looked at the back door. She could… go for a run. If she was a runner. But she wasn’t. At all.
Damn. She had no idea what to do.
Her sister had a yoga class at five thirty every morning. Maybe she’d do that. She could definitely use some more deep breathing and centering and calming.
She could also use someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t in love with one of Grant’s best friends and who wouldn’t freak out about Josie marrying him for health insurance and who wouldn’t freak out about her having her gall bladder removed in Chicago and who wouldn’t be upset with her for baking on the side and… all of the other secrets she’d been keeping.
Paige didn’t freak out about things. She was the calmest person Josie knew. She was the calmest person most people knew.
Yeah, Josie wanted to talk to her sister.
And play with some kittens. She grabbed her keys and started for the door.
But just as she was pulling it open, she heard footsteps thundering down the staircase from the second level.
Grant was definitely not floating downstairs this morning.
She sighed and turned.
“You’re still here. Thank God,” he said. He looked like he’d vaulted out of bed. He was still wearing only his boxers. His hair was mussed, one side sticking straight up. He had stubble darkening his jaw, and he looked slightly dazed as if he’d just been jolted awake.
“I was just leaving.”
He glanced at the center island. Right at the papers that he’d clearly left there last night.
“Don’t worry. I signed.”
“You did?” His eyes lit up slightly. “So you like the idea?”
Did she like the idea of getting divorced? No. Not even a tiny bit. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that to him. She wanted to have a little dignity here, didn’t she? A little pride?
But she frowned and shook her head. “No, Grant. I don’t like the idea. But it’s what we agreed to, and if it’s what you want I’m not going to fight you.”
He frowned. “It’s what we agreed to? What do you mean?”
“We both knew that the marriage was temporary. We agreed that it was for the insurance. Now that the bills are all paid, there’s no reason to stay married.”
His frown cleared, and he shoved a hand through his hair. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That. What did you think I was talking about?”
“The agreement with Hot Cakes. To make our new snack cake,” he said. “I wanted to go over that with you before you went to the bakery because I know you probably wouldn’t be comfortable talking about it there. And I’d love to get that ball rolling today.”
She propped a hand on her hip. “What ball rolling?”
“We want you to develop our new snack cake,” he said again.
“I got that part. I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I? I work for Buttered Up. I know things are a lot better between the two families, but I can’t develop a new cake for another company without talking to Zoe. And if someone is going to do that, shouldn’t it be her?”
“No, you need to do this. You deserve this,” Grant said, taking a step toward her.
“Deserve this?” she repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“You deserve the ten thousand dollars that comes with it. And the monthly royalty payment as long as the cake is a part of our product line. Which, considering the company has never added or removed any other product, will be for a very long time.”
She frowned and turned to face him more fully.
He took another step closer. “You also deserve the recognition of having one of your cakes produced a million times over, sold to hundreds of thousands of people.”
“I… don’t want that.” But her heart was beating hard. What was that?
She didn’t want to do work for Hot Cakes. She didn’t share Zoe’s long-held belief that Hot Cakes and the Lancaster family were inherently evil—and, of course, Zoe’s feelings about the company and the family had changed recently as she’d let go of the three-generation old grudge she’d been holding on behalf of her grandmother—but Josie did believe that what she and Zoe did at Buttered Up was different, and yes, better on some levels. It was more personal. It was more special. They created from scratch, by hand, and with the people of Appleby in mind. They didn’t mass produce cakes that would sit on grocery and convenience store shelves for strangers to grab without even giving it a