The_Cupcake_Cowboy

by Lissa

  “Those are women’s tea cakes. Things your mother would have liked. Nothing for a man to be fiddling with.”

  “The world has changed.”

  “But why this?” His father waved a hand over the box as though trying to making it disappear.

  “Because I can. Because I’m good at it. Because it’s mine and I like it. It keeps me close to Sam and in a strange way it keeps me close to Nana and Mama.”

  Jock smiled for the first time since they began talking. “I didn’t mean it, you know? What I said when you brought that little gal out here. Your mother would have been proud of you. She’d be knocking our heads together too.”

  “I know.” Jackson took a cupcake and held it toward his father. “Try one. Please. You might find you like it.”

  “I don’t —”

  “Just one bite. I made these especially for you. I know you think… Hell, I don’t know what you really think of me, but I’m not gay, I’m not a woman trapped in a man’s body, I’m the same Jackson I was when I worked the ranch. I just wanted something more.”

  Jock started to speak again but stopped himself and reached for the cupcake Jackson held out for him. Jock took a bite, a small one at first, followed by a larger one. Pretty soon the whole confection was gone. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and Jackson smiled when his father coughed to clear his throat.

  “What the hell was in that thing?”

  “I call it Tennessee Cherry. It’s one of my After Dark cocktail creations. During the day, I sell regular cupcakes, no booze, but after five in the afternoon, I make ones with alcohol. This is a cherry cola cake with a whiskey cream cheese frosting. I know you like Tennessee whiskey and I know Mama used to like cherry colas. I just put them together.”

  “She would’ve been happy to know you defied me and did what you wanted to do. She was just as headstrong as the rest of us.”

  “Did she ever regret that you didn’t go after what you wanted? That you stayed because of her?”

  “Shoot no. That woman didn’t have one regret in life and to be honest with you, son, neither do I. This ranch was what I was supposed to do. I had her to love and her love in return. That’s more than I could have asked for. I just don’t know what’s going to happen to this place when I’m gone if you and your sister don’t want it.”

  Jackson understood. He’d wondered that same thing for years. If it hadn’t been cupcakes for him, it would’ve been something else. The ranch was too isolated for him even though it was all he’d known growing up. “I don’t know either, but maybe if you let me, I can help you figure it out. I don’t want to fight with you and I may be a grown man, but I still need and want your approval. You and Sam, Dad… Y’all are the only family I’ve got left.” And those were the hardest words he’d ever had to say.

  Jock nodded and looked down. He fiddled with the paper cupcake liner before Jackson handed him another cupcake. “This the same kind?”

  “Yeah. They all are.” There were four more left.

  “I didn’t know you could make ’em with whiskey.”

  Jackson smiled. “I make a lot of cupcakes with all sorts of alcohol. The nightclub crowds really go for them.” He watched his father closely as Jock ate the second handheld cake. The older man was prepared for the sting of the whiskey this time. “It wasn’t personal, nothing against you, my wanting something else.”

  “I know, son. But I lost your mother, then your grandmother, your sister, and then you.”

  “You didn’t lose us. At least not Sam. You gave her your support and she’s a really big success. You did lose me, or almost did. Cass, well… Cass thought if I could get you to sit and listen to me, talk to me, that maybe we could start to fix things.”

  “You must really like that gal if you’re listening to her this time.”

  “I do.” Like didn’t cover what he felt for Cass. Not by a long shot. “She’s a good woman and she knew how much this distance between us bothered me. I don’t expect it to be fixed overnight, but I hope we can start.”

  “Maybe we can. Next time you come out, you can bring some more of these little cake things. Enough for the hands.”

  The grin that stretched Jackson’s mouth was so wide it hurt his cheeks. Relief filled him and the only other thing he could wish for was Cass, right there within reach so he could hug her, thank her for making him do this. As it was, he would have to make do with shaking his father’s hand across the table. “Deal. I’ll bring more.”

  “Some of the men prefer beer. Don’t ‘spose you got any with beer, do ya?”

  “I can work something up. Dad? You do know I’m not gay, right?”

  Chapter Ten

  Cass glanced at her phone when it chimed with a new text message. Jackson. It was the third text since six that morning. She honestly didn’t know why she wasn’t answering him. She wanted to. She wanted to talk to him, to see him, to get naked with him. Dear God, she wanted to get naked with him. She missed him.

  And those fingers of his.

  And those lips.

  And that voice that slid right through her when he whispered in her ear. The slow drawl, his classic Texan twang that sent shivers down her spine.

  She missed everything about him. It was even worse this time around because she knew what she was missing out on by not being with him. At least before, when he’d quit culinary school, she had only known what his kisses tasted like. That knowledge was hard enough to put out of her mind on a daily basis, but after having been with him, having sex with him and sleeping with him… It was pure torture. To make matters worse, she was doing it to herself and she knew it.

  Talk about pigheaded.

  His text said he needed to talk to her, but it seemed she wasn’t done running from him or the deal they’d made just yet. Well, the deal he’d made and she’d gotten pissed about. He’d had no right telling her she should try again with a bakery, no right in telling her that he wanted her to take another chance. She didn’t have the right to tell him he needed to talk to his father either, so in that, they were even. Still… She’d lost everything when her bakery went under. She’d lost her pride, her confidence, her ability to dream. It had devastated her in ways she hadn’t been expected, not only professionally, but personally. She’d pulled in on herself, become a hermit. She’d stopped dating and until Jackson had wandered into her class, she couldn’t have told anyone the last time she’d been interested in anyone.

  It had humiliated and embarrassed her. It was only with her tail tucked between her legs that she’d contacted her former pastry instructor looking for a teaching job. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look for jobs in other bakeries. And now Jackson wanted her to take a chance again, to put herself out there, to set herself up for failure.

  Why couldn’t he understand that going to him, facing him, confronting him was as much as she could do? He hadn’t rejected her as she’d feared, not really. He’d needed a nudge and an explanation of her feelings, but once he had it, once he realized her intent had never been to undermine, but instead caution, he’d been all over her.

  What he was asking of her was different, harder. The one thing in the world she’d always wanted, until him, had flopped. It broke her heart and she’d never fully recovered.

  “You’re as bad as my brother.” Samantha’s voice called Cass back to the present.

  “Huh?” She looked down. “Oh.” Cass smiled, chagrined. “Sorry about that.”

  The ball of dough she’d been kneading wouldn’t be worth anything if she kept it up. One more fold, press, and a final fold over and she grabbed a rolling pin from the center of the large marble worktable.

  Samantha had a decked out pastry kitchen with all the essentials. It was a small space that wouldn’t afford a lot of gadgets or the latest machines, but it had everything she needed for her craft. Excellent copper pots for making caramel. Three professional grade stand mixers for making small batches of dough. Two magnetic strips hung on one wall and held her knives
. The most extravagant piece of equipment was the work surface. Half marble, half butcher block. It swallowed the room whole with its monstrous size. It was well made and it’s base was hollowed out for storage cubbies full of rolling pins, pans, and bowls. It was gorgeous and Cass couldn’t quell the pangs of envy, jealousy, and wistfulness.

  She dipped her hand in the bowl of flour several inches in front of her and coated the already well seasoned rolling pin in her hand. The dough was a little tough to roll out because she’d kneaded it too much. It wasn’t as elastic as it should have been.

  “Hey guys, see this?” Cass took the circle she’d rolled out and held it up. It didn’t have a lot of give. “This isn’t what we’re looking for,” she told her students. “We’re looking for elastic, not rubber.” The few days she and Sam had been doing this little hands-on field trip, Cass has only been able to bring four students at a time. But it had been a big success and the administration had been all for it. There was already a waiting list for future classes.

  Sometimes, though bullheadedness and charging headfirst worked, having this kind of training outside the classroom would be an invaluable part of their education.

  Jackson hadn’t been approached about it yet and Cass didn’t know if he would be. She’d been avoiding him and it wouldn’t look right if she showed up asking for a favor.

  “So, you mean you’re not perfect, Chef?”

  “Man, that’s a relief.”

  Cass stared at her students. This group was fresh out of community college and younger than the group she’d brought over two days ago. She flicked flour in their general direction. “Of course I’m not perfect, but you won’t be either if you do this to the dough.”

  “Perfection is overrated,” said another of her students.

  “Depends on what you’re trying to perfect.”

  Cass froze at the voice behind her. Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the circle of dough. Sam reached out and ripped it away from her with smirk. “Here. I’ll take that before you murder it.” To the people gathered around the table, Sam said, “This is my brother, Jackson. He owns The Cupcake Cowboy mobile bakery. By the name, you should be able to guess what his specialty is.”

  “Oh man, I love your cupcakes. That red velvet is to die for.”

  “Nah. The coconut cream is the best.”

  “I like the chocolate stout with beer buttercream.”

  Cass hadn’t turned to look at Jackson, but she felt him. He was so close to her back that the heat of his body flowed into her. Not that she needed to be any warmer. The heat in The Sticky Cowgirl kitchen was oppressive enough with the extra bodies filling the space, but the heat from Jackson was of a different variety. It caused her heart to start racing, her palms to sweat, liquid to pool between her legs.

  “Thanks. What’ve y’all got goin’ on here?”

  When Cass started to move, which way she didn’t know, Jackson settled a large, firm hand on her shoulder. Was she going to turn around? Was she going to run out the back door? Was she just going to crawl into the oven and be done with it?

  “A teaching lesson,” Sam offered. Cass was so thankful that the other woman was there. She could carry the conversation with Jackson while Cass stood mute, unsure what to say to the man at her back. “I approached Cass last week about it and every couple of days, she brings in a fresh batch of young, bright eyed people for me to corrupt to the darkside.”

  Jackson’s fingers flexed on Cass. “Sticky buns are the darkside?”

  Samantha stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Going into business for yourself is the darkside. It’s not easy, and they’re learning valuable lessons about running a kitchen of their own.”

  “That’s a great idea. But… I have to say I’m a little hurt that no one mentioned it to me.”

  “Maybe you and Cass should step outside and discuss how you’d fit more than one extra person in the back of your cupcake truck.”

  Cass shook her head, but Jackson ignored her by saying, “Yes, maybe we should. Ms. Jamieson, a word please.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He just used the hand on her shoulder to turn her wooden body toward the door leading to the outside of the shop.

  She would have to face him now. She would have to look him in the eye and tell him she couldn’t do what he wanted her to do. But that would evidently have to wait because he had maneuvered her until her back was against the wall and his mouth was on hers.

  Their tongues tangled and his hands anchored her in place. She grabbed for his t-shirt and pulled him even closer. He situated one of his thighs between her legs and repeatedly nudged with pointed precision.

  She should’ve pushed him away. She should’ve ended their kiss and gotten the conversation out of the way so she could get back inside to her class. She should’ve done a lot of things, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed put, trapped between his hard body and the hard wall, rocking on his thigh.

  The proverbial rock and hard place. Only it wasn’t proverbial anymore. It was literal. Real. Happening to her.

  She worked, against her better judgment, to increase the friction of hard denim seam, silky satin, and male thigh strength. She wrenched her mouth from his to inhale air into her lungs, but he took her with another kiss almost immediately.

  His teeth nipped at her. His tongue slipped and slid around her mouth, tasting every inch, then engaged her tongue once more in the play.

  He tasted like sugar and chocolate. Buttercream. It was her favorite and on him, it was divine and she’d never be able to lick it from a spoon, a beater, a cupcake without thinking about him.

  “Remember this position, baby? Remember being on my couch that first time?”

  Oh yes, she remembered everything about that night. The wickedness of the frosting foreplay ramped up the arousal currently assaulting her. His lips skittered from her mouth across her cheek, down to her jaw and over to her ear. He bit the lobe gently and the heat of his breath made her moan.

  Bright sunlight glared at her. The sky was a clear, crystal blue without a cloud to mar its beauty. She could see tree tops with bright green foliage and in the distance she could hear the activity from inside the kitchen, laughter, and the always busy Riverwalk district and downtown business happenings.

  She could see it, hear it, but she couldn’t respond to anything other than Jackson. She bucked and rode his thigh, seeking an orgasm that was just over the ridge. “Please,” she managed to croak out.

  “Feel good, baby?”

  That drawl she’d been ruminating on earlier teased her with its nearness. It jacked up her need to come. “Better than, Jackson…” His name was a breathy groan at the first flutterings honing in on her clit. Just a little more pressure from his thigh and she’d be all good.

  “You want to come, don’t you?”

  “More than you know.”

  “Mmmm. Good.”

  Cass squealed in protest as the bastard let up just when she needed him to do the opposite. “Don’t go. Please, Jackson… Don’t.” She’d been craving him for days and even when she’d tried to talk herself into believing that she hadn’t, believing that if they never had the chance to be together again, she’d be okay. Days would turn into weeks which would turn into months and pretty soon, she’d start getting over him. Never mind that before she’d actually gone to bed with him, her desires for him hadn’t waned at all. Maybe if she disappointed him and had no one to blame but herself, it might be easier.

  At the moment though, there was a more pressing matter. Or rather, there should be.

  “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered hotly. “I’m just not letting you come yet. I’m going to keep you on the edge, begging.”

  “Cruel.” It was the only word she could manage because truth be told, the idea of being kept aroused for his pleasure amped her need up several notches. Only, she had to go back inside the kitchen. She had to go back to the school and teach. “Jackson, you can’t do this to me.” The please was evident to
her ears and she was sure it was just as evident to his.

  “I can. You want me to. I saw your eyes change, widened, dilate. I saw your pulse throb harder.” He slowly slid one of his hand down to cup a breast. The nipple pebbled and she cursed her wayward body, the way it seemed to reach out for him whenever he was near. “Now, tell me why you’ve been ignoring my calls.”

  “I…” She couldn’t think straight with him rubbing his palm in small circles, making the nipple tighten and harden even more. She swallowed and closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, she could ignore what was happening enough to try explaining things to him.

  “Nope.” He squeezed her breast in his hand, tight enough that she sucked in a breath.

  “Open those pretty eyes to me. Don’t you dare hide. You’ve been doing that for almost two weeks now.”

  God, who knew he’d have this kind of sexual power over her. She’d known it would be good between them, but he was just dominant enough that he could command her to do almost anything. He’d let her take a little control with him that first night., That’s when she knew she had the same effect on him as he had on her, that she could wield a little feminine power over him…

  She looked at him with what she hoped would pass for sultry. She licked her lips, but he wasn’t swayed and the pressure on her breast didn’t let up. Neither had the twitching of her clit. If anything, she was more aroused. He was going to get exactly what he wanted. Dammit.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Do what?” His palm was back to making easy circles around her nipple. The shirt and bra might as well not have been on for all the protection they provided against him. His heat seeped through the double layer of cotton and felt as though he was touching her naked skin.

  “Take a chance.”

  Jackson nodded and looked for all the world like he was thinking about that. Maybe he was. “On me?”