“Wow.”
Of course, that masculine image was slightly compromised by the fact that Quentin wore an apron over his jeans and T-shirt—an apron covered in flour and dough. Micah wanted to lick it off. The first processed food he’d had in years.
Quentin wiped his hands. “What did you want?”
His eyes wouldn’t focus. He just wanted to keep staring at that loveliness.
“Maybe I could get one of your raw cupcakes?”
“You came here before opening for a cupcake?”
Micah shook his head. “No. I have something to tell you. Something pretty awful.”
Quentin frowned. “Something more awful than you going back to your yoga teacher a few hours after we had sex?”
Micah breathed out hard. “It’s related to that. Where can we talk?”
“There are people baking in the kitchen. You know, baking that poison I make and force on people?” He stood very upright.
“I’m truly sorry for that. Just, please, let me tell you what’s happened.”
“Okay.” Quentin stepped aside and pointed to the back. Micah walked into the shop, assailed again by the sweetest of smells. No, second sweetest, after Quentin.
Quentin walked through the door that led to the kitchen, and Micah followed. He turned right and stepped into a small office with a desk, computer, and a filing cabinet. Quentin pointed to a straight-back chair across from the desk. He took the desk chair. “So what did you want to tell me?”
Whew. Face-to-face, this is tough duty. His heart beat so hard he could feel it in his toes. “I, uh, I really care about you.”
Who knew Quentin’s face could get that angry. “You sure have a unique way of showing it, sugah.”
“Wait. I’ve done a bunch of dumb things, and I’m not sure which is dumbest. First, I did that whole priggish song and dance about the cupcakes being poison when I should have been telling you how much I admire you and appreciate how you take care of your grandmother. I really want to know why you created those raw cupcakes”—he held up a hand—“but first I have to tell you about my other idiot moves. The reason you saw me with Dharmaram is because he was blackmailing me. He figured out that the beautiful woman he saw me with is the grandson of his most proper Southern lady student, and he threatened to tell Mary Beth about you if I didn’t take him back in. What you saw was him moving his stuff into my guest room. That’s guest room.”
Quentin’s mouth literally hung open. “But why did you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Micah shrugged. “I knew if I told you, you’d immediately come out to your grandmother, and I didn’t want to force you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
“So you’ve been hosting that snake in the grass on account of me?” The blue eyes widened to saucer expanse.
Micah shifted in the chair. “I was. But that’s why I ran here so fast this morning. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I woke up this morning and he was climbing in bed with me. I threw him out—again.”
“Good.”
“Not good, because he’s going to go straight to Mary Beth and—”
“Who’s going straight to me, darling?”
The soft Southern voice came around the partly closed door, followed by a curly head and blue eyes that sparkled just like her grandson’s.
He would have smiled, but fear seemed to have frozen him solid. What could they say? All he could do was follow Quentin’s lead.
Mary Beth moved gracefully into the little room. She wore jeans and a frilly white blouse that created a perfect contrast of old and new worlds. She stuck out her hand. “So you’re Micah, am I right? We didn’t get to meet properly on that day at the studio.”
He shook her soft, small hand. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
Quentin stepped over and kissed her cheek. “I thought you had yoga class this morning, dear.”
“No. George and I are switching to Pilates for a while until we find an instructor with better ethics.”
Quentin flushed. “Did he offend you in some way?”
“Not at all. I just find him a bit of a shady character.”
Micah couldn’t hold in a laugh. “You have that right. I’m sure you can find someone who’s as good a teacher but a better person.” Maybe that meant she wouldn’t hear about Quentin. The day was looking up.
She smiled. “So what are you two planning?”
Quentin glanced at Micah. “Oh, uh, nothing. Micah, uh, just wanted a raw cupcake.”
She beamed. “Good. I’ll get you a box. I was thinking perhaps we can work out a distribution deal with you. You can offer the raw cupcakes at your restaurant. Then your customers won’t be so enticed by our sugar and flour.”
Micah really laughed this time. “Quentin told me you were a sharp businesswoman. I see he was right.”
She put a hand on Quentin’s arm. “Oh, he’s far beyond me in so many ways. I’m very proud of him.”
Moisture glistened in Quentin’s eyes. “I’ll never be half the entrepreneur you are, NeeNee.”
“Nonsense. Plus you’re far more creative.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll get those cupcakes. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally get to meet Quentin’s boyfriend. I knew you would choose well, dear.” She walked out of the room.
Pins dropping.
Quentin stared at Micah, his mouth working a little. Micah didn’t move. He’d been turned to stone.
Quentin shook his head like a swimmer coming out of deep water. “She didn’t mean that,” he whispered. “Just friends, as in boys who are friends.”
Micah leaned toward Quentin and hissed, “I don’t think so—”
Her voice preceded her. “Thank you, dear. These look divine.” Mary Beth walked back in the door carrying a pink cardboard box. “Oh my, the girls have included some of the new date and nut recipe.” She handed the box to Micah. “We’re having a grand time proving that raw food
