Beefcake & Cupcakes Read online

  “We’re something, that’s for sure. Two women terrified of the one thing everyone else seems to want.”

  “Love.”

  “I was going to say commitment.”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  “Not in my world. What about yours?”

  Cara shrugged. “True. I loved Dale, but that didn’t have a damn thing to do with his commitment.”

  “Jeff, too.”

  “Pricks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Gage?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll become one eventually, but right now, no, he’s not.”

  Cara sat up and squidged around with her legs curled beneath her. “Why do you think he’ll eventually become one? He seems like a nice guy. He certainly seems like he’s into you.”

  Lara picked a pair of tissues off her left thigh and flicked them onto the stack of newspapers on the coffee table. “Because guys like him always do. I mean, I’m okay, but look at him. He can get any woman he wants and then I’ll be out the door. Been there, don’t want to do it again.”

  “Ah.” Cara scrunched the tissues in the front page of the sports section. “Jeff rearing his ugly head.”

  “Jeff’s head was not ugly. That was part of the problem.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the one on his shoulders.”

  That got a chuckle out of Lara. “I wish I could say you were right, but that wasn’t Jeff’s problem either.”

  “Bullshit. That little head of his got a sucky idea in its tiny little pea-sized brain and decided you weren’t good enough for the collective it that was Jeff McMonster.”

  Lara raised an eyebrow. “McMonster? Please tell me you never called me that when I had his last name.”

  “Of course not. And I only called him that in my mind. Though I think I might have slipped up once. His mom gave me a funny look at that last birthday party you had for him.”

  The birthday party where she’d wanted to show him her idea for her cake business. She’d slaved over that cake, and dammit, it’d been good. She’d taken pictures of it and it would stand up to the ones she made now. But Jeff had been horrified that his wife had baked a cake instead of ordering it from the high-end bakery his firm used.

  And she’d stood there, taking his derision because she hadn’t wanted to make a scene.

  “Can you imagine what McMonster would say if he saw you with Gage? Especially if he saw Gage at work.”

  “BeefCake isn’t the only thing Gage does, you know.”

  Cara snorted, the giggles still coming. “Sorry, Lara, but that just sounds so wrong.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, but you have to admit, it’s funny. I mean, couldn’t they have come up with an, oh, I don’t know, subtler name?”

  “You have to admit, it gets your attention.”

  “So do the guys.”

  “Therefore, it’s the perfect name. I mean, there’s no sugar-coating what they do. Might as well go for it.”

  “Words you might want to consider taking to heart, Lar. The man wants you.”

  “I could say the same thing to you, Car.”

  The giggles dried up like spilled milk and a roll of Brawny.

  Gage was rather brawny…

  Cara ran a hand through her curls and Lara refrained from telling her she looked like Medusa. That’d been their secret terror back in high school. With good reason.

  “Okay, I will if you will.”

  “Gage hasn’t asked me to move in with him.” And she was not mentioning the lap dance thing. TMI, even between cousins.

  “Not that.” Cara had mastered the Evil Eye from their Italian grandmother on their fathers’ side. “Give him a chance. Give you guys a chance to get to that point. And I’ll see if I can convince Nick about the forty-eight hour thing. Maybe seventy-two if he’s lucky.”

  Progress. Cara was definitely making progress.

  Now, did she have the courage to do so as well?

  Chapter 15

  The Universe decided not to cooperate.

  Between Gage’s day job and her sudden influx of orders, not to mention his after-hours BeefCake, Inc. activities, there wasn’t any time for them to finish what they’d started. By Thursday night—at eleven-oh-seven—Lara had to think that the Universe was trying to tell her something.

  “I hate fondant,” Cara muttered, trying to open her car with her key upside down.

  Lara flipped it over for her. “Fondant is paying your mortgage.”

  “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s make a bunch of fifties and hundreds out of the stuff. Think the tellers at the bank would cash them?”

  Lara put her hand on Cara’s head and pushed her down into the driver’s seat like a cop with a suspect. “I’m not so sure you ought to be driving home.”

  Cara sank back against the seat. “I’m not. I’m going to Nick’s.”

  “You did it? You convinced him?”

  Cara nodded. “I told him relationships were all about compromise. I was willing if he was.” She opened one eye. “Plus, it’s closer than my place right now.”

  Lucky Cara. Gage’s house was an extra half hour beyond hers, and at eleven o’clock at night, too far to drive. Plus his sister and nephew were staying there.

  Yeah, what was with the Universe anyway?

  “Drive carefully. Text me when you get there.”

  “You too, Lar.” Cara pulled the door shut, turned on the car, and lowered her window. “Love you.”

  Lara practically flopped into her driver’s seat. “You, too.”

  God, she was tired. She didn’t think she’d ever been this bone-weary. They were going to have to splurge for the rubber mats by the prep tables that she hadn’t wanted to spend profits on yet, but the Crocs she wore didn’t cut it on fifteen hour days. Her back was killing her.

  She turned on the A/C, rolled up her windows, and cranked the show tunes station to loud, needing something to keep her awake, but the fact that she couldn’t sing shouldn’t have to keep others awake.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the rear view mirror. Oh, God, her curls had tightened up like corkscrews thanks to the humidity, with green buttercream “highlights” from when Cara had turned the mixer on too high and sent frosting flying all over the place (note to self: check the top of the cabinets tomorrow before sugar-addict mice show up). She looked like Medusa. Good thing she wasn’t seeing Gage tonight; he’d run screaming in the opposite direction.

  Although, since he’d put up with her Zambuca coma, maybe he wouldn’t.

  How in the world had he been interested in her that night?

  She’d never thought to ask Jeff what had attracted him to her back in the beginning. She’d met him at a restaurant she was reviewing. She’d been sitting at the bar, sampling the menu with all the self-confidence of a recent college graduate who’d landed her dream job, and he took the seat beside her. One thing had led to another and he asked for her number. He’dbeen nine years older, gorgeous in a blond, country club sort of way, with a law degree and the right amount of charming to get her stomach twirling with butterflies.

  She’d figured out later—too late—that her age had been her biggest draw for him. Someone he could mold into his perfect ideal of a partner’s wife. Even before the night she’d caught him cheating on her with the blonde, she’d thought he should have been with someone like the bimbo. He’d dated a few model types before her, but he said the Barbie and Ken comments had gotten old over the years. He’d wanted something—someone—different, and a short, dark, curvy Italian was definitely different. The fact that she’d hung on his every word probably only added to the appeal.

  For a little while at least. At least, she’d thought they had a couple of good years. But then she’d caught him, and well…

  He should’ve gone with the trophy wife in the first place. Blue-blood instead of pasta-sauce. Those types would never want any career other than being his perfect hostess.

 
She wondered what his fiancée did for a living. Or didn’t do. And if she were named Barbie.

  Lara pulled into her condo’s parking lot as the last note of Evita’s hit song faded away. She wasn’t a big fan of the Madonna version, but at least she knew all the words. Jeff’s fiancée’s name didn’t matter. Nor did the fiancée.

  Nor did Jeff.

  But Gage, on the other hand… What did he see when he looked at her? Was he into pasta-sauce? He’d been into steak and potatoes, so they had that in common. But was that enough of a foundation for a relationship?

  And who was to say he even wanted one? A couple of good nights, yes, he was definitely on board for that, but the long-haul?

  Lara climbed up the steps on the walkway to her condo. She was thirty-years-old; she needed to think about the long haul. Guys didn’t have to worry about it so much, but her eggs weren’t getting any younger, and if the pain in her lower back was any indication, she wasn’t going to be up for chasing toddlers around for many more years.

  She couldn’t waste those years with a guy just out for a good time. Great sex, no commitment, get together when they could… all of that in-the-moment stuff would’ve been fine in her twenties—except she’d blown those by being married to Mr. Ken Doll—but this was the rest of her life she was thinking about. She needed to stay focused on that and not the fact that Gage was like sugar on a stick and all she wanted to do was lick.

  She climbed the two steps to her front porch, opened the screen door—

  And saw the flowers.

  Not roses. Of course not. Roses would be too common. Too cliché. Too trophy wife.

  These were lilies. Tiger lilies, day lilies, calla lilies, with irises and chrysanthemums mixed in, running the gamut from red, to orange, and every shade of pink there was—with strands of rhinestones woven through.

  Saw these and thought of you.

  But you’re prettier.

  ~ G

  Okay, maybe there was something to be said for being in the moment.

  Chapter 16

  “Remember to leave the sunflowers in the cooler until the last minute, Cara, so they don’t wilt. This heat is going to be a killer on all the frosting.” Lara shoved several rolled-up dish towels under the box of sunflowers on the back seat of Cara’s car. She’d had to cut the stalks down to four feet instead of five, and also come up with a last-minute way to attach the actual flower part to them because she needed the van for the beach party delivery and Cara’s backseat was significantly shorter than how she’d planned to transport them. “And add another delivery van to our wish list.”

  “Before or after that second mixer?”

  “How about at the same time?”

  Cara slid into the driver’s seat, knocking her chef’s hat off in the process. “I think we’d kill ourselves to do it simultaneously, Lara. Seriously, I’m beat. I don’t know how you’ve been able to keep going.”

  Sheer determination inspired by Jeff’s monthly alimony checks.

  “You remember how to connect the stalks—”

  “Yes, yes, I remember. Hell, I dreamed about it last night, you have me so worried I’m going to do it wrong. It’s not rocket science, Lar. If I can pass the CPA exam, I can certainly screw a few bolts into some bamboo.”

  “But don’t screw them in too tightly or you’ll crack it and it’ll fall over. And if they fall over—”

  “It’ll have a domino effect on the rest of the garden. Yes, I know. I get it. I think that’s why I was up half the night last night.”

  “Maybe that had to do with Nick.”

  Cara yanked the door closed. “That was the first half of the night. You commandeered the rest of it. Now let me get out of here or I’ll never get there on time. Have fun at the beach party.”

  Lara stepped away from the car so Cara could leave, and swiped her forearm across her forehead. It felt like she was going to the beach. Minus the nice sea breeze. Only the beginning of June and already Mother Nature had decided to let out all the stops, upping the heat factor so it felt more like the middle of August.

  Especially when she pulled the van up to the party and saw Gage standing there in shorts, a tank top, a pair of flip flops, with his hair turned blond by long days in the sun. The man looked better to eat than one of her cupcakes.

  “Hey, Cupcake.”

  Forget the fondant; she was melting. “What are you doing here?”

  “Here, let me help you with that.” He picked up the Ferris wheel from the back of the van. “Two of my guys are here to perform. Gina is Bryan’s cousin.”

  “His cousin?” She slid the gurney out, unfolded the legs, set the brakes, then went to work dragging the sheet cake onto it. “You didn’t happen to have anything to do with us getting this job, did you?”

  He shrugged. “Gina needed dessert, you have dessert. Seemed like a perfect solution.”

  He just kept hammering at her armor, didn’t he?

  “Thank you.” She worked the words around the lump in her throat—and the tight rein she had on her emotions. Not every good-looking guy was like Jeff. Gage was proving that.

  “You’re welcome. Where do you want this?” Gage held up the Ferris wheel and his biceps flexed.

  And Gage definitely wasn’t like Jeff.

  She wiped a drop of perspiration off her forehead. It was really hot here in the sun. “Gina said she’d have two tables for me.”

  “Ah, yes. They’re next to the massage room addition. Follow me.”

  Gladly. His nylon shorts hung off his butt with a tempting sway, and every so often they curved over his cheeks very nicely.

  Yep, really hot here in the sun.

  He emptied the rest of the van for her while she set up the wheel and put the finishing touches on the sheet cake.

  “These look great, Lara.” He walked behind the table and handed her the box of brochures, leaning in for a quick kiss. “You look great, too.”

  She grabbed her chef’s hat self-consciously. “The heat must be melting your brain. No one looks great in a chef’s hat.”

  “You do.” He kissed her again—too quick and not near enough tongue action. Matter of fact, no tongue action.

  She sighed and reminded herself that that was a good thing. The baker shouldn’t be drooling all over her cupcakes. All over Gage? Sure. Cupcakes? Notsomuch.

  She fanned her cheeks. “Boy, it sure is hot tonight.”

  “It is now.” He gave her that sideways smile that was guaranteed to heat her blood even more than the sun, and ran a knuckle down her arm. “I’ve missed you.”

  She shivered, which was ridiculous in this heat. “Me, too. Thanks for the flowers.”

  “You already thanked me for them.”

  “A text doesn’t count. I wanted to thank you in person.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, say, until after this shindig?”

  She wasn’t going to be finished here until after eleven, then had to get the van back, clean the utensils, trays, and the Ferris wheel, and get everything ready for tomorrow. “Okay.”

  This time he ran the knuckle over the tip of her nose. “Great. It’s a date.”

  She shivered again.

  “Gage!” A woman ran up to the table. A really pretty woman.

  “Geen—what’s up? Have you met Lara?”

  Lara relaxed a little. Gina. Bryan’s cousin. If Gage had wanted her, he’d had years to make his move.

  “Nice to meet you.” Gina’s welcome was half-hearted at best. Ah, well, Lara was used to Mrs. Applebaum, so this was nothing. The client was always right. “Gage, we have a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  Gina glanced at Lara. “It’s um… Maybe we better talk about this in private.”

  Lara repeated her the customer is always right mantra and waved them away. “Go ahead. We can do the cake cutting whenever you want.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Gina dragged him away, and Lara couldn’t really complain. Gage looked as good going as… coming.

>   Yeah. It was really freaking hot out today.

  ***

  “What’s going on, Geen?” Gage hurried to keep up with her.

  “Tanner’s, um, indisposed.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “And?”

  “He’s not in any shape to perform.”

  “What do you mean he can’t perform?” Gage was already moving toward the house. Shit. He didn’t need this. Tonight was the grand opening of the new day spa he’d built for Gina, and her friends and clients were in BeefCake’s key client demographic. He’d been hoping to get some business out of tonight, but that wouldn’t happen if this gig went down badly.

  He strode through the kitchen, but stopped when he hit the hallway. “Where is he?”

  Gina pointed upstairs. “In the bathroom. It’s not pretty.”

  He’d seen Tanner in his costume numerous times. If Gina said it wasn’t pretty, something bad had happened.

  “Shit.” He took the stairs two at a time.

  Tanner was curled up on the bathroom floor, Carlo standing by looking helpless.

  “What happened?” Gage knelt over him.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling all that great lately and when I was getting ready I got a really sharp pain.” He clutched his abdomen. “I’m sweating like a stuck pig. I hope it’s not my appendix.”

  So did Gage. It’d put their best earning guy out of commission, and hell, Tanner was not a good patient. “Gina, call an ambulance.”

  “On its way. I’ll go wait for them.” She ran from the room.

  “Just relax, Tan. We’ll get you to the hospital and see what’s what.”

  “I’m sorry for letting you down, man.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. Just get better.”

  The front door opened and he heard the EMTs climb the stairs. Gage cleared out of the bathroom to give them room to work.

  “I can handle this by myself, boss,” said Carlo. “I’ll dance twice as long. Give them their money’s worth.”

  Gage shook his head. It figured, right? Normally, Bryan would be here. Gina was, after all, his cousin. He should’ve been the one to oversee it, but Gage had wanted to get close to Lara, so they’d traded. With Bry running security at the fiftieth birthday party (those middle-aged women tended to be a lot more grabby than he would have ever expected), it was up to Gage to fix this.