“Knock-knock.”
“Come on in,” Jenny answered upon hearing Lessy’s voice. “I’m in the kitchen.” She cracked a second egg into the chocolate batter she was making. The recipe in her head was easy, and she’d made it a thousand times. She already had one batch of cupcakes baking, and with a few magical keystrokes on her laptop, she’d had enough ingredients appear on her counter to make at least six dozen more. Of course, with those, she’d simply tell the cupcakes to make themselves and hop their happy little frosted selves into her cardboard travel boxes once finished. But the ones in the oven from the batter in her bowl were special for Bo—and she didn’t cut corners for her favorite little man.
Male voices mixed with Lessy’s. Jenny turned with a start. As she did, the wooden spoon in her hand followed her momentum before she could stop it or the giant glob of batter it held—the chocolate hit Bill’s friend square in the chest with a splat. What didn’t fall to the floor or on his Italian loafers was left bleeding into the fabric of what she was sure was a very expensive tailored dress shirt.
“Oh my Goddess. I’m so sorry.” Jenny stared at the dark spot, a button poking through. “Maybe I can snap it clean. Goddess, I hope so. There is no way to wash that. It stains.” She’d had enough T-shirts and aprons ruined to know that for a fact. This was her living, and her clothes didn’t matter. This guy, though, there would be no way she could afford to replace whatever expensive labels he wore.
He ran his finger over what remained and licked it clean. Jenny watched in fascination. Her fear turned into something way more dangerous as his finger slid back over his lips, and a smile replaced the startled expression he first had. If she wasn’t frozen in place by the heat he was making her feel, she’d be laughing. Jenny had given a very literal definition to the term assault and battery, one that sounded with a splat as a second blob landed on her kitchen tile near the first pile of chocolate batter.
He chuckled first, then glanced down at himself. “What are you making?”
His voice was husky, quiet and oh so very sexy. Jenny attempted to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. “Cupcakes, um, a special order.”
“They’ll be delicious, if what is on my shirt is anything to go by.”
He was joking—not rolling-on-the-floor laughing, but at least joking. She’d been prepared for an angry accusation and demand for replacing the ruined clothing. But Jenny was taken aback by the compliment.
“Everything Jenny makes is absolutely the best food you’ll ever eat in the entire realm—I can guarantee it,” Bill added.
The oven buzzed. Without thinking, she made the muffin pans remove themselves and the next batch quickly fill another two dozen slots in waiting pans and put themselves in to bake. It was the first time she’d not done every single step of Bo’s treats by hand. At least this part wouldn’t be noticeable, even by him.
Lessy slid next to her and put her arm around her shoulder, but glanced at Bill’s friend. “Joshua, officially meet Jenny Von Zuzle. Jenny, this is Joshua Englewoodie, one of Bill’s closest friends from back in Hollywood, Vermont.
“Joshua, I will tell you before you go and get all attached to her amazing skills in the kitchen, Jenny here has another guy who holds the key to her heart.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a split second where his face fell, the lines at either side of his mouth disappearing and taking his dashing smile with them. He recovered quickly, but the light wasn’t the same in his eyes.
“Don’t worry, big guy,” Lessy joked. “He’s only four, so you don’t have any real competition.”
And within a breath’s time, there was heat back in his possessive stare and the smile broadened across his face. Jenny elbowed Lessy in the side. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.
Lessy leaned in. “He has a huge crush on you.”
Assjacket was a small town. She had gone to school with anyone within a couple of decades of her age, and not once had she’d even considered them as possibilities on any dating front of any kind. Neither the fun-only kind, nor the walking-down-the-rose-petal-aisle kind.
Mr. Englewoodie, over six feet, muscular, with gorgeous Kelly-green eyes and professionally cut light-brown hair—was about to make her forget she was absolutely stupid when it came to being around the opposite sex. Almost. The air rushed from her lungs as she realized she’d been staring, and her face felt as hot as if she’d been holding her head inside her kitchen oven along with Bo’s treats.
Fuck a duck. Me? No possible way. I’m a no one, a T-shirt-wearing, messy-bun don’t-care-hair girl.
Then it hit her out of left field. A smirk she’d tried to clap her hand over to hide turned into a snort. Then all-out giggling she couldn’t pull the reins on overtook her . Putting her finger up, she escaped the kitchen and hurried down the short hallway to her bedroom, grabbed her pillow, buried her face in it and lost it.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Lessy asked.
Jenny peeked at her friend, and another horrendous pig sound came from her on its own. “Woodie? His last name is…like…saying pecker head.”
“Oh my Goddess, shhh. He’s pretty sensitive about that.” Lessy covered her lips with a finger, whispering her statement. “But of all people in this town, I’d never have guessed you would end up like a laughing hyena, and kinda cruelly, I might add, there, girlfriend.”
“I know. First, I can’t talk around him at the diner. Then I might as well have aimed and ruined his shirt with chocolate, and now—I’m a total bitch. But I will say, I do not believe you on the whole crush thing, so if I hurt his feelings because his name is—oh my Goddess—too perverted to even think about—”
“Think about…his, his…woodie?” Lessy’s expression turned from a laugh-lined face to a jaw-dropped shock. “Goddess above. I didn’t see it right away. You are completely, one hundred percent turned on and attracted to him.”
Her entire body might as well have been doused by a bucket of ice-cold water. Her laughter died instantly as Jenny studied Lessy’s face. She replayed the statement in her own mind no fewer than three times, trying to make a square peg fit into a round hole.
“No, I am not. Not even… Where did you, why would you—nuh-uh. No way.”
“Wow…your vocabulary was reduced to that of a schoolyard child. Nothing proves my theory correct more than that.” Lessy winked. “Besides, I heard all about how you made him his snooty-ass coffee without even asking how he liked it when he ordered. You two have a connection.”
“I have said maybe three actual words to that man. He’s a stranger. For all I know, he could be the worst black magic warlock in the entire realm, or…or…for Goddess’s sake—a vampire. Holy shitola granola.” She started pacing. “And…for another thing—he’s rich. Like rich, rich. Have you seen his clothes? I’m a dork, and I still know I can smell über-rich radiating off him. Like, rich as fuck.”
“Are you done?” Lessy put her hand on her hip.
Jenny stopped. Glancing at the window seat in her bedroom, she counted on her fingers. “Can’t talk to him, vampire here to murder me, too rich for his own damn good, and the murder thing. See? I don’t know him, and I can already name four things wrong with him.”
“You can’t count murder twice, and he’s not a vampire. He’s not here to murder you. I don’t know on the talking to him, but you’re a wee bit correct on judging his wealth. But don’t hold that against him. He’s actually a really nice guy. I talked to him about the whole biting comment. I can assure you, it didn’t come off as he meant it. He’s explained himself, in detail, trust me, more times than I even care to hear. He feels bad about that and won’t let it go. That’s why we’re here, actually. He wants to apologize to you in person."
Jenny turned, backed up, and eased down onto the cushion of the window seat next to her familiar. He groaned and moved over, not wanting to share his spot the late morning sunshine was providing him.
“Move over, sun hog. Geez, just act like you own the joint. Crabby ass,” Jenny muttered to herself. She dared to look up at Lessy, not prepared, but at least sitting down for any more information overload to be dumped on her. But Lessy’s attention had focused on something else completely.
Oh, shit on a shingle.