Page 68 of Cupcake of the Month
“Good morning.” She chirped and flitted around the kitchen like a sparrow, flying from the refrigerator for yogurt to the drawer for a spoon. And was she…humming?
It was too much happiness for his present mood. “Hi.”
She tacked a piece of paper on the wall next to the daily schedule. It was a list of foods and a timeline of preparations for the dinner, down to the minute. Underneath was the serving schedule for Anthon. Ah, there was the Wendy he knew.
He raised his eyebrows at the list of foods she had already written for him.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She pressed her palms together. “It’s just that staying on the good side of the Junior League is huge. I trust you, I promise, but if I can’t tell that we’re on schedule, I’ll go crazy. I’m sure you don’t want me asking you every five minutes. And If I mess this up, Aunt Eulalee would skin me alive.”
“And then she’d leave your carcass out to dry outside the door as a warning to others: Do not mess with the Junior League.”
Wendy pointed at him. “Exactly.”
Footsteps sounded down the servants staircase, and Rob appeared, a lazy grin on his lips, his eyes zeroing in on Wendy. “There you are. And you were doing so well.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled into her neck before turning to Josh. “I’ll keep her out of the kitchen.”
He marshaled her back up the stairs, still holding her captive.
“More sex isn’t going to make me stop worrying,” Wendy hissed as they disappeared from the landing.
“If I do it right, it will.”
Their easy show of affection struck Josh in his gut. That used to be him, able to laugh and love and be free.
He shoved his emotions into the bottom of his shoe and checked Wendy’s list, then found the recipe cards Eulalee had left behind. The meatloaf was almost as popular as the fried chicken at Fountenoy Hall, so he was familiar with that one already. The simple tomato and okra dish was new, but he’d made something similar for Barb several times. Cornbread, macaroni and cheese, three-bean salad. Straightforward appetizers and a fruit tray. Good ol’ southern home cooking. Easy peasy.
The scent of the fresh baked cornbread had permeated all corners of the kitchen by the time Anthon arrived. He took a deep, appreciative breath before glancing at Josh. Then his frown returned and he muttered something about common cooking.
After that, they ignored each other, with Josh finishing with the tomatoes and Anthon gathering the dry seasonings for the salad dressing. Josh used Wendy’s list as a check for his own. The neatly cut pieces of fruit were ready to be plated and the pimento spread was keeping cool in the fridge. The pasta was ready for Anthon to put in the oven. Every item could be checked off. He had timed it perfectly, as Jordan had yet to arrive at the Hall.
His suppressed feelings surged. To see her, to greet her properly, to kiss her in a way that proved he missed her. But if he stayed, he’d have to leave her all too soon to get to his catering gig and make excuses as to why he wouldn’t come back.
“I’m leaving,” he told Anthon. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? You don’t need me to explain anything to you?”
“Oh, please.” His lip curled.
“Wendy has my number if you need to get a hold of me. Like if you can’t remember how to check if a meatloaf is done. Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help.”
“I won’t need it.” He squinted down his nose at the beans.
“Great.” Josh gave the man a salute and headed to his beat-up car.
Chapter 13
Josh paced his apartment, waiting for Zach to get home. Barb would be there to pick him up in a little more than an hour, and Josh had planned on talking to his brother before he left. But he couldn’t do that if Zach wasn’t there.
Now half an hour.
The sound of thudding footsteps on the stairs had Josh wiping the sweat off his palms before adopting a casual pose at the kitchen table.
“Hey,” he said when his brother walked in.
Zach gave him a half-nod and swung into his room.
“I was hoping we could talk,” Josh said. He glanced at his watch.
Zach sighed and put down his backpack. “What?”
Crap. He had five minutes. The talk would have to wait. “I wanted to check in with you.”
