Making Whoopie - Erin Nicholas Page 0,3

not want Maggie to overhear that.

“What’s going on?” Jane asked. Though she did lower her voice.

“Nothing. I’m just… full.”

That would make sense. She had just eaten cake and coffee before coming over, and that should definitely mean she was full. Of course, her body didn’t work that way. She had a crazy-fast metabolism, which sounded like a blessing, and most of her girlfriends assured her that it was, but was actually a pain in the ass. She was hungry all the time.

Still, it did help since her career was making cakes—and pies and cookies and everything in between—and she really liked sweets. Being around sugar all day made it difficult to resist, and the stuff she and Zoe did with sugar was amazing, if she did say so herself.

“You’re just full,” Zoe said in a very yeah-right tone. “What’s really going on?”

“I’m just in a weird mood.” Josie flipped her hand as if to wave it all away as no big deal.

She really needed them to drop it. At least as long as Grant was around. She had no qualms telling her girlfriends that she was all mixed up about Grant. She was pretty sure they suspected it anyway. But no way was she admitting it to him. Or his friends.

She had been stoically avoiding looking at him since she realized she was fantasizing about him and root vegetables, but now she sneaked a glance.

Surprise and heat arrowed through her when she found his eyes on her.

He was watching her as if he knew exactly what was going on. Which was crazy. How could he know? They hadn’t even talked about the weather. How would he know that she was borderline obsessed with him?

She frowned. Maybe this happened a lot. Maybe women became obsessed with him all the time. The dark good looks, the air of indifference, the money, the suits, the smooth sophistication. Sure, those could do it. Some women might even overlook the hot-water-and-lemon thing.

Dark good looks made some things easier to overlook for sure.

“So I’m just going to go,” Josie said, scooting her chair back and standing.

It seemed imperative, suddenly, that she get out of here.

“You really think you’re just going to get away with acting weird and leaving?” Zoe asked. “Really?”

Josie gripped the back of her chair and pressed her lips together. She looked from Zoe to Jane. Then to Grant. She lingered there. Then looked at Zoe again. Josie shook her head. “No, I know you’re not going to let it go, but for now, it would be great if you’d just… give me some space.”

Zoe’s eyebrows went up again, but her look didn’t say you’re-full-of-shit. She looked concerned. “Just tell me you really are okay. Like mostly, generally, for the most part, okay.”

“I am,” Josie promised. “It’s just… weird. You’re going to think it’s super weird when I tell you, I promise.”

“You’re going to tell me too,” Jane interjected. “For sure.”

Josie nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Will we need wine?” Jane asked.

“Spiked lemonade,” Josie said. “Lots of spiked lemonade.”

“Got it,” Jane said.

For the three of them “spiked lemonade” generally meant there was a family issue or a guy issue they needed to talk about. Otherwise they stuck with the mellow, happy effects of wine. Spiked lemonade was for the serious stuff that needed numbing or the tearing down of inhibitions or both.

“’Night, everyone,” Josie said, looking around the table. She saved Grant for last.

She didn’t know him. He wasn’t a friend or a member of her friends-that-were-family family. He was a friend of a friend—two of them actually—so that meant that he had potential to be a part of that family though. Eventually.

And she was really going to have to figure out how to not have dirty thoughts about him when they were doing the simple family stuff with the rest of these nice people. Especially if, God forbid, he ever brought a date.

She shuddered. Then rolled her eyes at herself. She was jealous of a possible future date of the guy who wasn’t her type and who didn’t even like her cupcakes?

Everyone liked her cupcakes.

She couldn’t date a guy who didn’t like her cupcakes.

That would be like a… painter who dated a guy who didn’t love art. Or woman running a dog rescue who dated a guy who hated dogs.

No, actually, no one should date someone who hated dogs. That was just wrong on every level.

Still, she couldn’t date a guy who didn’t swoon over her cupcakes. Period.

Grant Lorre only bought muffins and scones. Those were Zoe’s

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