Fake It Till You Bake It Page 2

  She was watching Olivia, but she still didn’t look convinced. If he’d been in a more charitable mood, he would appreciate her stubbornness. He’d been labeled that more than once in his life. He owned it. Lots of people dreamed of becoming a pro football player. Few people made it happen. “My favorite is the chocolate chip chocolate swirl.”

  “Good for you. I’ll take the strawberry shortcake,” she replied with no hesitation.

  A woman who knew her own mind, something he always appreciated. Maybe he could be charitable after all.

  “Hard to mess that up,” she muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, he heard every word.

  Just like that, his appreciation disappeared like water from evaporated milk. But he could not, would not let her get to him. He consciously relaxed his jaw, then withdrew the dessert from the case and offered it up. “Good, safe choice.”

  Her brown eyes narrowed. But she reached for the treat without saying a word. Their fingers brushed. A spark of something electric, definitely pleasurable, zipped up his arm. What the…? He could not be attracted to the customer from hell. A quick flaring of her eyes was the only indication she’d felt it, too.

  “I hope you like it,” he said. If his voice sounded huskier than normal, well, no need to overanalyze things. Even though that was the exact opposite of how he usually handled situations. Which he would not think about right now.

  “What if I don’t?” she challenged.

  He blinked. He hadn’t considered that possibility because it made no sense, and everything he did made sense. “You will.”

  She arched one of those perfect eyebrows. “But if I don’t?”

  He rounded the counter, drawn to her despite himself. This close, her scent drifted toward him. Soft, floral, more alluring than his favorite smells from Sugar Blitz. “Then I will publicly admit my cupcakes are stale.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “That’s it? I’m gonna need more if I’m going to set aside my doubts and give your cupcakes an honest try.”

  He sighed. “Fine. I will also beg your forgiveness.”

  A grin played across her lips. “Beg, you say? I like the sound of that.”

  He ignored the way his blood thickened at the blatant flirtation. She was trying to distract him. And doing a damn good job of it. He couldn’t let her. “Too bad it’s not going to happen.”

  “We’ll see.” Her raspy chuckle sounded way too sexy to his sex-deprived self. A condition that was completely his own fault, as he’d put training for and playing football and then opening the cupcakery at the top of his priority list over the last six months.

  She raised the dessert to her perfect lips. He watched intently, and if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t just because he wanted to see how she would react to the cupcake. Her eyes drifted shut as she chewed slowly, like she was savoring all the dessert’s flavors. At least she didn’t spit it out. She went for another bite but got too close to the frosting. A streak of it ended up on her chin. And her nose. Her eyes flew open. “Crap!”

  “Careful,” he said. He didn’t mask the laughter in his voice. The frosting in no way marred the perfection of her face, even if she did now look the tiniest bit like a clown.

  She glared at him while swiping at the offending spot on her nose with her free hand.

  He grabbed a napkin off the counter. “Here.”

  “I’m fine.” She swiped again, spreading a trail of red cream across her chin.

  “You missed a spot.” Or two. “Take the napkin.”

  She snatched the napkin out of his hand and wiped her face. “Are you always this bossy?”

  “Yes.” He saw no reason to deny the truth.

  Humor sparked in her eyes. “Did I get it all?”

  After he nodded, she went back to delicately eating the cupcake. He should not be noticing how lush her lips were as she nibbled on the dessert. All he should care about, all he would care about, was her reaction to the cupcake. Her poker face gave nothing away.

  “So do you say ‘yes’ to the cupcake?” he asked when she was halfway done. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Do you want to marry it?”

  She froze. “I say it’s time for me to go.” She thrust the cupcake at him, forcing him to take it or end up with cake and frosting all over his shirt, then jerked her chin at Olivia. “Come on.”

  Without another word, Critic marched toward the door, moving like she was made to walk the runway, the jumpsuit hugging her swinging hips in the best way possible.

  “That means I won,” he called after her. He resolutely ignored the panic that had unexpectedly surged through his entire body at proof of her impending departure. He never panicked. About anything. Besides, he only had time to care about football and the store, and an attraction to a woman who talked smack about his cupcake shop was neither of those things.

  She halted, then spun to face him. “No, that means the cupcake was … decent.” The bougieness was back in full force. Her gaze swept the space. “The atmosphere, not so much.” She locked eyes with him. “I won’t be back.”

  “We both know you don’t mean that.” He saluted her with her abandoned cupcake and a wink because why the hell not? He’d obviously lost his damn mind. “See you next time.”

  The snick of the closing door was her only response.

  “Good going, boss,” Ella called out from behind him.

  Donovan groaned. Damn, he needed a cupcake.

  Chapter Two

  “Not a word,” Jada Townsend-Matthews said to her best friend, Olivia Madison, as she strode down the sidewalk away from the cupcake shop. And that guy with a stick up his ass.

  “I’m not going to say anything. I’m just going to enjoy the best cupcake I’ve had since the last time I stopped by Sugar Blitz.” Olivia took a bite of the dessert and stared hard at Jada.

  Jada’s shoulders hunched defensively. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  Olivia’s stare didn’t waver.

  “I mean I wasn’t trying to do anything.” Somehow, she just found herself in these situations.

  “No, you were speaking your mind like you always do.” Olivia grinned. “Which is one of the things I love most about you.”

  “Thanks.” She needed to hear that, especially now. Olivia was her ride or die, the one who stuck by her side no matter what. Jada’s mouth always got her into trouble. Always. One day she’d learn to control it. One day.

  “At least he didn’t know who you were,” Olivia added.

  Thank God for small favors. For a moment there, when he’d said “excuse me,” she thought she’d turn around to find a phone in her face, either so the guy could take a picture and post it to his social media app of choice or show her the most humiliating moment of her life, a clip she’d seen, oh, a million gazillion times over the last two weeks since it had first been broadcast to the world.

  Most people didn’t have their most embarrassing moments recorded by a professional camera crew, then aired on national TV and then replayed over and over and over on the internet. She wasn’t most people. Never had been. Never would be, apparently.

  “It’s not like I was lying,” she said. “The place was like a mausoleum. Cold and sterile.”

  “Girl, I don’t care what the place looks like.” Olivia saluted her with the treat she’d had the good sense not to get rid of on her way out of the store. “The cupcakes are amazing.”

  Jada shrugged, then took a deep breath. She needed to relax. Being home, close to the beach, basking in the fantastic San Diego weather and the cool breeze from the nearby ocean was supposed to accomplish that feat. So far, mission not accomplished.

  “More importantly, dude was fine,” Olivia added.

  Jada made a face. “Was he? I didn’t notice. Not with that stern high school principal vibe he was giving off.”

  “You didn’t notice those thick, hard thighs that could crack walnuts?”

  A vision of Cupcake Guy and his aforementioned thighs crystallized in her mind. Jada shook her head, doing her best to dislodge the image, and took the opportunity to study the oh-so-fascinating cracks in the sidewalk. “Nope.”

  “The wide, broad shoulders and biceps threatening to break the seams of his polo?”

  “Nope.” That was her story, and she was sticking to it like Ariana Grande did with her ponytail.

  “The scrumptious dark brown skin? The full lips? The deep, commanding voice?”

  Jada rolled her eyes. “You mean the lips that I’m pretty sure are permanently pressed tight in disapproval? The how-dare-you-not-agree-with-everything-I-say voice?”

  Her BFF snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, okay.” Olivia’s second snort morphed into laughter. “You called the man’s cupcakes stale,” she said through her cackling.

  Jada’s nose lifted. “I said they were decent.” They were actually fantastic, not that she’d admit that out loud in a million years, especially not to him. Granted, she’d never see him again, but still it was important to take a metaphorical stand. See you next time, he’d said in that deep, commanding voice she’d just told Olivia she didn’t think was deep and commanding.

  “After you called them stale,” Olivia corrected.

  Jada tried not to squirm. “I mean … well … it’s not like they were his cupcakes. He was toeing the company line.”

  Olivia scrunched her nose in reluctant disagreement. “No, I’m pretty sure he’s the owner. One of them, anyway.”

  Oh. Oops. Her inability to keep her thoughts to herself had bitten her in the ass yet again. And she knew exactly who to blame. “You know, this is all your fault.”

  “What?” Olivia threw her hands up in the air, then cried out as her cupcake went flying. She made an impressive acrobatic dive to stop it from meeting an unfortunate end on the pavement
. She landed in a crouch, saving the dessert a split second before catastrophe struck, cradled it in her palms, and rose back to her full height with a dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you for almost making me lose my cupcake.” Her voice rose. “And how is it my fault?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Something about how you can’t hide out for the rest of your life, Jada,” Jada answered in a singsongy tone. “Let’s go to your favorite store, Jada. Why don’t we stop in for a snack, Jada? Be the badass I know you are, Jada.”

  Olivia side-eyed her. “I meant every word. Admit it. You were miserable staying cooped up in your condo.”

  True. She’d always been social. Loved being around other people. Except now she’d become public enemy number one.

  “Besides, you’re the one who went all Joanna Gaines on the shop,” Olivia continued. Ride or die did not mean not keeping it real.

  “I was just talking. I didn’t think anyone was paying attention to us. There was no one paying attention to us.” Except the finest man she’d seen in forever. Wait. No. “He winked at me. Who does that?”

  “I think he was being cheeky.”

  Jada squinted at Olivia. “Cheeky? Are you British now?”

  “Must be all those episodes of Doctor Who and Great British Bake Off.” Olivia swung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Sorry he brought up marriage.”

  The sorest of subjects. Turning down a marriage proposal on national TV was how she’d ended up in this mess, although to be honest, messes were her specialty. She blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, he didn’t know he was stepping into it.”

  Olivia took one last bite, then dumped the empty cupcake wrapper in a trash can. “Come on. We still haven’t hit up the store.”

  “Now you’re talking my language.” Jada’s step quickened. She loved retail therapy. Her favorite boutique, Perfection, was directly up ahead. She would not think about how that also meant it was right around the corner from that dude’s cupcake store.

  All thoughts of failed marriage proposals, cupcakes that weren’t actually stale, and uptight, hella attractive cupcake shop owners who thought they knew everything fled her mind as soon as they entered Perfection.

  Jada immediately zeroed in on a display at the center of the room. “Oooh.”

  Purple, her favorite color. She hurried over. She’d seen the dress with its long flowing sleeves and plunging neckline on a New York Fashion Week runway and had counted down the days until she could make it hers. Today was the day. Maybe her luck was starting to change. She didn’t check the price tag. What was the point? That’s what credit cards were for. Besides, when you were sad, you deserved whatever you wanted. Duh. Not that was she going to be able to fall back on that logic for much longer. Which she was not going to think about right now.

  She quickly found her size and grabbed the hanger off the rack. “Mine. All mine. What do you think?”

  “I approve.” Olivia held up a cute green A-line skirt from a nearby rack. “I’m going to try this on.”

  Jada nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back there in a minute. I want to look around a little more first.”

  While Olivia headed to the dressing room at the back of the store, Jada moved on to another display, where a pretty shirt was calling her name. This store really was her happy place.

  “Jada!” A salesperson hurried up to her. The tall woman wore a cute wrap dress Jada recognized as one of the boutique’s offerings because it also resided in her closet at home. The dress looked amazing on the saleswoman’s lithe body. Man, what she wouldn’t give for a few more inches to her frame. She loved her heels, but actual height would have been better.

  Jada gave a quick wave. “Hey, Carrie.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Good.” She injected some hearty, fake cheer into her voice. While she appreciated the concern in the brunette’s eyes, she didn’t do well with pity. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

  Carrie nodded. “Great. Can I help you find anything?”

  “No, I’m just looking, thanks.”

  “Well, let me know if I can be of assistance.”

  Jada’s shoulders relaxed. “Will do.”

  Carrie nodded, then retreated to the cash register.

  Jada returned her attention to the mannequin. The silk turquoise top would look amazing with her favorite silver heels and jeans. This shopping expedition was exactly what the doctor—or, in this case, the BFF—ordered. She’d have to buy Olivia a cupcake. But not from Sugar Blitz.

  “Is that her?” someone behind her whispered. Jada’s hand tightened on the shirt sleeve, crumpling the thin fabric. She had no doubt she was the “her” the woman was talking about.

  “Yeah, that’s her,” someone else replied. Disgust infused the quick response.

  Jada’s heart thudded. Had what she’d done been so bad? According to Twitter, Instagram, various podcasts, and that old fave, Facebook, the answer was a resounding yes.

  She should have slipped on her sunglasses before leaving the house. Even if they’d still recognized her, she could have used the extra layer of protection the Dior eyewear would have given her.

  She had no doubt what was about to happen. What had happened every time she stepped foot out of her residence since the My One and Only season finale aired—well, until she finally gave up and stayed inside. She quickly deposited the dress she’d been so excited about on the nearest rack and scanned the store for Olivia. Damn it, she was nowhere to be found. Where the hell had her friend gone? Oh, that’s right. She was trying on that skirt Jada no longer considered cute.

  Still, she had to get out of here. She’d call Olivia from her car and come back to pick her up.

  Jada made a beeline for the door. A woman stepped directly into her path before she got far. Only Jada’s quick reflexes stopped her from plowing into the interloper.

  “How could you do that to Dr. John?” the woman spat, bending down because she, too, was taller than Jada. Jada recognized her voice. The first woman to spot her. Her glare practically singed Jada’s eyebrows.

  Jada whirled. The other woman, whose skin was a shade of orange found only in tanning booths, was waiting. “He was the perfect guy, and you broke his heart!”

  “Well, umm … I gotta go.” She made another move toward the door, but the Darth Avengers weren’t interested in letting her go. They crowded in on her. Jada automatically took a step backward, then stopped herself from taking another. She wouldn’t let them intimidate her.

  “What were you thinking?” Darth Avenger One asked.

  “It’s a blur, sir. Err, ma’am.”

  “What?” The avenger’s face screwed up in confusion.

  Jada waved her hand. “Sorry. Lyric from Hamilton.”

  Wrong. Thing. To. Say.

  Jada had heard the term “spitting fire” before. She’d never witnessed it in person until this moment. Darth Avenger One’s green eyes bulged, while her pale skin mottled with red blotches. “Really? Is everything a joke to you?”

  Yeah, usually. That’s how she got through life’s disappointments and feeling like the ultimate disappointment to her brilliant parents.

  Jada tried to dodge around the woman, but anger apparently gave a person the moves of a professional athlete who got paid to play defense, not offense. She blocked Jada’s every maneuver. “Was it all a game to you?”

  A game? No. A chance to have some fun and not think about her future? Yes. Until it all went to hell in a handbasket. Hell in a handbasket? What was up with that phrase anyway?

  “You’re a heartless bitch,” Darth Avenger Two said with a derisive sniff.

  Jada flinched, the insult punching her square in the gut and leaving her breathless. Showing emotion was the last thing she should do in this situation, but damn it, she was only human. A flawed, often aggravating human, according to her loved ones, but human, nevertheless. Words did hurt. Of course, her detractors would point out that actions hurt worse.

  “Excuse me. Can I help you ladies with anything?” Carrie stepped beside Jada.

  Jada took the lifeline. “No, I was just leaving.”