you, too.

  Asher: So I’m forgiven, then?

  Rox: You were forgiven last night. Am I?

  Asher: Of course. I know your heart’s in the right place.

  Rox: Good. I think yours might be, too.

  Well, that was awfully cryptic. Typical Rox.

  Despite the urge to hurry home, he made a quick detour onto Aspen Street and parked in the back of Lift Your Spirit shortly after one p.m. With Roxanna, face to face sometimes netted better results. Sometimes.

  He used his master key to enter the back, an invite she’d extended from the day he’d purchased the building six years ago and offered her prime rental space. She looked up from the register and gave him a smile. Despite the recent text exchange, her welcome was subdued as he approached.

  “How was brunch? Does everyone hate me?” Somehow, she sounded worried and mutinous at the same time.

  He cast an absent glance at the three girls having coffee at one of the café tables. There were a couple other browsing customers, but that was it. Being it was a Sunday, Roxanna was the only one manning the store. Her two part-time employees, Tessa and Darcy, worked Tuesdays through Saturday so she could give readings in the back room.

  “No one hates you.”

  Roxanna turned away as she mumbled, “Your brother does.”

  The misery in her voice made him frown. “You just have to ignore Loy—whoa.” He leaned over to peer closer at the top of the garbage. “Is that one of Honor’s cupcakes?”

  “Yes.” Rox reached to the side and picked up a half-eaten chocolate one on the counter he hadn’t even noticed. “And Oh. My. God,” she stage whispered. “I now understand your mouth orgasms.”

  “Why is that one in the garbage?” Indignation sharpened his voice. He’d eaten two of the lemon blueberry already and no way in hell did something so equally orgasm-worthy belong in the trash. Knowing he had one more waiting on his counter had him wiping his mouth to make sure he wasn’t drooling.

  “Because it hates me.”

  Asher raised his eyebrows, but she took a bite of the chocolate in her hand—the flavor that hadn’t been cooled enough for Honor to frost until after he’d left. But the batter had been divine.

  He watched her chew, envious it wasn’t his taste buds drowning in pleasure. “Why doesn’t that one hate you?”

  She gave a low hum of delight. “This one wants me. Better yet, it wants me to want it.”

  Her evocative tone summoned the image of Honor leaning forward to suck the chocolate batter from his finger. His blood heated with the sensual memory. Now he wanted a taste of the baked version so bad he reached out to pluck the last bite from Roxanna’s hand.

  She moved faster than he expected, twisting her body to protect her treasure. “Keep your dirty paws to yourself,” she growled before stuffing the rest in her mouth.

  He snorted at her chipmunk cheeks. “How’d you get these anyway?”

  She finished chewing before telling him about Honor’s visit a short fifteen minutes ago, and her offer to sell the cupcakes to make up for the party fiasco. “I sold four while she was standing here, but all she did was storm back out as mad as when she came in.”

  “Can you really blame her?”

  Rox shrugged.

  Asher glanced at the garbage again. Could he pull that one out? It was just sitting on some crumpled packing paper. He was jonesing for some frosting since his mother had gotten rid of all the anniversary cake, “Just to be safe.” God Bless Elena for saving the few pieces she’d sent home with him last night. But those were all the way at home, and this one was right here.

  “Don’
t you dare,” Rox warned. “Not in front of my customers.”

  He made a face and asked, “Why does this one hate you?”

  “She was pissed off at me when she was baking that flavor.” Her nose scrunched with distaste. “It was horrible. The frosting didn’t even taste sweet.”

  “What? I had one last night and this morning and both were awesome—especially the frosting.”

  “This morning?” Roxanna’s eyebrows sailed skyward. “Did you spend the night?”

  I wish.

  “No. I washed dishes and she sent me home with a plate of cupcakes as payment.” After two insanely hot kisses. He gave her a mock glare for not sharing. “I didn’t get any of the chocolate ones, though. She had just started those when I got there.”

  Her smug grin suddenly had him thinking back to what she’d said a moment ago. Honor was pissed off at Rox when making the lemon blueberry. And then he showed up for the chocolate—the flavor that made his psychic best friend groan with ecstasy.

  He lifted his gaze to Roxanna’s. “The chocolate wanted you, hey?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wanted you to want it?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her grin widened. “Very much so.”

  He nodded and backed toward the door. Face to face had paid off with huge dividends.

  “Where ya goin’, Ace?”

  “To get myself a chocolate cupcake.”

  And hopefully more.

  Chapter 16

  Wednesday night, Honor slipped beneath the covers, happy to be off her feet after another full day of baking. She reached for the lined, yellow slip of paper she’d left on her nightstand Sunday night and leaned back against her headboard to read it. Again.

  Sorry I missed you. I’m leaving for a few days for work, but I have your plate. Call me to discuss my ransom demands.

  There was a phone number, but no name. However, she didn’t have to be psychic to know the strong, bold handwriting belonged to Asher. It was confident, sexy, and the whole darn note was oh so tempting.

  Exactly like the man.

  Four days ago, after her stop at Lift Your Spirit, she’d fumed through lunch with her mom and Glory, then made an impromptu visit to Mae’s house on the way home that turned into dinner, a movie with Ian, and girl talk over wine after her godson went to bed. She’d come home after midnight to find the yellow paper taped to her door and was disappointed to have missed him. Since then, she’d reread his note a dozen times, a smile tugging at her lips every time.

  She’d resisted calling him so far, but her willpower was wearing thin. On the one hand, she didn’t want to encourage him. On the other, she wanted him bad enough to encourage the hell out him. He’d been right—the insane attraction went both ways.

  The clock on her alarm clock ticked to 10:34 p.m. as her finger hovered over Asher’s name in her contact list. It was nothing more than a phone call. She could handle a friendly conversation with her neighbor. Better than face to face, right?

  Right.

  He’d said he’d be gone a few days, and tomorrow was Thursday. If she waited any longer to call, he’d be back and standing at her front door.

  Or she’d be at his. If that happened, all bets were off.

  The moment she touched the screen to make the connection, her heart rate doubled.

  “Hello?”

  The gravelly rumble of his voice over the line robbed her of her breath. Honor managed a quick inhale as an involuntary smile curved her lips. The question in his greeting meant her name hadn’t registered on his caller ID.

  “I won’t pay ransom without proof of life,” she demanded. Or tried to. It was kind of hard to sound badass when she was smiling.

  It only took about two seconds before his chuckle filled her ear. “Honor.”

  Happiness warmed his sexy voice and strummed desire deep in her core. Well, damn. This wasn’t much better than face to face—and worse, she didn’t have the option of reaching out to touch.

  That’s the point, dummy. Keep your hands off your neighbor.

  “I gave up hope you’d call,” he said.

  “Well, it is just a plate,” she teased.

  “Oh, it’s so much more than a plate.”

  It was an open invitation to see her again. While watching him walk across the street the other night, she’d declared her subconscious a genius. But to acknowledge that with him right now would be too encouraging. Even so, she was tempted.

  The sound of rustling sheets sent her gaze back to the clock on her nightstand. “Am I calling too late? Did I wake you?” She wasn’t completely used to her new schedule, so it still seemed early to her.

  “It’s all good. I have a sunrise shoot in the morning, but haven’t been able to fall asleep yet.”

  Oh, boy.

  That brought a familiar fantasy to the surface. Asher in bed. Shirtless. Covers riding low.

  “The one good thing about a three a.m. wake up call is I’ll be home before noon,” he added.

  “Three a.m.? That’s less than five hours from now. I should let you go,” she said, though genuinely reluctant to do so.

  “Hell no. I want to hear your voice.”

  Those words had her fighting a giddy grin while snuggling down into her pillows. He might not be able to see her, but he’d definitely hear it if she let it loose. “Where’s your shoot?”

  “Pike’s Peak. I’m doing the photos for a new sales brochure for a local climbing school.”

  “I love that area. Do you climb, too, or just stand back and take the pictures?”

  “I climb whenever I get the chance.”

  “With ropes and stuff?”

  “When I’m working, the ropes are necessary so I can get my shots. If I’m climbing for fun, I do a little freestyle here and there.”

  And that’s where the muscled forearms came from. She closed her eyes and pictured him leaning on her island counter again, his defined arms tan against his white shirt sleeves.

  “Is it dangerous?” The idea of him hanging onto a rock by nothing more than his fingertips made her heart thump with apprehension.

  “I’m careful.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that,” she admitted.

  “Would you like to?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.”

  “Sure you are,” he countered. “I’ll take you some time and keep you safe. Better yet, I’m skydiving end of June for a job. Start there and everything else will be a piece of cake.”

  The thought of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane made her stomach drop right out from under her. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard no.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not a risk-taker.”

  “I don’t know about that. You started a business by yourself. You bought a house by yourself. You called me.”

  She smiled at that last part. “It took me four days to call you. As for the house and my business, depending on my skills didn’t seem risky to me. I know I can depend on myself. The closest I want to come to anything like what you do is the proposal I arranged last year at the top of a mountain for a couple who were climbers.”

  “That wasn’t the one no on your record, was it? Cuz that would’ve really sucked to get all the way up there and get shot down.”

  “No, it wasn’t the no. Thank goodness.”

  Another low, sexy chuckle from him curled her toes.

  “You are quite the contradiction, Honor Hartman.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You supposedly don’t believe in love, but you help people get engaged and bake their wedding cakes.”

  “Yeah, because it’s what I do,” she rationalized. “I get paid for it.”

  He made a noise that could’ve been agreement or not. “And that one no bothers you even though you had absolutely nothing to do with the woman’s answer.”

  This time, she made the noncommittal noise, though it did bother her. A lot. Didn’t mean she believed in love, though.
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  “Also, I heard you’re baking cupcakes for Roxanna, but I thought you were mad at her.”

  “No, she’s selling my cupcakes. It’s the least she can do—especially since the blog writer isn’t interested in what I have to say, and she still refuses to admit she had it all wrong.”

  Says the girl who one second ago silently insisted she doesn’t believe in love.

  That damn voice inside never knew when to shut up.

  She quickly added, “Besides, it’s a long way from making up for all my cancellations after that stupid post on the society blog.”

  “That bad?” he asked with a wince in his voice.

  “Eight cancellations so far, and no new cake bookings or proposal consults.”

  “Ouch. Sorry.”

  She sighed. “At least the cupcakes are selling. Two dozen today, and she asked me to bring three dozen for tomorrow.”

  “What kind did you make?”

  “Chocolate, and orange dreamsicle.”

  He gave an appreciative hmm. “That’s what I want for ransom. Two chocolate ones.”

  “You know it’s customary, and polite, to return a dish with a reciprocal offering, not demand more, right?” She wanted to be indignant, but once more she was smiling.

  “Two chocolate cupcakes or the plate gets it.”

  And now she was laughing.

  “Did you think of me when you made them?” he asked.

  Her laugh faded under the force of her racing pulse. When she’d taste-tested the batter earlier, she’d relived the erotic feel of his finger in her mouth. And she’d leaned against the counter, eyes closed as she recalled how he’d cupped her face in his hands before he kissed her. The feel of his mouth on hers, the taste of him on her tongue, the strength of his body pressing hers into the counter…until the shrill beep of the timer jolted her back to reality.

  “Honor?”

  Her name in his husky voice was so much better than the timer.

  Don’t admit you were thinking of him.

  Do. Not. Admit. It.

  “Maybe,” she whispered.

  “That’s a yes.” A satisfied smile tinged his voice. “On that note, I will say goodnight, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”