Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,1

tight with Sheriff James, I’ve never been one to make a scene or abuse my privileges.

When I approach my house, I note that Asher’s truck is still in the driveway, right where it was when I left a couple hours ago. If I’m lucky, he’s still in bed and I can wake him up with a nice surprise to get things cooking. His morning wood will be working in my favor this morning. He’s always been frisky when he first wakes up and finds it annoying that my first thought has always been coffee instead of sex.

Well, Asher Williams, today is your lucky day.

As I’m unlocking the front door, a wicked thought comes to mind and I start shedding my clothes before I’ve even approached the landing of the stairs that lead to our bedroom. Sex and orgasms and sperm making their way to an egg are my only thoughts as I balance against the doorway of our room, just long enough to kick off my shoes.

And I freeze.

Curled up in my bed—in my fluffy white comforter I picked out at Dillard’s on my last shopping trip with my mama in Nashville and my most-favorite one thousand thread count sheets—is my husband of eight years, sleeping soundly… and right beside him is another head of brown hair that looks suspiciously like Mindy Mitchell.

Been around the block more times than the ice cream truck on a hot July day… Mindy Mitchell.

Screwed the entire football team back in 2009… Mindy Mitchell.

Naked as the day she was born and curled up next to my husband… Mindy Mitchell.

Standing in the middle of my bedroom in my bra and unzipped jeans with one shoe on and the other in my hand, I feel something snap on a cellular level.

I’ve always been a relatively calm person.

But in this moment, as red clouds my vision, consuming my mind, I lose control over everything.

I feel as if I’m hovering above my body, watching it all play out like a scene from a movie.

The shoe in my hand flies across the room, making direct contact with Asher’s head, waking him abruptly. When his eyes meet mine, he looks sleepy and confused. Then he turns to look at the sleeping body beside him. I watch as everything registers, just how bad this is. His eyes grow wide and his mouth gapes like a fish as he scrambles for words—an excuse, a plea, an apology? I don’t know, but I don’t allow him the luxury of figuring it out.

Blindly, I begin to grasp for something… anything. Whatever my hands find becomes my next weapon as I begin launching objects across the room. Anything I can lift becomes airborne.

Glass breaks, things shatter into a million pieces—picture frames, the vase my mama bought us for our wedding flowers, the lamp on the dresser… my heart, my past, my present, my future.

Everything splinters into a before and after.

My throat burns and it’s then I realize I’ve been screaming. Coughing, I brace my hands on my knees and try to take a breath, but it gets lodged in my throat on a sob.

“Tempest!” Asher yells, taking advantage of the pause in action to get off the bed. Hands raised, he looks at me like I’m a stranger, not his wife of eight fucking years. “Get a damn grip on yourself. What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

A harsh bark comes out—deep from the pit of my stomach. “Me?” I yell back. “I think the better question, Asher Williams, is have you lost your goddamn mind? What is she doing here? What have you done?” I scream. My voice sounding foreign, like it’s sourced from the pits of hell—torn and feral. “How could you do this?”

“I can explain—”

I don’t let him finish that sentence, instead, I pull a dresser drawer open and start throwing clothes at him. “Get dressed and get the hell out of my house!”

“Em,” he says, pleading as he eases toward me like I’m a caged animal. Maybe I am, because right now I feel like I could chew off his right arm and shove it up his ass… and then… I finally allow myself to look over at Mindy who’s standing on the other side of the bed with the sheet covering her naked body.

My fucking sheets.

My fucking husband.

“You,” I say, voice trembling as I redirect my ire. I begin to take a step toward her, but Asher tries to intercept, so I turn back to him. “Get. Out.” It’s