Page 8 of Cupcake of the Month
He unlocked the door to the lobby, and Berry opened his apartment door as soon as Josh’s shoes clicked on the tile. The man was the unofficial watchdog for the residents. Which was to say, he was nosy. “You’re out late.”
“Hey, Berry. Yeah, I had a job in Macon.”
“Fixed the stove light for you. Zach was a good assistant. Let me know if there’re any issues.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Berry nodded and went back inside. Soon the TV blared from behind his closed door.
He climbed up the three flights to his semi-darkened apartment. Zach had kept the stove light on and it greeted him with a constant hum. His brother had also opened the futonin the living room. For a thirteen year old, the kid was damn thoughtful.
Josh dodged around the heavy punching bag that hung suspended from the ceiling in the kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge. Zach had put a dent in the stroganoff and the broccoli was gone. A note from one of the neighbors sat on the table, saying he had hung out with Zach until about nine when the kid went to bed.
Not a day went by that Josh wasn’t thankful for the other residents. With Josh acting as mom and dad, having other adults around who willingly volunteered to be with his half-brother while Josh was out was a benefit. The catered snacks would be his thank-you contribution to the weekly Sunday potluck.
Josh kicked off his shoes and threw his shirt into the hamper in their sole bathroom. His pants and socks followed and he headed back to the living room in his boxers. The wooden privacy screen was folded against the wall and he moved it into place. Its dark brown color and tight weave would shield the futon so Zach could turn on the kitchen light when he got ready for school. He’d give a sleepy Josh a hug goodbye before he walked to the bus stop with the other children from the complex.
Finally, when Josh’s head hit the pillow and the hard metal support bar ran down the length of his back, he allowed himself to think of Jordan.
No. He needed rest, not a wet dream.
Though he could do both.
Damn, she was gorgeous, with her luminous brown eyes and smooth skin. But it went beyond that. Every moment he had spent with her had been stimulating. She had intrigued him from the start. Still did. Even when she glared at him now with something close to contempt. Whether for flirting with Lana or simply existing, he didn’t know.
Yes, he did.
Behind her cold look hid a fire he itched to rekindle, but he couldn’t tell her why he’d left her. Better she hate him for it than know the truth about him and his family.
He groped along the floor for the pile of classic books stacked next to the futon and grabbed the one on top. His escape and personal form of continuing education since dropping out of college. He banished Jordan from his inner thoughts, ignoring the tightening of his body, and rolled over. He shouldn’t waste his time thinking about a gorgeous brunette that he didn’t deserve and shattered dreams that would never come true.
Chapter 2
Jordan entered the Inn at Fountenoy Hall through the back door as the morning light brightened the sky behind her. The outside air had stubbornly held on to the late summer humidity. She had to wait for the fog on the lenses of her squared glasses to dissipate before she could see the kitchen clearly.
She had no official job at the Inn, but she wasn’t one to be idle. Doing odd jobs made her feel better for not paying Wendy and Brandi room and board. Jordan could have stayed on the family’s floor of the plantation-turned-inn, but she liked having that little bit of privacy in the renovated stables. And her friends respected that, keeping in their curiosity about why she had fled south at the beginning of the summer. They didn’t hound her like the reporters at home angling for a sound bite.
She had closed Shoenover Strategic Management until her civil lawsuit played out, following up with her previous clients and letting her assistant Mark get caught up on mountains of paperwork. Every so often he forwarded a request from a client, which she promptly told him to reject until she knew if her business would survive.
As expected, Wendy’s and Brandi’s great-aunt Eulalee stood by the large oven, flipping bread pieces in her cast iron skillet, her white hair up in a bun and a homey, red-checkered apron covering her clothes. Considering the empty egg carton and the sauce bubbling on the stove, she’d been there for a while. The ever-present scent of peaches from the Fountenoy Hall orchard permeated the air, accompanied by sizzling sounds coming from the stovetop. Several dirty dishes already waited by the three-compartment sink. Jordan would get to them after breakfast.
“Good morning, sweetie,” said Eulalee. “How was your time last night?”
“Fun,” Jordan lied. Seeing Josh again had knocked her off kilter. As much as she longed to ignore him, her body’s aching response to him hadn’t changed in eight years. It remembered every delicious detail of their one night together. “I got to meet one of our state representatives.”
“Ooh, rubbing elbows with high society, are you?”
Brandi bustled into the room carrying an empty serving dish and plopped it on the counter. Half of the collar of her Fountenoy Hall blue polo shirt had popped up, and she fiddled with it. “We have hungry people today, Aunt Eulalee.”
“I’ve got more eggs ready.” Eulalee scooted away from the oven to make room. Brandi slid out the warming tray and marched it to the dining room.
It was nice seeing Brandi working Wendy’s meticulously-planned schedule instead of blowing it off like she had when they inherited the Inn from their Grandma Maybelle. Then Brandi had acted like she had no intention of giving up her party-girl ways.
Jordan peeked out the pass-through window to the full dining room. The side tables were each occupied, and two couples sat with Wendy’s boyfriend Rob at the family-style table in the middle. He had spread a map of Claremont in front of him, and another man circled things on it while he talked.
“Those folks are here for the Jeep Festival.” Ms. Eulalee peered over her shoulder. “Actually, the women are going to fawn over the cars while the men explore the town and take a dip in Scarlett Springs. Rob’s pointing out interesting sights for them to see. Want to eat breakfast in here?”
“Sure. Thanks.” Jordan’s phone beeped as she scooted onto a stool at the kitchen island. She picked up the device and repositioned her glasses. The text wasn’t from a number she had programmed into her phone.
