Making Whoopie

by Erin Nicholas

  Dark good looks made some things easier to overlook for sure.

  “So I’m just going to go,” Josie said, scooting her chair back and standing.

  It seemed imperative, suddenly, that she get out of here.

  “You really think you’re just going to get away with acting weird and leaving?” Zoe asked. “Really?”

  Josie gripped the back of her chair and pressed her lips together. She looked from Zoe to Jane. Then to Grant. She lingered there. Then looked at Zoe again. Josie shook her head. “No, I know you’re not going to let it go, but for now, it would be great if you’d just… give me some space.”

  Zoe’s eyebrows went up again, but her look didn’t say you’re-full-of-shit. She looked concerned. “Just tell me you really are okay. Like mostly, generally, for the most part, okay.”

  “I am,” Josie promised. “It’s just… weird. You’re going to think it’s super weird when I tell you, I promise.”

  “You’re going to tell me too,” Jane interjected. “For sure.”

  Josie nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Will we need wine?” Jane asked.

  “Spiked lemonade,” Josie said. “Lots of spiked lemonade.”

  “Got it,” Jane said.

  For the three of them “spiked lemonade” generally meant there was a family issue or a guy issue they needed to talk about. Otherwise they stuck with the mellow, happy effects of wine. Spiked lemonade was for the serious stuff that needed numbing or the tearing down of inhibitions or both.

  “’Night, everyone,” Josie said, looking around the table. She saved Grant for last.

  She didn’t know him. He wasn’t a friend or a member of her friends-that-were-family family. He was a friend of a friend—two of them actually—so that meant that he had potential to be a part of that family though. Eventually.

  And she was really going to have to figure out how to not have dirty thoughts about him when they were doing the simple family stuff with the rest of these nice people. Especially if, God forbid, he ever brought a date.

  She shuddered. Then rolled her eyes at herself. She was jealous of a possible future date of the guy who wasn’t her type and who didn’t even like her cupcakes?

  Everyone liked her cupcakes.

  She couldn’t date a guy who didn’t like her cupcakes.

  That would be like a… painter who dated a guy who didn’t love art. Or woman running a dog rescue who dated a guy who hated dogs.

  No, actually, no one should date someone who hated dogs. That was just wrong on every level.

  Still, she couldn’t date a guy who didn’t swoon over her cupcakes. Period.

  Grant Lorre only bought muffins and scones. Those were Zoe’s specialties. Everything in the bakery was made from Zoe’s family’s recipes, of course. But Zoe wasn’t as… culinarily gifted… as Josie was. It wasn’t an insult to her friend. It was just a fact. Like saying Zoe had more freckles or Josie had bigger boobs. Josie was just better in the kitchen. So Zoe stuck to the basics. Muffins, cookies, scones. Zoe could decorate the basic cookies and cupcakes, of course. She’d been doing it since she was old enough to hold a whisk. But if anyone needed something special—a cake that looked like a dinosaur or cupcakes that looked like cats—that was Josie’s expertise.

  She always did a few cute little things for the bakery case to go alongside the basic vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry with the swirled icing. And she wouldn’t lie, she loved the fact that her stuff usually sold out first.

  But not to Grant Lorre.

  Grant stuck with the basics.

  He had no idea how moist and sweet her cupcakes really were.

  And yeah, she meant that to sound a little dirty. Even if it was only in her head.

  She was losing it.

  “’Night, Jose,” everyone echoed in multiple variations as she started for the front door. She couldn’t face Maggie again. Maggie would either get even more worried… or she’d figure out Josie was lying about not feeling well.

  She was feeling fine. Horny. But fine.

  She really didn’t want to explain that to the group at dinner.

  “I’m going to head out too.”

  Josie froze in the doorway between the dining room and foyer as Grant spoke. She slowly turned back.

  Grant was getting to his feet. He laid his napkin by his plate and smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt as he stepped around his chair.

  “No dessert?” Dax asked. Dax Marshall never skipped dessert.

  “Nah. I have some stuff I need to do yet tonight,” Grant said.

  “Something more important than lemon cake?” Dax said, clearly not believing it.

  “Definitely,” Grant answered.

  Then he glanced at Josie.

  2

  Her heart stopped.

  Just for a second. Maybe two. But it actually happened. And she realized that, for some reason, Grant Lorre was following her out of the house on purpose.

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow at the office,” Grant said to Aiden. “And you… sometime, I assume?” he asked Dax.

  Dax grinned. “I’ll stop by. I know you miss me when I’m not there.”

  “Yep. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  Dax had been a partner at Hot Cakes, the snack cake company that Aiden and Grant, along with their other partners, had taken over. But Dax had given up his shares so that he could date Jane. Since she worked for the company, she’d refused to go out with him while he was her boss.

  Dax giving up the potential for millions of dollars of profit to be with Jane was the most romantic thing that Josie had ever heard, and she sighed a little every time she thought of it.

  He now owned the nursing home where Jane’s dad lived and was working to remodel it and introduce several new, innovative eldercare programs. Honestly, that was also all because he’d fallen in love with Jane, and Josie knew that any guy who came along for her now was going to be measured by the Dax Marshall standard.

  She was so screwed. Who was going to be able to compete with all of that?

  And it wasn’t even the money. Dax definitely had enough of that to throw at any and all of Jane’s problems. Whether or not she would let him do that was another issue, but still, money was no object. But Josie wasn’t expecting to meet a guy whose wallet could measure up to Dax’s. It was his heart that she admired. His willingness to do whatever it took to make sure Jane—and the people she loved—were safe and happy.

  But while money made that easier, it wasn’t the primary factor. Her father and grandfather were two of the most romantic, caring, generous men she knew. And neither of them had ever had more than a couple thousand bucks in the bank at one time. They’d both lived paycheck to paycheck—her dad still did—but they still provided a safe, happy, loving home and treated their wives like queens.

  Just queens without jewels or gold or servants.

  That was what Josie wanted. Just to be loved with someone’s whole heart. Even if all they had to give in the romance department was a Netflix subscription and microwave popcorn every weekend. That would matter as much as someone else giving her diamonds and trips to Paris.

  “You already made it through that month’s supply of gummy bears I sent you and you need some more?” Dax asked Grant with a grin.

  Grant lifted a brow.

  “He donated them to the Candy Apple,” Aiden said, referring to the candy and ice cream shop in town. “They’re making some special sundae with gummy bears on top. What’s it called again?” He directed the question at Grant. Aiden wore a grin that said he knew the answer, and he was enjoying this immensely.

  Dax turned interested eyes on the more serious of his two friends. “Yes, what’s it called, Grant?”

  Grant shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “The Gooey Gummy Grant,” Henry piped up.

  Everyone looked at him. The little boy had been so quiet Josie had almost forgotten he was there. Okay, she’d probably almost forgotten beca
use she’d been too distracted by Grant tonight to remember much of anything. Like to keep her heart beating steadily, for instance.

  “No they’re not!” Dax crowed, clearly delighted.

  “Seriously,” Henry said. “It’s strawberry ice cream and marshmallow fluff with gummy bears and whipped cream and sprinkles. They sell it for twenty-five percent off the price of the other sundaes because the gummy bears are free because of Grant.”

  Dax’s mouth was hanging open in obvious glee when he looked back to Grant. “I. Love. Everything. About. That.”

  “That was not what was supposed to happen,” Grant said. “I went back in and asked them to not call it that but they insisted.”

  “You mean Betty insisted,” Aiden said. “No one says no to Betty.”

  It was true. Betty Andrews was the owner of the Candy Apple and was the sweetest woman on the planet. She had a way of making the people around her feel like they had brought such joy and sunshine into her life just by being there, and no one ever had the heart to say or do anything that might disappoint her.

  Josie found herself fighting a smile as she watched Grant. He was clearly uncomfortable with being associated with something gooey and gummy.

  And now she wanted to cover him in marshmallow fluff.

  Which was a vast improvement over cheesy potatoes, so there was that.

  “You gave Grant a month’s supply of gummy bears?” Zoe asked, going back to the previous point. “Question one, how many is that? And question two, why?”

  “Well, assuming that a guy would need about four to five ounces of gummy bears a day,” Dax said seriously. “Rounding up, of course, to be safe, that comes out to about nine and a half pounds of gummy bears for a month.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “Nine and a half pounds?”

  “Roughly,” Dax said with a nod.

  Aiden was laughing out loud now.

  “And to answer your second question,” Dax said, glancing at Grant, “because Grant needs a little sweetness in his life, and if I’m not there for him every day, that is going to be sorely lacking.”

  Zoe laughed and Grant rolled his eyes. But his expression was one of resigned affection.

  That did something funny to Josie’s stomach.

  It was one thing to see him every morning just looking good—confident and sophisticated and powerful in his suit and tie. It was something else to see him charming and friendly with Zoe’s parents and then goofing around with his friends. Not that Grant was goofing around. There was definitely something about him that made Josie certain Grant Lorre didn’t goof. But the way he rolled with the punches from Dax and Aiden—and yes, the way it was clear he cared about his friends, even if he and Dax were night and day in personality—made her like him.

  Dammit. First romanticizing the way he’d caught her in his arms, then lusting after him, and now liking him too? Great. That wasn’t the way to get over a crush.

  “I don’t know,” Zoe said, looking from Dax to Grant to Josie. “Grant’s been coming into the bakery really regularly. Maybe he’s found another way of getting a little sweetness in his day.”

  “Has he now?” Dax asked, arching a brow at Grant.

  “I need to get going,” Grant said. He started for the front door.

  Which meant he started in Josie’s direction. For a minute there she’d become a simple observer of the scene playing out in front of her. But she was still standing here, and he was now coming toward her, and pretty soon he was going to be right in front of her and…

  She suddenly straightened, her heart pounding as he drew near.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  Her eyes widened at his words. It wasn’t really a question. Or even an offer. It sounded a lot like a command.

  “I’m… fine.”

  He was only a few inches away—the doorway was only so wide after all—and he smelled really good, and he was really tall next to her, and yeah, she remembered that chest and those arms really well and…

  “We’re going in the same direction,” he pointed out.

  Right. They were both walking out to their cars, which were parked in front of the McCafferys’ house. It didn’t really matter if she was fine. Or not. Him walking out with her was more of a just-the-way-it-was-going-to-happen than him taking care of her.

  That was a very weird thought to go flitting through her mind just then.

  He didn’t really come across as the warm-and-fuzzy-nurturer type. She also didn’t need anyone taking care of her, thank you very much.

  Still…

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Sure of the marshmallow-fluff-all-over-his-body thing? Or the curl-up-in-his-lap thing? Or the big-hands-rubbing-her-feet thing? Because yes. To all of that.

  “About?” she asked.

  “Being fine?”

  She was kind of staring at him. And not moving. And not turning and walking toward the front door of the house the way she should be.

  “Oh yes. Mostly,” she said.

  He didn’t seem convinced. But he didn’t press. He just gestured toward the door.

  She gave the dining room—which was surprisingly quiet at the moment—a little wave, carefully not making eye contact with anyone. Zoe and Jane were no doubt watching her with what-the-hell expressions. Then she pivoted and made her feet carry her toward Maggie’s front door.

  Grant reached around her to open the door for her, emphasizing that he smelled good and that he was a gentleman, in spite of barely speaking to her after catching her in midair—twice.

  She stepped out onto the porch and sucked in a deep breath, hoping that would help. But Grant stepped out behind her and shut the door. Which meant they were now alone. In the almost-dark of the early summer night. And that didn’t really help with her lust-and-like-and-why-isn’t-he-attracted-to-me daze at all.

  The disappointment of that last part was the sharpest. That surprised her. It wasn’t as if every man she met fell at her feet. It wasn’t as if every man she was attracted to was automatically attracted to her. It just didn’t work that way. But she was far more disheartened by Grant Lorre’s lack of interest than she had been in a long time. Okay, ever.

  Mostly, Josie believed that when the time was right, the right guy would come along, and she’d get her happily ever after. That had been validated even further by her two best friends finding true love when they’d been least expecting it. Falling in love wasn’t something you could put in your planner.

  So when things didn’t work out with a guy she liked or even one she’d gone out with a few times, she didn’t get overly upset about it.

  But Grant Lorre was upsetting her.

  It was crazy.

  She stopped at her car, debating what to say to him. Just a simple good night seemed most appropriate. She turned to speak and was startled to find him right behind her. Very close. Closer than two casual acquaintances should probably stand in the dark.

  Close enough it should have seemed creepy.

  It didn’t. At all.

  She wanted to take the little step that would bring her right up against him and press her nose to his chest and take a big, deep breathe. She would bet the combination of his cologne and laundry detergent would make her stomach flip a lot like it had when he’d reacted to the Gooey Gummy Grant.

  “It’s not really my business, I realize,” he said.

  Was it the dim evening light making his voice sound huskier?

  “But I don’t really think you are okay. Is there anything I can do?”

  Josie peered up at him. He was tall. Well, she was short. So he was definitely tall next to her, but he was just tall too. He had to be about six-three or so.

  “I’m…” She really did almost say fine. But at the last minute she said, “Stupid.”

  Clearly that wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “Stupid?”

  She blew out a breath. “Yeah. But it’s not really anything for you to worry about. It’s not fatal or anything.”
>
  “Is it chronic?” he asked.

  And the corner of his mouth curled.

  And she was never getting over this crush now.

  She nodded. “I think so. At least, very long lasting.”

  “How long?”

  “How long are you going to be in town?”

  Oops. That she had definitely not meant to say.

  He frowned. “That’s a good question. But I’m not sure how it relates to your stupidity problem.”

  She sighed. “I bet if you think about it you could come up with a guess.”

  He did think about it. Seemingly. Then he took a small step forward. “I have something to do with your stupidity?”

  Oh what the hell? He was a friend of a friend, but he didn’t live here. He didn’t know her. Her friends were going to find out soon enough—from her—that she had a thing for this guy. They were hopefully going to help her drink it away. So what would it matter if she confessed?

  “You have everything to do with it.”

  His eyebrows rose. “How?”

  “Well, it seems that I have a little thing for you, and it was fine when you had only saved my neck. But then you started coming to the bakery and I saw you every day. But you didn’t even really want to talk to me. You definitely didn’t want to flirt. Which I didn’t love, but I could get over after you walked out with your scones and hot water.”

  Why did she mention the hot water? She wasn’t sure. Maybe just because it was definitely a sign her fascination with him was crazy.

  “But now you’re coming to dinner here. At this place I love with these people I love. And you’re being charming and… long suffering, which I find funny and endearing… and it just makes it harder to not be disappointed that my crush on you isn’t reciprocal.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “But,” she added, before he had a chance to respond, “it's fine. I’m a grown-up, and while getting worked up over cheesy potatoes is annoying, I can deal with it.”