Page 73 of Cupcake of the Month
“No. Jordan, no.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “I’m not married.”
“Good.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Then what is it, Josh?”
He didn’t answer. She held his gaze for a moment, then went back to the recliner, humming the Georgia fight song in her head to keep from speaking. She put the final edits on the RFI, then sent it to Luke for approval. The silence stretched between them, but she wasn’t going to speak first.
Josh leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “I know this is a shitty situation.”
She closed her laptop. “I don’t know that, because I don’t know the situation. So tell me. Tell me the situation. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind about you.”
He grimaced at that. “I need more time, Jordan.”
The formality of her full name made her wince. She wanted to start thinking forever, and he was delaying the now. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “You’ve had eight years.”
“Yeah. I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair with a quick, jerky motion, then lightly pounded his fist against the wall and opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She said nothing, only maintained eye contact while he crossed the threshold. What was he hiding? Why was he running? Now that he tasted her recipe, was he discarding her for the next baker? He should have the damn balls to break it off instead of leaving things unsaid like he had eight years ago. Shame on her for expecting something different.
The door closed gently behind him, not hitting him on the ass on his way out.
Jordan put her elbows on her knees and cradled her head, fighting the angry tears burning behind her eyes. She listened for the familiar roar of his beat-up car. After a few minutes of silence, she peeked through her window. Josh sat in the front seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other below the dash.
The distinct, rapidtic tic ticof an engine trying to turn over reached her ears. After a few moments, he slammed both hands on the steering wheel, then rested his forehead on it.
Oh. Whoa.
His shoulders raised and lowered in a deep breath. He exited the car and disappeared into Fountenoy Hall, only to return a short time later to pop the hood of the van and hook up the batteries.
She tried not to pay attention. What happened was hisbusiness.
The van’s engine purred, but Josh’s car gave little more than a kitten meow before falling silent. The cursing became louder after he turned off the van’s ignition. She went out the door in time to see him kick his car. Several times.
“Josh!” His name escaped before she could think to hold it back, before the sane part of her brain urged her to leave well enough alone.
He gave one final kick, his chest expanding and falling with short, rapid breaths. When he turned to her, his face was a contorted mix of rage and hopelessness.
A wave of yearning swept up within her and she stepped closer to him. Dang feelings. They wouldn’t turn off or be forced away. She couldn’t tamp down the love she still felt for him.
“I got it.” His voice was rough and he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step away. “I’m going to tell Brandi I’m leaving my car.”
“And then I can take you home.” She wouldn’t be scared away. Take that, Mr. Don’t-Need-Help.
He paused midstride, his mouth creased in annoyance. “It’s too far.”
“No, it’s not.”
He gave her a measured stare before dipping his chin. “Fine.”
Fine. Good. Even if the help was accepted reluctantly.
Jordan returned to the stables to wait.
Josh entered the common room about fifteen minutes later. “Brandi knows a guy who can give me a tow.”
“Okay.” She gestured to the chair next to hers. “You want to sit while you wait?”
He parked himself on a recliner. “Stop being all nice and normal, Jordan. You know you wouldn’t be if I wasn’t here.”
“You’d rather I played mean and bitchy?”
