He grunted. “The kitchen’s what matters.”
“One-track mind.” She grinned, settling her hands on her hips and arching her back in a stretch. It strained the already thin fabric even tighter over her tits and eliminated any doubt in his mind: he trulywasthe luckiest man in the state, and she had no idea what track his mind wasreallyon.
Then again, he had a secret weapon of his own. He’d pulled his hair back that morning, but it had slipped out of its band during the hours of work he’d already put in. No time like the present to fix it.
Purposely not glancing at Josie, he pulled the band free and gripped it in his teeth as his hair spilled around his shoulders. He tilted his head and massaged his scalp, working out the tension that came from pulling the heavy strands up and off his neck. Then he scraped his fingers along his skull to gather it up again, bundling it in place with his left hand and reaching for the band with his right. As he did, he looked up and found her standing stock-still, watching him with an almost feral gaze. He took his time securing the mass behind his head, prolonging the seconds that she’d spend watching him with those ravenous eyes. She didn’t blink once.
When his hair was safely tucked away again, her lids fluttered shut and she blurted, “Anyway. Yeah. Can you come to the kitchen? I’ve got something to show you.”
He hid his smile at her flushed cheeks and followed her down the creaky steps, eyes carefully at shoulder level. In the now immaculate kitchen, she gestured proudly to a stack of big, flat cardboard containers on the center island.
“We just spent a week hauling old boxes out.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I can’t believe you don’t think you’re funny.” She flashed him a wrinkled-nosed grin, then pointed at the pile. “Open.”
He did as commanded because that’s how their relationship worked these days. She gave a command, and he picked up or put down or shifted whatever she required. He slid open the lid on the topmost skinny box and was greeted by the wordsHave Your Cake Bakerylooking back at him in the logo’s clean, modern font.
“Window decals!” she chirped. “We can save a little money installing them ourselves. I’ve done tons of these over the years for other businesses, so I’ll put them up once the painting’s done. I was just too excited for you to see them.”
He ran a hand over his mouth and looked at the large piece of vinyl. His shop name. His brand. His dream, right there in a box. It was all happening, better and faster than he’d ever imagined. He let the box top fall shut, and the motion disturbed a sheet of paper tucked inside. When he retrieved it from the floor, a quick scan revealed it to be a printout of Josie’s emails between her and the vendor. He squinted at it, uncertain of what he was seeing.
“This date.”
She slid the top box aside to work on opening the next one. “What about it?”
He looked down at the paper again, which was clearly dated April twenty-ninth. Almost a month and a half ago. “I wasn’t even sure I was going to work with you then.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I knew you would. You were too good not to be in business for yourself. I just got a jump on lining up vendors for the future. Whatever it takes to make you a success.”
The return of her quick grin had him rocking back on his heels while he gripped the paper in one hand and squeezed the back of his neck with the other. That long ago? She’d believed in him that much, without any actual proof that he could pull all this off? Something warm ignited in his chest, and he opened his mouth, unsure of what was going to come out but afraid it would be drowning in earnest sentiment.
And then the back door slammed open and a voice called, “Your work crew’s here!”
Josie tossed a guilty look his way as Finn and Tom tromped into the kitchen with their arms full of painting supplies. “I invited some helpers. Hope that’s okay. Hey, guys!”
And just like that, Erik found himself enveloped in the happy chaos of Josie and her friends as they placed drop cloths and distributed cans of paint in the front room. Not the ideal scenario for a man used to solitude, but before long he found his groove, rolling paint onto his portion of the side wall and letting their conversation wash over him in waves. A TV premiere that weekend. A new restaurant to try. Mutual friend gossip. Job complaints. Everyday life in Chicago that actually sounded like something Erik wouldn’t mind exploring. Under the right circumstances. With the right people.
“I hear my control-freak brother let you borrow his baby.”
The question pulled Erik out of the trance he’d fallen into as he applied strokes of bright yellow paint to the wall in front of him, and he looked left to see that Finn had progressed on her area so much that they were working side by side.
“Yep.” He kept the answer short so Finn wouldn’t guess that if he hadn’t lucked into his own van, he would’ve strapped cakes on his back like a packhorse rather than ask her brother for his Jeep again. Anything to avoid giving Josie another reason to look at that fucking guy with admiration shining in her big brown eyes.
“Pretty gorgeous, right?”
Erik’s paint roller stuttered to a halt as he frantically wondered how she’d known he’d been thinking about her roommate’s eyes.
A denial formed on his lips, but she kept talking. “I assume Josie chose it? Everything she does is so bold.” She gestured to the now-yellow walls, and Erik’s shoulders relaxed.
“Oh, the paint. Yeah, that was all her.”
If it were up to him, the walls would be some shade of bone or ecru or eggshell, but Josie had insisted on something sunny and optimistic to reflect the excitement of the couples who’d be picking out their wedding cakes there. He hadn’t had the heart to stand in the middle of the hardware store and tell her that not every engaged couple was as starry-eyed about marriage as she seemed to be. Instead, he’d handed over his credit card and mentally calculated what fraction of the farmland he’d sold was covering this purchase. That’s how he was thinking about all his expenses now: how pinched would Pops’s expression have gotten to know that his beloved land was paying for a new pack of aprons or light fixtures for the public area? Would he begrudge Erik the rented sander to refinish the wide hardwood beams they’d uncovered underneath the old linoleum?
The thought had him dropping his roller into the pan and muttering an excuse to Finn as he pivoted and walked to the kitchen, hoping it would help him locate the heart of his mission again. Once there, he opened the refrigerator and peered at the empty shelves waiting for the eggs and butter and cream he’d stock them with soon. He cracked the oven door to look again at the interior he’d scoured to a shine the previous weekend, working so vigorously that his arms had ached the following day. Then he braced his hands on the kitchen island and sucked in a steadying breath. His domain. He was in control here. Hopefully someday soon he’d need to hire assistants to help keep up with the order volume.
Of course, that wouldn’t happen if they didn’t finish painting and get his signage up. The thought had him running his hands over the boxes Josie had delivered, pausing over the final unopened one. When he broke through the tape securing the lid and saw what was inside, his jaw clenched too tight for words.
Too bad that’s when Josie sauntered into the kitchen.
