Page 77 of Cupcake of the Month
“It’s by the sofa.”
He pointed. “The door.”
She pierced him with her frank gaze. “I’m staying. Mr. Berry invited me here, not you.”
The intensity, the determination she exuded scared the shit out of him. He’d worked so hard to build up barriers againstpain and loss and this woman had started their destruction with a look, a touch. She would ruin him if she tried even a little bit harder.
God, he ached for her to tear them down. And he was petrified she’d succeed.
The oven timer chimed and he stepped back to the stove to turn it off, the space between them an unstable bridge waiting for a strong wind to knock it down. He grabbed the pot holders and lifted the heavy pan onto the stovetop, sending a rich, tomato aroma into the small kitchen.
Jordan had moved across the table, alone and unreachable. She held her head high, elongating the graceful column of her neck.
“You have a brother.”
Josh gave a single nod.
“Is that why you never invited me over?” She ran her hand over the table top as if brushing off crumbs, but Mrs. Sumner kept it pristine. “For the past month, I’ve been running all sorts of scenarios in my head as to why you never invited me to spend the night. Never showed me where you live. All these big and awful things and it’s only because you have a brother?”
It was the perfect excuse, but he couldn’t embrace it. “Part of it.” He grabbed a whole carrot and chopped. There was so much to confess, he didn’t know where to start.
“You know what, Josh? I don’t care. I don’t want to know.” She held up a hand, her muscles were rigid and tense, her eyes pained. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been holding on to my feelings for you and hoping, but I was just a flavor of the month to you. I absolve you of any agreement or commitment we may have had, stated or inferred. You’re free. You can go back to finding a nightly baker.”
This was best, even as his world crumbled around him. Let her believe what she wanted. She gave him a nod and pushedopen the door leading out of the kitchen.
Damn it, he had to admit the truth. He owed her that much. “I don’t have any,” he mumbled.
She stopped in the threshold. “I know, Josh. The feelings are all on me.”
“No, I don’t...” The words jumped up in his throat. “I don’t have any bakers, Jordan. Women, I mean. There hasn’t been anyone since you.”
A small, sad smile graced her lips and she stepped back into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. “I appreciate that. You can change that right up again once I leave.”
She didn’t get it. “I mean...” A throbbing pulsed in his brain and he put down the knife. Apparently his consciousness was vehemently opposed to him sharing this, but his gut still had the upper hand. She had to know that there were feelings. So many feelings. Too many feelings when it came to her. “There hasn’t been anyone since you. Eight years ago.”
She froze. “But Lana said…”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ask her. Ask for honesty. It was all a game. I don’t even remember how it got started. Someone drove me home and everyone assumed we’d slept together. Maybe she told them we did. I don’t know. After that, no one admitted that they couldn’t get an easy lay like me in bed.”
“Oy.” Jordan gave a small snort. “I don’t think she actually said she’d slept with you. Strongly implied.”
“The only thing I drove was her car. Have you seen it? That sucker’s sweet.”
Jordan offered him a soft laugh, but he could tell she was processing what he had said. Her stare drove down into his soul. “So you haven’t...”
“No.”
“In eight years?”
“Not until two weeks ago.” He raked his hand around the back of his neck.
“Eight years?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. It was too hard to get you out of my mind.” He pushed the vegetables to the middle of the cutting board.
“So this was about me.” Her voice held a tinge of amusement.
He scooped up the veggies and dropped them into the bowl. “Stop staring at me like I’m a museum specimen.”
