Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(76)

It’s kind of like a pot of water. If you watch it, it’ll never boil, or turn blue… or say YES. Whatever.

One, two, three, four … pivot … one, two, three, four … pivot … one, two, three—

“Em?”

“Two more minutes,” I call back through the closed door, biting at the cuticle on my thumbnail.

“I’m sending all the good juju your way,” Jenn replies and I can hear the smile in her voice.

It’s no secret I’m trying to get pregnant.

My husband, Asher, and I have been trying for quite a while, but I had a miscarriage six months ago, so this is the first cycle we’ll be actively trying to conceive again. My hands are starting to sweat a little as I continue to pace.

I want a baby so badly—more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

I’ve done all the tricks. Pomegranate juice is my new drink du jour. It’s supposed to increase blood flow to the uterus. Prenatal vitamins are my new best friend. I kicked my coffee habit, which was no small feat, and I’m completely avoiding alcohol. Of course, I exercise and eat healthy. Not to mention, there aren’t a pair of tighty whities to be seen in my house.

Asher is freeballing twenty-four-seven.

“Any results yet?” Jenn’s voice startles me this time. I assumed she’d be back to baking. There are over a dozen custom cake orders and she is the queen… the Banana Cake Queen and absolute ruler of Donner Bakery. She and I are often the only workers this early in the morning at the newer location, downtown Green Valley. It’s a satellite location, but fully equipped with the best kitchen equipment available. I love it here. I love the original location too, but this place is a bit less hectic and allows me time to feel inspired and create.

Glancing over at the stick, I notice the screen is still flashing, which means it’s still thinking… or testing… or whatever the little contraption does. It’s kind of inconvenient taking this at work, but when you have to report to your place of employment before the butt-crack of dawn, you make it work.

“Not yet,” I call back, opening the door to see Jenn standing there with a bright smile and violet-blue eyes staring back at me, hopeful.

She peeks around my shoulder and then steps back, a sly smile creeping up on her beautiful face. “Looks like someone’s gonna need an early lunch.”

“What?” I ask, whipping my head around. My heart chooses that time to kick into an even higher gear, skipping a beat on its way to overdrive—blood pumping so fast, I feel a little woozy. The smiley face blinking back at me brings immediate tears to my eyes.

“I’m ovulating,” I whisper, to myself… to Jenn… to the universe as a silent prayer of thanks.

“Yep,” Jenn says with an even wider smile and a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Asher works from home today,” I add absentmindedly as I think out loud and try to get my head on straight. My ovulation is a bit unpredictable, so I have to act fast. “I’ve already prepped the batter for the Muffin of the Day—Back in Baby’s Arms. The Sweet Dreams and Tennessee Waltzes are already in the oven. South of the Borders are on deck,” I gush out, grabbing the test and tossing the test strip. It’s been a Patsy Cline kind of week, what can I say? Waving the still-blinking smiley face at Jenn, I finally take a breath. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

I’m already halfway out the back door when Jenn calls out, “Take your time! Oh, and make sure you have an orgasm! I heard that helps!”

Laughing to myself, I jump in my car and start it up as another rush of excitement floods my body.

We’re gonna make a baby.

Driving as fast as I can without drawing the attention of local law enforcement, I make my way across town. Even though I’m in a hurry, I still abide by the laws. I’m looking to get knocked-up not booked-up in the county jail. Although my daddy is the local bail bondsman and he’s in pretty tight with Sheriff James, I’ve never been one to make a scene or abuse my privileges.

When I approach my house, I note that Asher’s truck is still in the driveway, right where it was when I left a couple hours ago. If I’m lucky, he’s still in bed and I can wake him up with a nice surprise to get things cooking. His morning wood will be working in my favor this morning. He’s always been frisky when he first wakes up and finds it annoying that my first thought has always been coffee instead of sex.

Well, Asher Williams, today is your lucky day.

As I’m unlocking the front door, a wicked thought comes to mind and I start shedding my clothes before I’ve even approached the landing of the stairs that lead to our bedroom. Sex and orgasms and sperm making their way to an egg are my only thoughts as I balance against the doorway of our room, just long enough to kick off my shoes.

And I freeze.

Curled up in my bed—in my fluffy white comforter I picked out at Dillard’s on my last shopping trip with my mama in Nashville and my most-favorite one thousand thread count sheets—is my husband of eight years, sleeping soundly… and right beside him is another head of brown hair that looks suspiciously like Mindy Mitchell.

Been around the block more times than the ice cream truck on a hot July day… Mindy Mitchell.

Screwed the entire football team back in 2009… Mindy Mitchell.

Naked as the day she was born and curled up next to my husband… Mindy Mitchell.