Page 11 of Cupcake of the Month
“Yes,” Rob said when the other two women remained silent. “We’ll take care of everything here.”
Wendy typed something on her tablet before attempting to smile at her aunt. “Paris is lovely this time of year.”
Aunt Eulalee held out her arms. “Thank you, honey.”
Jordan snuck a glance at Rob when Wendy walked into her aunt’s embrace. Only a few short months ago, Wendy would have balked from admitting she wanted or needed physical comfort, but Rob had helped her accept that enjoying the touch of another didn’t make her weak. He was grinning, love and adoration sparking from his hazel eyes.
“I’ll put something on the alumni social media pages again for the new chef.” Brandi swiped at her eye. “It found us Anthon. Maybe lightning can strike twice.”
Eulalee dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron. “If that doesn’t work out, you might try the guy who does the Friday cooking demonstrations at Essie’s. I know it’s hard to mess up clear instructions, but his dishes always seem to have a littlesomething extra.”
“Oh, we know him, actually,” Wendy said. “Jordan, you do, too. Josh Lukasik. Remember him from college? You guys dated or something, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jordan forced a smile. Definitely or something. “Josh. I haven’t seen him at Essie’s before.”
“He’s usually tucked away in the back of the meat department.” Brandi fluffed her hair. “Maybe I’ll go see him. Today is Friday after all.”
The jealousy that twisted Jordan’s stomach was ridiculous. Josh didn’t owe her anything, and Brandi flirted with everyone.
“We have about four hundred jars of canned peaches in the basement storeroom,” her friend continued. “We need the last of the crop from the orchard to make sure we had enough to last at the Inn until next season, so there’s no more left for the Fountenoy Hall label for Belle’s. Other than that, whiskey production is going well. We’re about ready to bottle the five-year brew.”
“Can’t wait to taste it.” Wendy tapped around on her tablet. “Brandi, when you go to Essie’s to talk to Josh, can you get some salmon and chicken?”
Brandi checked her schedule. “Roofers are coming in the early afternoon, actually. Forgot about them.”
“I’ll do it.” Jordan spoke before she could stop herself. Did she really want to see Josh again that badly? “Pick up the food, I mean.”
“Perfect. We also have stuff for the homeless shelter.”
“I’ll drop it off first,” Jordan said.
“Okay. Let me post tonight’s menu to the web site.” Wendy tapped around her computer.
Almost immediately, the house phone rang for reservations for the small dinner service. Since there were so few spaces available, the seats filled up fast.
“Your brothers are working on a program for our room availability calendar,” Wendy told Jordan between phone calls. “And we have someone in mind for the social events coordinator position you and your strategic talent management expertise browbeat us into creating.”
“You know I’m right,” Jordan said. “You hate dealing with people who can’t make up their minds and Brandi wants to focus on running the brewery. So who’s going to do it?
Wendy pulled her lower lip between her top teeth and cast a glance at her cousin.
“You?” Brandi asked.
***
Josh turned off his phone when he heard his little brother shuffling out of his room. Zach would notice the display glowing from behind the room divider and was nosy enough to ask Josh who he was texting.
Seeing Jordan last night had sparked hot, wet fantasies. And not the normal, licking, touching, exhausted slumber afterward kind. No, more like a quiet, romantic candlelit dinner or holding hands during a walk along the edge of Scarlett Springs kind.
She had never been far from his mind. He was so far beyond pathetic.
Since he was awake, he rolled off the futon and grabbed a t-shirt, then left his semi-private space.
Zach poured his cold oats cereal, a textbook tucked under one arm. “What are you doing up?”
“Good morning to you, too.” Josh’s eyes roamed the small kitchen. The heavy punching bag hanging from the ceiling nearly blocked his view of the stack of envelopes piled neatly in front of the temperamental toaster. He hadn’t noticed it last night. A surge of panic sprang up from his gut. “This the mail?”
Zach added the milk and glanced up, his blue eyes an exact replica of Josh’s own, but his blond hair was a contrast to Josh’sbrown and a gift from his father. “Yeah, from yesterday. Nothing from Mom or Dad.” He went to the fridge, smacking the heavy bag as he walked by.
