Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(10)

My apartment had a small kitchenette lining one wall, which I pretty much only used to make coffee in the mornings, a light gray L-shaped couch facing the TV I'd mounted on the far wall, and my king-size bed hidden behind a half wall partition that gave me the illusion of privacy. Past that was the bathroom.

I'd chosen to forgo a table in the kitchenette because it was one more obstacle for Joss to get around, and we always ate on the couch anyway.

"You're the cleanest twenty-three-year-old man I've ever met," she said as she lifted herself out of the chair and onto the couch. Bracing her weight on her arms, she scooted back until she could pull the handle that lifted the reclining footrest. Nero stretched out, shoving his head against her thigh.

It wasn't necessary for me to look around because I knew nothing was on the floor. No piles of clothes and no shoes tossed in the general area of where I slept.

I opened my mouth to make a flippant comment, but I took a second to watch her face first. Joss probably said it without expecting a reply, so she wasn't even really looking at me. I must have been quiet long enough that she noticed. Her eyes lifted to my face.

"I'd never do anything that makes it hard for you to be here," I said.

Joss blinked in surprise.

My face felt like it was heating, so I cleared my throat and walked to the fridge. "Need anything to drink?"

"Uhh, sure. What do you have?"

Surveying the contents of the fridge, I grimaced. "Water, purple Gatorade, and a beer."

Before she could answer, her phone rang. "It's Sylvia," she said before picking it up.

Mentally, I waved goodbye to my time alone with her. If Sylvia was calling, she and my brother were probably at the house, saw my car, and my brother was kind enough to not barge in on us, allowing his fiancée to call and give us a heads-up.

He knew what Joss was to me. So did my parents. I finally admitted it after I turned twenty, and they were giving me shit about how, without my cousin Grady from California still holding out as well, I'd be the first to prove five generations of Buchanan men wrong. Grady's twin, Grace, was single too, but considering she was the first Buchanan woman born in those five generations, none of us were quite sure if it worked the same.

"Hey," Joss said into the phone. She smiled and jerked her head toward the main house. I rolled my eyes, which made her smile even more. "Yeah, we're out here. I just got done at work."

On the other end of the line, Sylvia said something, then Joss hung up and tossed the phone onto the empty cushion next to her. "They're coming out."

"Of course they are," I mumbled.

"Don't be an ass. I like Sylvia." She pointed a finger at me when I flopped onto the couch on the other side of Nero. He lifted his head and looked over at me before stretching his back legs out into my space.

"I like Sylvia too," I told her, smoothing my hand over his sleekly muscled flank. He pushed his paw into my leg, his way of asking for more.

"Good, as she's about to become your sister-in-law."

"You never know. Connor has six weeks to change his mind. Maybe he'll back out."

Our eyes met, and she started laughing. We both knew that would never happen. I had to swallow roughly for a second because, at times like this, I felt like I was keeping a huge secret from Joss. I'd never told her about the Buchanan curse. Because if I told her that …

There was a knock on the door before Connor walked in, trailed by his fiancée.

Nero lifted his head, and his tall, stick-straight ears and bright amber eyes trained in their direction made Connor pause. "Why does your dog always look like he wants to eat me?"

Joss scratched under Nero's chin. "This little marshmallow?"

Connor grimaced. Sylvia rolled her eyes, tucking her arm around my brother's waist.

Because it was impossible not to mess with him, I patted Nero's rump. "Smile, Nero."

He bared his big, sharp, white teeth in a terrifying doggy grin, and Connor blanched.

Joss stifled a laugh, leaning down to drop a kiss on the end of Nero's shiny black nose.

Edging around the couch like Nero might lunge at him, Connor took a seat in the recliner opposite the couch and patted his lap for Sylvia to join him. She settled in, tossing her legs over his lap and giving him a quick kiss before facing us again.

"So it went well today?" Sylvia asked Joss.

She nodded. "Yeah. My co-worker was a little … extroverted, but she was nice. Customers were fine. I got to try one of their recipes. I'm more excited about that part than the people-ing."

We all laughed.

"My grumpy little introvert," I teased. "We're so fortunate you don't hate people-ing around us."

Joss glared at me, but it wasn't serious. "People-ing only counts as people-ing when it's someone new, or you're trying to impress them, or they're trying to get to know you or something."

We all knew what she meant. Joss was comfortable with us. We weren't strangers who were going to approach her and ask her right off the bat why she was in a wheelchair—which happened all the time—or force her into small talk that I knew was painful for her.

But what made me swallow around the sticky sand in my throat was the tossed-out reminder that she lumped me into the same category as my brother and his fiancée.