by Lissa
Samantha’s happiness was infectious but it was tinged with a little pain for Cass. It was true that Samantha and her brother had made impressive strides in an incredibly hard business and they could both teach others. Only, it stung and the way Sam’s eyes widened and the quickness with which she slapped her hand over her mouth, led Cass to try to comfort her. “Don’t. Don’t feel bad. You’re right. You and Jackson are equipped with tools I am not. I can teach technique. I can teach recipe basics. I can teach decorating. I can’t teach success because I didn’t have it.”
“You do have success. In a different way right now, but…” Samantha reached for Cass’ hand. “But you could. I won’t say more than that and I really have to get going. We’ll talk soon, yes? About when you can bring me a group of eager young victims?” Sam waggled her eye brows at the last of her query and Cass laughed. The woman was so animated, so full of life and Cass, though part of her wanted to hate Sam purely for her success at something Cass had wanted for herself so much, she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything toward Sam but friendship and joy.
She nodded and waved as Sam fairly skipped out the door, humming to herself.
Chapter Nine
“We’re out of Pina Colada and Tequila Sunrise.”
“Already?”
“Yep. We have a few Rum Runners and Mai Tai’s left.”
Jackson took his hat off and wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. It was one of the most humid nights they’d experienced this summer so far and he knew it was going to get even worse into July and August. The depths of the truck were cool and comfortable, but near the window, it was as though the humidity sucked you toward it and clung. He could probably freeze the cupcakes and by the time he handed one to a customer, the cake and frosting would have thawed. He —
“Boss?” Jerome interrupted.
Jackson turned his head. “Sorry, man.”
“No prob. Just asking what you wanted to do about what all’s left?”
“Y’all might as well take them.”
“Cool. Thanks. What were you uh, thinking about a few minutes ago? You were kinda spaced out. The heat finally getting to you?”
“Close, but not yet. I was just thinking about how to do something a little new for the next couple of months. I’ll have to work it out in my head and see if we could do it.”
“What is it?”
“Ice cream cupcakes or rather, cupcakes made out of ice cream with a cake bottom and buttercream tops.”
“Oh man, that would be awesome. It’s so fuckin’ hot out here. Bet people would love them.”
“It would be totally cool.”
“There are three other ice cream type food trucks though down here at night and at lunch time,” Peg added over her shoulder as she packed up the airbrush kit.
“You’re right, there are,” Jackson agreed. “But there are also three other cupcake and dessert trucks and we do pretty well against them. I think we could hold our own. If it didn’t work, it didn’t work. We get the milk and cream, as much as we need, so we’d just have to repurpose one of the freezer spaces to hold the ice cream. Like I said, though, I need to try and work it out in my head to see if and how we could do it.”
“I’d love it. Ice cream is my favorite.”
“We’ll see. Why don’t y’all go on and get outta here. I can drive the truck back to the lot and bed her down for the night.”
He wanted to be alone and driving from one end of downtown to the other would give him a few minutes of solitude.
He’d been mean and bear-like these days. He didn’t know how many it had been, but it didn’t matter. One day was one day too long without Cass. It had been hard walking away from her the first time. He’d wanted to take her to bed and stay there for a month exploring her curves, her mind, and kissing her lips until neither of them could breathe. He’d wanted to take her with him, start his business with her. He’d wanted to share everything with her. He’d never felt that with any other woman he’d ever met.
That she was older? It hadn’t ever mattered to him before, but he liked it. That she was curvy and soft and rounded in all the right places? That got him off like nobody’s business. That she’d been his teacher? Well, that was hot all on its own.
And she’d been hands on too. Every time she laid her hands on top of his, helping guide his movements with pastry dough, or stood so close behind him that he could smell her under the sweet coconut and vanilla scented perfume she wore, had always hardened his dick until he had to fight with himself, talk his body down from grabbing for her and having her on the marble table top.
She did it for him. That mysterious ‘it’ people always talked about. He hadn’t been sure he believed in it. Then, he met Cass.
He was the one fighting her the first time around and it had left them both alone when they belonged together. It was clear as day to him and he was pretty sure it was to her too. She had said she loved him. Well, that she thought she loved with him, but thinking had nothing to do with it. Feeling was all that mattered. And he was feeling damn lonely and damn horny without her.
He was pretty sure he loved her, too. He shoulda told her. She was just so…bullheaded. She talked about him being stubborn, but he had nothing on her. She was all kinds of stubborn. She wouldn’t listen to him. He’d let her have her say but when he wanted to talk, to tell her why he felt she ought to take another chance on her dreams, she’d shut him down and proceeded to give her the silent treatment.
“Pot, meet kettle,” he muttered.
Should he reach out? He didn’t know. Would she come around a third time? Would she meet him halfway if he held out the proverbial olive branch? Or in their cases, the olive branch fashioned out of fondant?
He was unsure about all this. Was he too hard on her? Did he demand too much? Did she think she’d have to face it all on her own again? Did he need to make the first move?
Women. He’d spend most of his school years working the ranch before class and after, until supper. He got one night a weekend off to go out with his friends. He’d had girlfriends but not for long. Even though most grew up out in the country like he did, they didn’t seem to understand that yes, he wanted to see them more, but no he couldn’t just shirk his responsibilities to his family and their way of life.
Girls liked him and he liked them. There’d been a few he’d get dirty with, but they weren’t serious relationships. He’d never had a high school sweetheart. He hadn’t had the time to put into one. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of time now that he was grown up either, but he damn sure wanted a sweetheart. And he damn sure wanted her name to be Cass.
He took a left into the food truck lot. Each day there seemed to be more trucks and it was still hard for him to imagine that there were enough people in the city to fund all the trucks. It was fast food but it was better food than chain burger joints. It was quality food, some of the best he’d ever had and they were all making money or at the very least, they were all breaking even. Depending on the month, his income could go either way but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else, even working the ranch. It was his heritage, the Double J, and he loved it. He loved the land and he even loved putting in a hard days work from dawn to dusk, driving cattle or fixing fences or hell, even milking cows. He just didn’t want it all on his own and he didn’t want to work it day in and day out. He wanted what he had. He wanted his business and in some ways he figured he could understand his father’s point of view. A cowboy, born and bred to work land, was instead baking cupcakes and hocking them out of a truck to the business people in the city.
If he and his father were in opposite positions, he’d probably want to kick some ass too. Jackson shook his head. They were both so stubborn.
He found his spot in the gravel lot and carefully backed into it. Shutting the engine off, he climbed out and hooked the rig to the power supply. He was closed tomorrow but he’d take some time to stock up in the afternoon so he was ready for Monday.
Ther
e was enough to keep him busy, but he honestly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was bone tired from not sleeping well since his argument with Cass. He’d love to talk to her, kiss her, or just see her. Was she missing him? ‘Cause he felt like he’d been missing her for years. It hadn’t been anywhere near that long but he’d had her in his bed once, back in his life for just a few precious hours. He wanted her every second of the day.
His boots crunched as he walked toward his pick-up. The sun would be up in a few hours and while the idea passed through his head to go over to Cass’ place and sit out front until it was a decent enough time to wake her up, he’d try another tactic.
The downtown city lights bounced off the hood of his beat up ride. He loved this damn truck. Handed down to him from his dad, he’d never wanted any other. One day he’d have to get something new to replace it, but he was committed to driving the wheels off it first.
His parking spot in front of the townhouse was vacant for once. Usually on Saturday nights, it would be taken by someone who’d decided to crash overnight at a buddy’s place. Kinda ticked him off that he’d not be staying for long.
Letting himself in, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to wake Sam. Sunday’s were one of her busiest days and she needed all the sleep she could get, which would be another two hours. Two and a half if she’d prepped a couple trays of sticky buns in advance. But the scent of coffee hit him and he found Sam standing in the kitchen leaning against the stove, her eyes closed. She had a coffee cup under her nose and she was taking long, deep breaths. “What are you doing up?”
“Have to be at the shop extra early this morning,” she answered with her eyes still shuddered behind her lids.
“You always have to be there early. What’s so special about today? Mr. Hot Shot coming in to see you?” That got him one eye glaring at him.
“No. Have something else going on.”
“Like what?”
“None of your business, nosy.”
Jackson lifted a brow. “Since when do you keep secrets from me, grouchy?”
“Since it’s none of your business.” She stuck her tongue out at him before taking a healthy swallow of the coffee. “How was your night?”
“Near sell-out.”
“Told you the fruity cocktail cupcakes would be a big hit around summer.”
“You did and they are.” During the winter, he’d found that flavors people associated with staying warm like spiked chocolate, hard cider, and espresso sold well. He’d slowly started lightening the flavors as spring set in and when summer kicked in, the rainbow colored cupcakes that mimicked tropical drinks were definitely his top sellers. The little paper umbrellas were a great addition to the summer feeling. “How about you? Still thinking to add in the lemon sticky buns?”
“Yep. Expecting a batch of lemons this week. Bought a crate from the Thompson’s last time I was out to visit Daddy.”
Jackson laughed. “He know that?”
“You kidding? He’d beat my ass if he knew I was talking to old man Thompson.” Sam shook her head. “I don’t know what happened between them, but Daddy has never forgiven that man.”
“Ever notice he stops talking to a lot of people and we don’t ever know why?”
“Well, we know why he stopped talking to you.”
“Yeah, we do. You need any help this morning?” He needed to change the subject. Getting into it with Sam again about their father again wasn’t topping his list of want-to’s at the moment. “I’m not quite tired enough to go to bed and I’m happy to pitch in.”
“Nope. I’ve got it all covered.”
“This isn’t like you to be so tight-lipped about whatever is going on with you.”
Sam sighed and set her cup in the sink. She patted him on the shoulder as she passed by. “It’s nothing. Just going to be an extra busy morning for me and I need to get started early today. If it was more than that, I’d tell you. Promise.”
Jackson stared after his sister, certain that something was up, that something wasn’t quite kosher, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “This have anything to do with the killing two birds thing you mentioned? You know, something to do with Cass?”
“So suspicious, big brother. I’ve got this. Go on.”
“Uh huh.” He’d find out later. He always did. For now, since she didn’t want his help, he’d go on about his original plan for this early Sunday morning.
* * * * *
“What are you doing out here, boy?”
Jackson glanced over his shoulder at the gruff welcome from his father. “Came to see you.” He turned his attention back to the horses in the corral. Jock Dawson propped a boot just like his son. If one didn’t know they were related, their identical stances and builds would be able to clarify any questions. Save for the two decades age difference, they could have been brothers.
“Well, here I am.”
“Yeah.”
“That all you gonna say? I’ve got things to do.”
Jackson slanted a look sideways. “No, that’s not all I’m gonna say, but I wasn’t planning on talking out here. Thought maybe we could go inside.”
“Out here is just as good as any place. Daylight’s wastin’.”
“Dammit, Dad. You can’t take just a few minutes and talk to me? This is important.” Jackson shoved away from the corral and stalked toward the house. The container he’d brought with him was sitting in the refrigerator in the kitchen he’d grown up eating in. It was still his home, it always would be. He slammed into the house, banging the door against the wall. He’d wanted to please Cass, show her that he’d tried, that he’d taken what she’d said to heart, but this was a bad idea. If Cass thought Jackson was stubborn… Well, was it any wonder? He’d learned from the best.
“What’s gotten into you, boy?”
“I shouldn’t have come out here.” He strode headlong into the kitchen and grabbed the plastic container of cupcakes.
“I don’t even know why you did.”
“I wanted to patch things up. I wanted to clear the air between us. I wanted to show you what I do, bring it to you so you could see, but you don’t care. You don’t want to know.”
“Jackson, you didn’t want to listen either, son.”
“What? You keep thinkin’ I’m gay because I bake cupcakes. You weren’t very nice to Cass when I brought her out here. I just…” Jackson threw up his hands in frustration. “Nevermind.”
“You just what? Say it. I’m a big man. I can take whatever you dish out.”
Jackson shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”
“You thought it was when you drove out here at dawn, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t deny it.
“They say what you came to say. No use wastin’ the trip.”
“Like we’re wastin’ daylight?”
“Been sayin’ that all my life. Not goin’ to change now.”
“I want you to be proud of me. Whether or not I manage the ranch or bake these,” Jackson held up the clear box, “I want you to be proud of me. You’re proud of Sam. I wanted no less, no more.”
Jock sighed and sat in a chair that scraped against the wood floor when he pulled it from under the table. “You’re a grown man Jackson. What does it matter what I think?”
“Because you’re my father? Why are you so angry with me for what I’ve decided to do with my life?”
“Because I don’t understand it. You’re my son. The men in our family don’t bake, don’t mess in the kitchen. This ranch is your history and it was supposed to be your future. You threw it back at me.” Jock smacked the table with the palm of his hand. “How was I supposed to feel? This is my life, the way we live, the way you were raised. This is what you born to, Jackson. To inherit and run the Double J, but that’s not what you want. Well did you ever think it wasn’t what I wanted either?”
Jackson stared at his father, stunned to hear the words coming from the older man. He didn’t want the ra
nch? Heat flooded Jackson’s cheeks and he started to look away, but didn’t. He’d started this, he needed to see it through. But he was damn sure going to take it out on Cass’ ass next time he had her naked and alone. He might excel at confrontations but he didn’t like them.
“The only person who knew was your mother. I didn’t want the ranch. I didn’t want to stay in Texas. I stayed because of her. Her life, her friends and family were here and she didn’t want to leave. I never dared tell my father I wanted to leave.”
“Where did you want to go?” Jackson was captivated. Jock didn’t share his private thoughts with anyone. He’d always been a hard man and the only time Jackson had seen him laugh, seen him ease up on the tight rein he always held on his emotions, was around Jackson and Samantha’s mother.
The cupcakes were all but forgotten in his hands until the container started to fall from his fingers. He gripped it tight and set it on the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from his father.
“I wanted to work the railroad. I wanted to travel the country on trains. I wanted to be a conductor. My father would have…” Jock shook his head. “I knew what was expected of me and when I met your mother and fell in love with her…? If I left, I would have to leave her too. She didn’t want to travel or see the world. She was happy and content here and it was all she ever wanted. In the end, she was all I ever wanted. I’m a cowboy, Jackson. Like it or not, this ranch and this land is in my blood and it is part of me. It’s in your blood too and that you dared to turn your back on it…”
For long moments, Jock didn’t say anything and neither did Jackson, but the silence was killing the younger Dawson man. “I didn’t turn my back on it. Not completely,” Jackson said quietly.
“But you don’t want it. You want to make little cakes.” Jock sneered as he said the word. “I never thought my son would want that.”
Jackson popped the lid on the plastic box on the table between them. “You’ve never even tried to understand. You never even tried one.”
