Page 20 of Cupcake of the Month
He lowered his apron to cover the length of his legs. The job was gross, but now that Josh learned how to minimize the splatter, it wasn’t the most awful thing he could do.
Emptying the grey industrial-sized trash containers was much worse. They were filled to near bursting with shells and bones and other waste from the meat department that created an aromatic nightmare.
The dumpsters in the alcove of the parking lot were overflowing, as George had predicted, with strips of fat and empty cans decorating the top. A few bags had come untied, the bones and solid grease and used paper towels spreading like a blanket over the rest of the contents. The humidity helped intensify the stench to near-gagging proportions.
Cars zoomed in the lot behind him, the poor souls who couldn’t find a space in front and would have to walk a mile to the entrance. Josh put the bags on the ground and tucked the extra ones he had carried into his apron strings, then picked up a full one and pumped it up and down, testing its weight. It had some heft, but it shouldn’t be too hard to toss it to the top of the pile.
He swung it back and forth a few times, gathering momentum. He might not have a softball arm like Jordan, but being this close? It would be hard to miss Mount Trashmore.
He swung back, ready for the big throw, but the bag became weightless in his hand. He still clutched the top, but the rest of it had ripped away. The detritus of doom hit the pavement behind him in a staccato concert. Perfect.
A gasp sounded over the falling garbage, followed by a feminine cry of “Josh!”
Josh closed his eyes. He knew that voice, which had called out in surprise but not pain. Although he’d fantasized about hearing her call out his name again, this was not what he had envisioned.
He squared his shoulders and turned around.
It was worse than he’d pictured. Jordan stood in a cheery yellow sundress, the banana peel on her head the least stylish beret in the fashion world. Bits of cucumber skins and egg shells lay on her chest along with other nasty things, while chicken bones, lumps of congealed fat, and Styrofoam trays created a path from her feet to Josh.
“Sorry about that.” A laugh welled up in his chest but he held it in. Even with the unwanted accessories, she looked vibrant and alive.
“Oh, you so owe me.” Jordan’s eyes widened behind the frame of her brown glasses, and she held her lips in a straight line. One corner quirked up, giving Josh a measure of relief. “Big time.”
He smothered a chuckle. “Come on. You’d be laughing if our situations were reversed.”
Very slowly and deliberately, she used two fingers to grasp the peel off her head and held it out at arm’s length. “This used to be my favorite dress.”
He rushed to open one of the bags he had tucked into his apron. She plucked the debris off her body piece by piece and tossed them in. He could help, but didn’t think she’d appreciate his hands skimming over her, no matter how good his intentions.
“I’ll pay your dry cleaning bill.” Somehow. It was his fault; he should accept the consequences. He used his feet to gather the bones and containers into one big pile. The heavy weight of her eyes made each move more difficult. This job was a completely different track than what he had planned for his future.
She blew out a quick breath, and he tensed for a sharp reprimand. “Brandi said she spoke to you about working at Fountenoy Hall. I’m sort of living there for a bit.”
The swift change of subject made his head reel until he remembered. Jordan was steady. Practical. Her dress could be fixed, and therefor did not require additional time or attention. The feelings he’d been squashing since seeing her at the fundraiser came swimming back to the surface.
“I’m not taking the job.” He took another bag out of his apron and scooped the trash with the bag around his hands. “What happened to Connecticut?”
Her eyes widened, and he realized he had admitted to checking up on her. Crap.
“I’m helping Wendy and Brandi while taking an extended vacation.” She held out a list. “I’m shopping for them now. Passing by the dumpsters at this exact moment was a fortuitous coincidence.”
The sound of the back door closing echoed in the alcove and Josh stiffened. Please let it be a regular employee taking a smoke break. Please let it be someone shoplifting a steak and taking the easy way out. Please let it be anyone other than…
“What in Sam Hill are you doing?” George exclaimed. “Oh, this goes beyond, Lukasik. Way beyond.”
“Hi, George.” Jordan gave a high-wattage smile and stepped between Josh and his manager. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Part of Josh was thankful for the interference, but this was his responsibility. He moved in front of her again.
George’s beady eyes took in the scene around him – the stream of garbage and broken bag, the blobs of fat. “This is your idea of taking out of the trash?”
Like Josh had done it on purpose. He scooped the trash by his feet into the bag.
“Don’t bother trying to hide your laziness. You’re done. Get your stuff and get out of here.”
“Oh, George, no. This was a fluke,” Jordan protested. “The bag broke. I know you’re smart enough to see that.”
George ignored her. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my side since you got hired. I’m going to enjoy watching you walk out of here.”
