Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,31

finally asks, pulling me out of my thoughts, and it’s only then I realize my cheeks are wet with tears. Wiping at them, I force myself to look up at him.

“I just want to go home,” I croak. “Before I do something to end up in jail… again.”

He points over my shoulder. “Hank’s truck is over there. I can drive you home and come back and get him.”

Biting down on my lip, I close my eyes, willing myself to hold it together, just a little while longer. “You don’t have to do that… you’ve already helped me out once.”

“We’re friends, right?” he asks and there’s sincerity in his words I didn’t expect. “Let me take you home. I’d much rather do that than have to bail you out of jail.”

That gets him a laugh, but then I stop, frowning. “You just met me. Why are you being so nice?” I ask, immediately wary of his intentions. Also, he needs to know I’m not good company these days. “I’m crazy, you know? That’s what they all say about me. If you’re seen with me, people will probably think you’re crazy too.”

He shrugs. “I like to form my own opinions,” he says, crossing his large arms over his chest. “And you let me worry about what people think about me.”

There’s nothing but pure honesty in his eyes, so I take him at his word and up on his offer. When I turn in the direction he’d pointed earlier, he slowly begins to follow me. “Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, still feeling on the verge of tears and not trusting my voice.

“Okay.” He sighs and I realize this isn’t going to be a quiet trip home. Cage is going to make me pay in conversation. “Well, I did want to tell you that the muffins you gave me the other day were… well,” he pauses, letting out a breath. “By far the best fucking muffins I’ve ever eaten.”

I fight back the smile as it works its way to the surface, replacing the tears.

“Glad you liked them,” I mumble.

“What’s with the names?” he asks as we approach a truck and he jumps in front of me to open the passenger door. When I climb into the seat, a sudden rush of recognition hits me. This is the same truck he drove me home in. The smell of the cab is familiar and I remember leaning my head over onto the window, soaking in the coolness of the glass.

“I like old country western music,” I tell him when he gets in on the driver’s side. “Patsy Cline, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty—if it’s got a steel guitar and a sad story, I’m a fan.”

Cage chuckles, and for a second I think he’s making fun of me, which would be nothing new and I really don’t care. I’ve been defending my taste of music for twenty years. I remember on my eighth birthday, I invited a few girls from my third grade class over for a slumber party and when I put a Loretta Lynn album on my turntable, they all thought I was weird.

That label stuck for a while, basically until I started dating Asher in the tenth grade.

“I love it,” Cage says, setting me at ease. “Hope you’ll make some Folsom Prison Blues again sometime,” he says, turning out of the field onto the road. “I’ve heard those are a hit.”

Smirking, I turn in the seat to face him. “Do you even know any country western music?”

He shrugs. “I guess I probably don’t know much, but doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m a fan of whatever music fits my mood. Doesn’t matter if it’s rap or heavy metal or country. It’s about how it makes me feel.”

I nod, considering his reply. “I can respect that.”

The smile he throws me over his shoulder is… well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting, that’s all I’ve got to say. If Cage Erickson and I are going to be friends, I’m going to have to work really hard at keeping my feelings in check.

As we drive down the road, I try to not look at him, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

Friends.

Yeah, I could do this.

I need one right now.

And look at me, driving away before I let Asher and Mindy get the best of me… being the bigger person, removing myself from the situation. Go, Tempest. I mentally fist bump myself and steal another glance at Cage… my new friend. Having