Free Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) by Jamie Farrell Page A

fires me from Heaven’s Bakery, your profits there will sink to nothing . Because I am the cake. I am the buttercream. I am the magic. And you know it, or you wouldn’t want my recipes. Take your ten grand and shove it—shove it—shove it where your piping bag won’t reach!”
    Her chest rose and fell rapidly under the horrifically bright T-shirt. Being fascinated by a nice pair of breasts wasn’t unusual, but even noticing that Kimmie Elias had breasts was odd.
    Everything about the last ten minutes was odd. Uncomfortable. Wrong.
    “Why lemon chiffon?” he said suddenly.
    He waited for her to rattle off another crazy dream. Or tell him her mother would loop her fruits if she had given him chocolate birthday cupcakes instead.
    But she stared at him with a straightforward, clear, Kimmie -ish look. Her light brows scrunched, and she sucked half her lower lip into her mouth. Her skin was more than smooth—it looked remarkably soft. Clean. Firm. Glowing. Except for the smear of frosting, which gave her a refreshing innocence. Should’ve been impossible when paired with the trench coat, but Kimmie pulled it off.
    “Lemon chiffon fit you.” She sidestepped him. “Anyway, this has been fun. Happy birthday, Josh. Many happy returns.”
    She turned and walked down the carpeted hallway to the elevator. And it wasn’t until the doors swished shut behind her that he realized she hadn’t actually asked him for anything.
    She’d simply brought him birthday cupcakes.
    Had he started the sweetheart ploy again?
    Or had she?
    He couldn’t remember.
    But he’d offered her ten grand for her cupcake recipes before she’d said a word about Heaven’s Bakery.
    He knew she was here on a mission from her mother. The two of them were in this together.
    But she hadn’t once mentioned it. Instead, she’d wished him happy birthday, and she’d left.
    As if she truly had come because she liked him and because she simply wanted to give him birthday cupcakes.
    He wasn’t fond of being the ass in the relationship. That was something he’d have to work on.
    But first, he had to go lie to his parents about the relationship actually existing.
    Whatever it took to save their business.
----
    I t was almost ten p.m. before the familiar, hundred-foot-high, glowing wedding cake statue came into view on the dark horizon, welcoming Kimmie back to the comfortable land of her reality. To where cupcakes and fondant rollers and buttercream awaited her. Cake didn’t say one thing and mean another.
    Things with Josh probably could’ve gone better, but they hadn’t gone as poorly as she’d feared they would. He’d actually stood outside his condo with her, alone , and talked to her for a whole conversation. He hadn’t kissed her again without an audience, but he hadn’t laughed at her dreams, and she’d thought, for three terrifying seconds, that he was actually interested in what was under her trench coat.
    Maybe General Mom was right.
    Maybe she could do this.
    He hadn’t corrected the rumors that they were dating. Even to his parents .
    Did he really want her cupcake recipes that badly? And why ?
    Or were the cupcakes a ruse, and he really liked her ?
    Her stomach dipped.
    That would be weird. And Kimmie knew weird.
    Thank the cupcake gods, she was almost home. She and her piping bags understood each other. Cake never messed with her head. And melted chocolate was forthcoming about the temperatures it would withstand, and what it would and wouldn’t do for a girl.
    No crazy, pulse-limit-testing, tension-filled, butterflies-in-her-stomach-inducing kisses and false promise-filled gazes awaited her here.
    Here, she could be comfortable and happy. As long as she ignored the shadow of the hill beyond the statue where her mother’s neighborhood was.
    She winced. She’d channeled her mother at Josh’s condo.
    Not just a little, either.
    I am Bliss , she’d heard her mother say countless times. I am Bliss. I am the Knot Festival. I am the