Scrumptious: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Camos and Cupcakes Book 3)

by Melissa Schroeder

“Are you telling me who I can play with now? Like I’m in grade school?” Another smack—this time on the back of my head. “Ow, Grannie Pam!”

  “She’s one of those women who expects more out of a man.”

  “We’re friends.” But my statement rings false even to my own ears.

  She whips out her own phone and immediately starts playing the posted video. “That is not just friends. A man doesn’t look at a woman like that without wanting everything from her. Just don’t mess it up. I need some more beautiful great grand babies before I leave this earth. I expect them from you.”

  “Whoa, slow it down, Grannie Pam.”

  Another slap. “Younger generation, so slow. Get on it, boy.” Slap.

  “I’ll leave McLovin on the side of the road if you don’t quit hitting me.”

  She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me. She’s right. As much as I hate that cat, I love her even more. I would never get rid of her cat.

  “Go. And make sure to bring her back again. That girl has the best laugh in the world.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Bye. Behave.”

  “Never,” she says as I head out the door. I can’t fight the smile that curves my lips. There are good days and bad days. This is one of those great days.

  When I get downstairs, I find Savannah waiting for me.

  “I know you want to leave him, but we need to wait for him.”

  She’s talking to McLovin. The asshole is pitching a fit in the carrier, but that’s nothing new. He always does this when we leave, and I get it. Grannie Pam is his human. He still doesn’t understand why he can’t stay with her. Also, he hates me.

  “Seriously, dude, trying to get her to leave me here is a dick move,” I say to the carrier in the back. This time he doesn’t hiss. He just quiets down.

  Savannah starts up the car. “Is everything okay?”

  I nod. “Grannie Pam wanted to talk to me about you.”

  She laughs. “God, you are lucky. She’s a pill.”

  I glance over at her. “Yeah. I wanted to warn you.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently someone posted a video of us dancing.”

  She rolls to a stop at a light and looks over at me. “From the wedding?”

  “Have we danced any other time?”

  She snorts. “Nope.”

  “So, what are you doing the rest of the day?”

  “Nothing. I slept until ten, which was a-maz-ing.”

  “Early dinner at the house?”

  “Sounds good. Want me to drop you off at the shop so you can get your motorcycle?”

  I watch her as she stops at a light, openly without trying to hide the fact that I’m fascinated. “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re hot.”

  Her face flushes, and I fall a little bit more in love with her. Yeah, I’m using the word. Even though I have been fascinated with women my entire life, I know that she will hold my attention for decades. Every time I think I have her pegged, I peel another layer away and find something else.

  I don’t think there will ever be a moment in our lives where she won’t completely captivate me. Since I don’t want to scare her off, I keep those thoughts to myself for now.

  “So, get your motorcycle?”

  I nod and settle back to enjoy the ride and view.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fritz

  A few hours later, we’re finishing off a lemon chicken orzo soup and, of course, it was delicious. I have yet to eat anything Savannah has made, either here or at the restaurant, that isn’t top shelf. Light, filled with flavor, and just the thing to fill the house with wonderful scents.

  “You like it?” she asks me as I’m practically licking the bottom of the bowl.

  I look at her. She’s sitting next to me at the island. For once, I didn’t have to push her to eat. In fact, when she was working in the kitchen, she had been humming. Actually humming. She’s more relaxed than I have ever seen her.

  “You look happy.”

  It’s then that I realize how true that statement is. Unless she was happy for her friends, I don’t think I have seen her smile so much. Okay, I’ve seen that twist of the lips where I can tell she is amused with people but there was no humor in it. This look is lighter.

  “I am happy. You know, I woke up today and the first thing I started thinking about was the restaurant.”

  “About not being there?”

  She shakes her head. “No. For the last few years, my first thoughts every day were about the business. There was always a knot here.” She rubs her hand over her stomach. “But today, when I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t my problem anymore. I had nothing on my schedule. At all. It was freeing.”

  I nod, understanding what she’s saying. I loved the Army, but by the time I took the early out money, I was ready to be done with it. I’d spent a massive amount of time risking my life for Uncle Sam, and I was happy to hang up my uniform.

  “Have you thought what you’re going to do now?”

  She shrugs. “No idea. Seriously. Not that I have to worry about that.”

  I get up and take her bowl over to the sink. “What do you mean?”

  “Tito left me some money. My brothers were kind of pissy about it too. Not that they begrudged me anything—”

  “Stop it,” I say turning to face her. “They did begrudge you because they bitched about not getting his money. Am I right?”

  She sighs as she leans forward, resting her weight on her elbows on the counter.

  “Not overtly. The Martinez family takes passive aggressive to a whole other level.”

  “I find that weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re Mexican, lots of passion there. I mean, the telenovelas always seem to be over the top. Also, a restaurant business family, so I’ve always thought people who were involved with food were…well, like I said, passionate.”

  She shrugs. “I think the family was at one time, but once we made it to the next income level, things probably changed.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Tito and my father,” she stops, and I wait. “My biological father and my father were in their late teens, I think. Second generation.”

  I nod. “So, you’re not going to open another restaurant?”

  “I can’t.”

  “What’s that mean? You can’t?”

  “As per my contract, I cannot open a restaurant on my own for five years after leaving the employment of the Martinez family.”

  “Your family made you sign a contract.”

  She snorted. “No. I made them sign it. They’re in more trouble than they know—if I want to press it.”

  “Ugh, just tell me. I hate when people talk in circles.”

  She chuckles, the sound of it slipping down my spine. I was attracted to the woman before the crash. Now that her family shit has hit the fan, she seems so free, so happy. This woman…she’s sexy as fuck.

  “My uncle’s lawyer wrote up the contract for me, even though he objected since he knew Tito didn’t want me to come back and work for the family.”

  “What’s in the contract?”

  “I own the recipes. And I can open a restaurant. Just not in Texas.”

  When I hear that, my heart starts whacking against my chest, and I break out in a cold sweat. “You’re not moving.”

  She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and I can certainly understand her reaction. The panic in my tone is embarrassing.

  “No. I thought at the time I would.”

  “You did?”

  She nods. “This had been my home for my first seventeen years, but I found myself in California. When I first returned, I was so damned homesick for it. I still miss California. But I have friends here.” She looks around at the kitchen. “I’m still pissed at Tito, but I don’t want to give this up. I freaking love this house.”

  Okay, so I would ha
ve loved her to say that she wasn’t leaving because of me, but then I remind myself that she has no idea how I feel. So, I kind of get it, but as any of my four sisters will be happy to explain, I think the world revolves around me.

  I start to rinse out our bowls and load the dishwasher. “Okay, what do you plan to do for money?”

  She doesn’t say anything, and I turn to find her attention on my ass.

  “Savannah,” I admonish.

  Her gaze meets mine and her face flushes again. So sweet.

  “Uh, money?”

  “You have bills, right?”

  She nods, then takes a sip of water.

  “How are you going to pay them? I mean, I can pay a little more in rent if you need it.”

  “Naw, I’m set.”

  I turn off the water and grab a towel to dry off my hands. I use my foot to close the door on the dishwasher. “What’s that mean?”

  “Tito left me everything.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  She cocks her head. “Do you not realize what that means?”

  I shake my head.

  The sigh that escapes between her lips is filled with…what is that? Regret? Why?

  “Tito left me his shares in the company, so I own about twenty-five percent of Martinez Holdings, Limited.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t know that.”

  “I try not to publicize it. And then he left me all of his money, which was substantial. So, truthfully, I don’t have to work. In fact, if I was careful and continued to invest wisely, I could probably not have to work the rest of my life.”

  “How much are we talking about here?” I ask, uneasiness creeping into my tone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  She throws her hands up in the air. “See, this is why I don’t tell people. I mean, EJ and Allison know, but other people always act weird after they find out.”

  “How did EJ and Allison act?”

  “EJ said that I still sucked at making margaritas—which we both know is true—and Allison, well she just shrugged.”

  And that sounds just like them. They could care less about money. They love Savannah for who she is. If she had to take a position at Whataburger as a cook and make it on minimum wage, that didn’t matter to them.

  “How much money are we talking about here?” She frowns. It’s sexy, but it’s still a frown. “Savannah.”

  She blows out a breath. “My net worth is over a million.”

  I blink. “Dollars?”

  She nods.

  Well, fuck me. Here I was thinking about happily ever after and she’s sitting there a millionaire.

  “See, this is just what I was talking about. People, especially men, find out about my money, and they freak the fuck out. Just like you are right now.”

  “I’m not freaking out.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m adjusting.”

  “Adjusting to what? That you aren’t as rich as I am so I’m emasculating you with my wealth? It’s not the first time I’ve heard that from a man.”

  “I didn’t say that. And don’t you lump me in with all those losers who came before me.”

  “Oh, so they’re losers? The only men who would be interested in me would be losers?”

  “Well, they have to be losers since you are here by yourself. Seriously, what the actual fuck is wrong with the few men that you dated?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “They let you walk away. They have to be losers.”

  She snorts. “I chose.”

  And because I’m an asshole occasionally, I say the one thing I know I shouldn’t. She’s knocked me off center. “You might have, but why didn’t you ever let any of them talk to you into bed?”

  The moment I let the words lose into the atmosphere, I know I made a mistake. All the color drains out of her face, and I want more than anything to rewind this conversation to about ninety seconds ago. Before I said stupid shit.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Fuck. I can’t lie to her. I might be every bit the manwhore my friends claim I am, but I never lie to women. I’m not about to start with Savannah, who is becoming so damned important to me.

  I shove a hand through my hair. “Okay, so the night of the bachelorette party…”

  “Thursday night.”

  “You might have said a few things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  I shift my weight from foot to foot, and I know it is one of my tells. Mainly because my mother could always discern when I was lying to her just by the way I did that exact thing.

  “You told me about being able to dance.”

  “Yeah, you already told me that,” she says, settling her hands on her hips. Anger is rolling off of her in waves so strongly I can feel it. Why couldn’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut?

  Because she may be right. I might just feel emasculated. I knew she had more money than I did, but I would have never guessed she was that rich. I needed time to adjust. I should have just let it go.

  “Fritz.”

  I look at her, studying her expression. There is no way I can get out of answering her.

  “You might have also told me you’re a virgin.”

  There, I said it. I let it hang in the air between us.

  Her face pales slightly. “I did not.”

  “You did. Something about EJ’s Gran wanting to help you find a man.”

  She crosses her arms in front of her stomach like she’s trying to protect herself. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When she opens them, my heart breaks a little as a chill settles in my bones. All the happy warm feelings have drained from her body. All that is there is frigid anger.

  “That explains all of this. So stupid,” she mutters. Then, she turns on her heel and marches away. If I was panicked before, it is nothing compared to what I am feeling now. Each step takes her further away from me metaphorically and literally. Fuck. I jog to catch up to her.

  “Savannah.”

  By the time I make it to the bottom of the stairs, she’s already halfway up them.

  “Not now, Fritz. Give me a few minutes.”

  I don’t want to. I want to go up there and demand that she look at me, talk to me, let me explain. But I am that guy with all those sisters, so I know better than to push things when she is this fragile.

  “Fine, but we will talk about it.”

  “Whatever, asshole,” she says right before slamming her bedroom door.

  McLovin walks past me and up the stairs. I watch, waiting because I’m pretty sure he won’t get in her room. Instead, he meows. Savannah’s door opens and she coos at him. Then the door slams again.

  Great.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Savannah

  An hour later, I’m still pissed. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this mad since a certain San Antonio Spurs player sent back his meal and insisted that I couldn’t cook. When I confronted him, I found out he just wanted to meet because he saw a picture of me and thought I was hot. Oh, and then when that guy at one of EJ’s nighttime events said I didn’t look or sound Mexican, that ranked up there. But this fucking tops them all.

  I’ve been pacing my room, trying to figure out if I should punch him, ignore him, or chop him up into pieces and feed him to McLovin. I do not have to tell you what McLovin thinks I should do.

  My phone buzzes. I walk over and grab it off the table.

  EJ: Woman, I need to hear from you.

  EJ: Allison is making me do this.

  Despite the situation, I smile. Allison is such a damned planner. Of course, she left EJ in charge of me. Like I’m her little puppy or something. Maybe I am. I can’t seem to keep my life together.

  Me: I’m fine. Just arguing with Fritz.

  EJ: ???

  Me: !!!

  EJ: Stop that and tell me what is going on

  Me: Apparently, I told Fritz I’m a virgin.

&nbs
p; The little dots start and stop several times. It takes a few more minutes before she texts me back. At the point where I’m worrying I’ve freaked her out or she’s hate-texting Fritz right now, she answers.

  EJ: Sorry, customers showed up right when we closed. So, he knows you’re a virgin? Why is that a big deal? If a woman—or man for that matter—wants to stay a virgin, it’s their business. Did he mock you? Because if he did, I might just have to send Harry over there to rearrange that pretty face.

  Right after that, another text comes through, but this one is from Fritz.

  Pretty Boy: You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.

  Not likely. I go back to EJ.

  Me: No. It sort of slipped out when we were talking about things.

  EJ: *Monocle Emoji* Things?

  Me: He was worried about my money and offered to help pay more each month if I needed it.

  EJ: *GIF spit-take-laughing*

  Me: Be nice. If you didn’t know me well, would you know how much money I have?

  EJ: Definitely not with that POS sedan you drive.

  I sigh. As long as it’s safe and gets me from point A to point B, I don’t care what my car looks like.

  Pretty Boy: I know you want to avoid me, but I’ll wait you out. You have no idea what an asshole I can be about that.

  I roll my eyes. Seriously?

  Pretty Boy: Okay, maybe you do know, but we are still going to talk. I can outwait you. I have four sisters.

  Pretty Boy: FOUR SISTERS!

  I can’t help the smile that curves my lips. Dammit. I like to hold onto my mad. At least for a little while.

  EJ: So, what’s the problem?

  Me: Do you think he’s doing this because I’m a challenge? Like, get the virgin?

  EJ: Is that a game? I had no idea. I need to see if I can stock that in the store. I have a whole segment of my customers who like the virgin stories. They would definitely go for a board game like that.

  I’m usually fascinated by stories about the customers who shop in EJ’s romance-friendly bookstore, but right now I am not in the mood.

  Me: This is why you are going to hell.

  EJ: *devil emoji* Seriously, though, Fritz usually avoids virgins.