Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,43
would’ve taken advice from Merle and left me before he decided to fuck Mindy Mitchell.
On more than one occasion, I’ve asked Asher how long… How long was he with her before I walked in on them? How long did he know he no longer loved me? Was it before or after the miscarriage? Was that the deciding factor… Did it make him feel like as much of a failure as it did me? Those are some of the burning questions he’s yet to answer.
Maybe I’m a masochist for wanting to know, but I do.
After the whole bedroom incident and that first trip to jail, one of the first things I did—after changing the locks to the house and burning the sheets and my fluffy, white comforter—was go to my doctor and order an entire panel of tests. I knew I wasn’t pregnant, so that was never a concern, seeing as I never got a chance to find out if that little window of fertility was working. But more than anything, I was freaked out. I know Mindy’s past and her reputation. I needed to make sure Asher, and Mindy by proxy, hadn’t given me any STDs.
I shiver at the thought.
Fortunately, everything came back fine. But it still didn’t set my mind at ease.
For the first couple months, the mere idea of sex made my stomach roll. And I briefly thought he’d ruined it for me forever, but thanks to Cage and his ridiculous amounts of pheromones and testosterone, I know that’s not the truth. He makes me feel things I thought were dead and gone, kind of like Merle.
Just friends, I remind myself.
Don’t screw this up, Tempest.
When my mind finally shut up last night, and I quit second-guessing and over-analyzing, I eventually fell into the best sleep I’ve had in months. My body was deliciously spent and I didn’t feel like punching anyone or burning anything. It was the most peaceful I’ve felt in the last five months, since my life got turned upside down.
After I have a few batches of On the Fightin’ Side of Me done, I start on some Ring of Fires. Those sold really well last week. We also have some late-season cherries that need to be used up, so I pull those out.
As I go about the kitchen—measuring, mixing, pouring, baking—I let my mind be free, dreaming up something creative to use the cherries for, when an idea comes to mind. Running to the pantry, I pull out all the ingredients I’ll need.
I’ve always thought a nice addition to a traditional Texas Sheet Cake are cherries.
The flavors are very complimentary.
Going Through the Big D also comes to mind. It’s perfect—the story of my life mixed with where Cage is from. I smirk to myself as I think about it a little more. In an odd way, Cage and I are a good fit. He seems to get me and I like myself when I’m around him. Even if he does ruffle my feathers, he makes me feel confident. I like it. It’s so much better than feeling sorry for myself.
Mark Chesnutt isn’t as old school as I normally go, but it’ll fit this recipe well and look great on the menu board.
When the muffins are cooled, I pour ganache over each one and top them with cherries. Setting four of them off to the side and putting them in a box, I make up my mind to visit Cage later. They’ll be my I’m-sorry-I-almost-kissed-you-and-ran-away-like-a-loon and thank-you-for-teaching-me-kickboxing muffins. Thankfully, I don’t need to fit all of that on the chalkboard sign.
By mid-morning, most of the muffins are gone, making me glad I set some aside for Cage. I’m placing the last dozen into the display case when the bell above the door chimes and a familiar face walks in, making me cringe.
Stella Wilson.
She’s Mindy Mitchell’s right-hand girl, always has been. Everywhere Mindy went, and I do mean everywhere, there Stella would be as well. It was like it’d been sent down to Moses on the Mount, along with the Ten Commandments. So, her showing up here this morning, although a public place and the most popular bakery in a fifty-mile radius, it still puts me on edge.
“Welcome to Donner Bakery,” I greet, wishing I wasn’t up here all alone and I could hide away in the back, but everyone else is busy with other customers or doing something else, so it’s just me… and Stella. “What can I get you?”