Page 47 of Cupcake of the Month
Duarte had already delivered carrots and colorful potatoes to the kitchen island. The coffee beckoned, so she poured herself a cup. Josh followed her every move like a tangible caress, his face a mixture of wariness and longing. He wasn’t ignoring her like she feared he might.
“Want one?”
He jerked his head to the mug on the counter. She took a sip, keeping the eye contact going.
Finally he let out a breath and went back to the mixing bowl. She wandered over and leaned against him to peer at the yellow batter.
“Pancakes?”
“Waffles.” His voice had a rough, gravely quality to it, like he hadn’t spoken all morning. She stayed close while he continued stirring, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. The oven timer beeped, and Josh turned it off, then got a spoon out of the drawer.
Anthon entered the kitchen from the dining room and paused inside the swinging doors, hands at his hips. He surveyed the kitchen like it was his personal domain.
Josh dipped the spoon in the sauce and gave a half-nod of approval.
The sound of a throat clearing tore Jordan’s attention away from him and back to Anthon.
“Need some water?” Josh asked.
Jordan bit her lip to keep from laughing. Whatever Anthon was expecting, he wasn’t getting it from Josh.
Anthon frowned. “Since I was absent from dinner last night,I expected a report.”
Why did the man insist on behaving as though he was in charge? Jordan almost interjected, but Josh didn’t need her to defend him.
“Forecast calls for a lovely day with temperatures in the mid eighties.” Josh removed the sauce pan from the burner. “Looks like fall is right around the corner.”
Jordan pressed her lips together as she fished a spoon out of the drawer so she could taste the sauce. He flicked a blank stare her way before tightening his mouth and taking the utensil, dipping it, and handing it back. It was a peach barbeque glaze for that evening’s dinner and damn good.
“A report on the state of the kitchen.”
Josh scanned the room. “Still in Georgia, Auntie Em.”
Anthon narrowed his eyes. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Glazed fried chicken, green beans, a summer salad, and chocolate cake.” Josh’s tone turned professional since Anthon had asked a relevant question, and he gestured to the menu Wendy had posted, then to the stove. “The glaze is done and the cake is in the oven.”
Another timer went off and Josh removed the dessert, filling the kitchen with a heavenly scent.
“That smells amazing,” Jordan said.
Anthon frowned and made a show of inspecting the six-burner stove and the countertops. “The eggs are looking good. You didn’t make fondant for the cake?”
“For a fried chicken dinner?” Jordan asked. Both men turned to her, and she shrugged. “I’m just saying. It’s comfort food. Who wants a heavy sugar mixture to go along with that?”
Josh took out the cinnamon. “I’m making a frosting so simple that even you can’t mess it up and so delicious it will satisfy your overachieving taste buds.”
He put a dash of the spice to the waffle batter, and thentested the heat of the heavy cast-iron griddle. His knuckles tightened around the handle.
The other man sighed and took a spoon out of the drawer. He dipped it in the frosting and brought it up to his nose and gave a hearty sniff, then touched the tip of his tongue to the sweet before taking a larger lick. “I suppose it will do.”
“My life is complete.”
“You.” Anthon snapped his fingers at Jordan. “Make yourself useful and cut some fruit.”
Josh pinned him with his steely blue-eyed glare. “Don’t snap at her.”
She bit back a grin. Her hero.
