Cowboys and Cupcakes #3
Summary:Baker Jax Martinez works odd hours making cupcakes and cookies in his New York apartment. It’s a skill he learned from his grandparents, who raised him in a bakery of their own, and he’s never wanted to do anything else. His strange schedule makes it hard to have friends and a social life, but he’s an introvert so the occasional Sunday dinner with his best friend January is enough for him.
Sawyer McMahon joined the army to leave behind everyone and everything he knew after losing the cowboy he loved in a horrific rodeo accident. After nearly losing his own life as a soldier overseas, he’s not sure what’s next for him. His old rodeo buddy Hawk Destry, who has had to deal with a disability of his own, offers Saw a place to stay for a while in New York and he takes it, hoping Hawk can help him get his recovery on track.
It’s an instant friendship when Jax finds an excuse to rescue Saw from an overwhelming moment, and they discover quickly that they want to be more. Their issues and quirks seem to fit together in a strange and complicated way, but neither of them has thought much beyond the present moment. Could they actually have a future together? Or are they destined to be just friends?
Summary:
Thawed Out is an opposites attract, second chance romance featuring an established couple on the edge of divorce, a ferocious snow storm, precocious children and a healthy dose of holiday magic.
Kiren knows there is a storm coming when he goes to the cabin to deliver divorce papers to his husband Flynn, but he doesn’t plan to stay long. He hates that it’s come to this, but they just can’t seem to do anything without arguing anymore. When he finds Flynn looking so skinny and unhappy, he ends up staying to talk.
And maybe to try harder not to break up their family.
Flynn knows Kiren is just as tired as he is. They both work hard. They both take care of their two kids. He doesn’t want to give up, but between his long hours and going to school, he always seems to be in trouble when gets home.
Before they know it, they’re snowed in with nothing but time on their hands. The two of them decide that they don’t want to be frozen in the worst time of their married life. But can they work together to find the balance they need to start again?
Cowboys and Cupcakes #3
1
Jax Martinez sat on the counter in his tiny kitchen and glared at Casper. They were supposed to be making profiteroles for Sunday, but the dough hadn’t really gotten doughy, and the eggs had made the mixture soppy instead of something he could squeeze through his pastry bag. What had happened? He didn’t get it. They’d made them a million times.
Like, a million-million times.
Maybe he put in too much butter? Maybe he didn’t cook it on the stove long enough. Maybe it was bad luck.
He had a lot of bad luck.
It was Saturday, and on Saturdays, he had pizza and watched a movie on TV. That had been his plan anyway, until the profiteroles didn’t work out.
“What the hell, Casper?” He glared harder, wishing his food processor could actually understand how annoyed he was. It couldn’t, of course, because it was an object and objects didn’t think at all, but they should know when they weren’t behaving the way he wanted them to.
“You don’t love me anymore,” he said and hopped down off the counter. He didn’t expect a response. Food processors were kind of the strong silent types. “You can just sit there by yourself for a while and think about what you’ve done.”
So there.
He left the kitchen—which took him about three steps—and picked up his cell phone to order delivery. He’d have his pizza and then he’d clean up and try again later. He’d made lots of sweets at midnight, or at four in the morning. He liked baking in the middle of the night.
Just as he was dialing, a doorbell sound rang, making him grin. That was his buddy Jan’s ringtone. January Bell. Dumb as hell but the pun made him giggle every time. He tapped on Jan’s text.
January:Hawk is at the airport picking someone up. Want to come for dinner about six?Dinner? Surely Jan knew he was a very busy man and couldn’t just drop everything and go out for dinner.I could eat.
He went to find his shoes. He just needed to clean up the kitchen.
Wait.
He stopped short outside his bedroom door. Hawk was at the airport? He looked at the text again, and then dialed Jan.
Jan was laughing as he answered. “Did you forget how to get here?”
“How is Hawk picking somebody up at the airport?” Hawk Destry, Jan’s husband, was a former bull riding champion and the bravest guy Jax had ever met. Hot too. Jan was a lucky bastard. But Hawk didn’t see so well. As in the guy was legally blind.
“Ever heard of a taxi? It’s this yellow thing that—”
“Ha. Ha, ha.” Jax snorted. “By himself?”
“Sure. He has Buck with him.”
“You let him go alone.” Hawk’s service dog was smart as hell, but January wasn’t fooling him.
“He’s a grown man, Jax. I didn’t let him do anything. He insisted.” Jan sounded a little defensive now.
“Ah.” Uh-huh. Now he got it.
“What?”
“How worried are you?”
Jan laughed. “Well, it’s his first time going to the airport alone. But I’m not really worried, I’m… I’m kind of—okay, I’m fucking worried.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Thawed Out #4
1
Kiren sat in his car at the bottom of the winding Cedar Road. He’d been idling for a bit, reading the road sign over and over and working up the nerve to keep going. He glanced at the envelope on the passenger seat again, then sighed and took the right-hand turn toward the cabin where he was meeting his husband.
His soon to be ex-husband.
It was hard to believe all their arguing and hurt feelings and drama had been reduced to just a few words on paper. The end of their marriage felt heavy as hell but didn’t look like much.
He needed this over with. He was worn out. Emotionally, physically, just done. They needed to put this behind them and move on.
The road was bumpy, tree-lined, and narrow in spots, but in others it was wide and cut through open pastures with amazing views. Usually. Today it was cloudy and really cold, and the visibility was very low. The bumpy road was covered in packed snow. It never got steep enough that he needed chains or anything, but he was glad for his all-wheel drive.
He finally made it to the cabin and parked in the guest space where his parents parked when they visited. Flynn’s truck, which they usually drove up here as a family, was parked out front.
He shut the engine off and took a breath, and then another. It wasn’t the papers that had him anxious; it was seeing Flynn. The wild, mixed emotions of the divorce had become so confusing that it actually made his stomach ache.
Get in, get the signatures, get out. You’ve got this. Easy.
He took one more breath, dragged the envelope off the passenger’s seat, then climbed out of the car.
The front door opened, Flynn’s face ashen under his tan. He’d gotten damn near gaunt in the last year, and his flannel shirt and jeans drowned him. “Is everything all right with the kids?”
He sighed. In Flynn’s defense—for all that Flynn didn’t need defending—cell service was spotty up here even in good weather. “They’re fine. I texted you.” He waved the envelope. “Papers.”
“Jesus.” Flynn stared at him a second then turned to head back in the house. “I guess it’s fitting.”
Fitting? What the fuck did that mean?
He was going to be sorry he did this, wasn’t he? He should have just waited for Flynn to come back from hibernating in the mountains or whatever the fuck he was doing up here alone and let the lawyers handle everything. Hell, he could have just sent a courier up here.
But no, the one thing Flynn was right about was that he could be a bit of control freak. He knew that much about himself. He needed this done, and the best way to make sure was to do it himself.
He snorted as he climbed the steps. Maybe that was what Flynn meant by fitting.
Touché.
Fuck.
He opened the screen door just after it slammed shut behind Flynn and went inside.
Flynn headed straight for the kitchen and the coffee pot, pulling out a second mug before filling them.
“Do you have a little cream?” Flynn hadn’t gone far. The kitchen was tiny and open to the living space. “I’m not staying long.”
“I do. No? You’re going to have to wait for me to read everything, so you can drink a cup of coffee.”
“Mhm.” And they didn’t have to talk while Flynn was reading. He took the mug from Flynn, trading it for the envelope and took a sip. Flynn made a good cup of coffee. “Take your time.”
He wandered around with his mug, noting the tequila on the kitchen counter and the blanket and pillow on the couch. He stopped to look at the pictures hanging on the wall. A couple of them were family pictures from Flynn’s grandfather, but most of them were of just two of them, or of Jasper and Cassidy when they were tiny.
Good memories.
God, he hated this.
Flynn’s grandfather had willed him this cottage, and Flynn adored it.
It wasn’t much—one bedroom, a huge front room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a tub filled from the cistern and a composting toilet. The electricity was solar, so it was a little touch and go, and the heat was a pellet stove, but it was remote, the deck was to die for, and it was the quietest place he’d ever been.
He’d always loved it here, but not today. Today it felt like hell on earth. There wasn’t enough air in the place.
“I should—you want me to take a little walk?”
Flynn’s eyebrow went up, lips tightening, and he could almost hear the snarling words that had to be zipping through the man’s head. “Whatever turns you on, babe.”
Well, fuck, He’d thought Flynn would appreciate the space, but now? Now, he needed it. “Uh-huh.” He zipped his coat back up, picked up his coffee, and stomped out the back door into the cold.
It was really cold. He pulled his hood up and zipped his coat even higher. It was pretty out here though; the woods were snowy and it was still and quiet. His coffee was going to get cold fast out here, so he took a big sip.
The wind was beginning to blow, and the sun didn’t want to filter down through the trees, not even a bit.
He thought about texting Mom or maybe Walt, just to get some sympathy, but he had no signal. Dammit.
He tried to check the weather too, but no luck there either; the wheel just spun and spun and nothing ever loaded. No matter, he’d be leaving shortly, and if he really needed to know, there was a radio in the cabin somewhere. He’d go back in soon. He wasn’t sure he trusted Flynn not to leave him standing out here just for the amusement factor.
He’d probably do the same.
He stepped off the wide deck and walked along the path Flynn had shoveled like always. It went out into the woods a bit to a firepit and some log benches. It also went all the way around the cabin, which was great when the kids needed somewhere to run.
By the time he got back his fingers were pretty well frozen, so he stomped the snow off his boots and stepped out of them as he came back inside.
“Mm. Warm in here.”
“Yeah. It’s chilly today. We have to talk about this. I’m not letting the kids go for half the summer.”
But he had summers off. This kept them out of daycare for five weeks. “Wait. What? Why not? We definitely talked about this. I’m off in the summer.”
“I’m not going without them for weeks at a time. I can’t, and I’m not going to give in on it.”
He understood; he wouldn’t want to either, but it was practical. “Flynn, it just makes sense. It’s not ideal, okay, I know, but I can be home. It will save us money, and we can plan vacations. It’s only half the summer.”
“Okay, then I want winter and spring break and all the school holidays.”
Flynn was just being spiteful now. “Spring break, fine. The rest—you’re out of your mind. We’re trading off.”
“So what? You get the babies for five weeks, and I get one in exchange?” Flynn shook his head. “How the fuck is that reasonable?”
“Because you do shift work, and you need to find childcare in the summer, and I don’t. If we split the cost of summer care, we’re saving money. Or doesn’t money matter to you anymore?” Was it fair? Maybe not. But it was practical.
“Oh fuck you! You think I’m busting my fucking ass to get my physician’s assistant’s license for fun? I started this so you could keep your fucking dream job with the students!” That was the most fire he’d seen from Flynn in a year.
He used to love it when Flynn was passionate about something. But he lowered his tone because he couldn’t take the yelling anymore and went back to the coffee maker without looking at Flynn. “Wow. Pardon me. I thought this license was something you wanted. My dream job happens to be the job I have; I didn’t know I needed to apologize for that.”
Flynn slapped one hand on the table, making the coffee cup jump and rattle. “Seriously? You’re going to be all… I left the circuit because we wanted kids. I worked nights at the ER because of the money. I started school so that I could keep the salary and work days. I’m fucking tired, man!”
He jumped, startled enough by the sound that his heart was pounding, then turned and stared at Flynn, not bothering lower his voice this time. “Right. How could I forget that you’re the only one who has sacrificed for our children? You’re always reminding me! Meanwhile, I obviously have plenty of time, plenty of money, and am totally well rested! Lucky fucking me.”
If he wasn’t driving he’d grab that bottle of tequila.
“I know we took a hit on the money. It was for two motherfucking years. You couldn’t have my back for two years?”
“I did have you back for two years, Flynn. Jesus Christ.” He sighed and turned back to the coffee maker. “Fine. We’ll share the summer. Just write in whatever you want, and I’ll have the lawyers fix it. I can’t… I just can’t do this. I can’t argue anymore.” He was exhausted too. Just completely out of spoons. “Whatever you want.”
“I want my fucking life back!” The coffee cup went flying, smashing on the floor as Flynn stormed out, the entire cabin shaking.
“Fuck.” Me too.
He watched the coffee run across the floor and sighed. It would be a shame if it made it over to the little rug Flynn’s grandmother made. He looked found a broom and a towel to clean up, then threw all the pieces in the garbage.
The divorce papers were still on the table, and he didn’t touch them.
He lit a lantern, hating how dark it was, but it was the longest night of the year, so…
The door opened up, Flynn’s arms filled with wood, his lips blue.
“Jesus. Are you okay? Put that down.” Kiren grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, helped Flynn put the wood in the holder, then sat him in a chair near the stove and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “I’ll get you more coffee. Your fucking lips are blue.”
It was a testament to how cold Flynn was that he didn’t argue. He simply sat and shivered.
He brought a hot mug of coffee back and put it in Flynn’s hands, not letting go in case Flynn had trouble holding onto it. “Sip slowly.”
Flynn took a sip, and dammit, the tears that had frozen on Flynn’s eyelashes thawed, shimmering before they fell.
He pretended he didn’t notice, but he definitely had, and it made his chest ache. Through all of this bullshit he’d never figured out where they’d lost each other and become something unfixable. They used to finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s thoughts. Now he was lucky when Flynn threw a mug because at least that was something he could understand.
“Thanks for the drink.” Flynn’s voice was raw, rough as a cob. “Sorry for breaking the cup.”
Like he cared about a coffee mug. “I’m sorry I sprung this on you. I did text, but I should have known better.”
“I needed a break. I finished finals and needed somewhere the phone couldn’t find me.”
“I get it. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll take off as soon as you thaw out.” He stood and peered out the window. He’d thought the darkness was due to the weather, but no, it was plain old night out there now. “Shit. It’s really dark. Well, I’ll be careful.”
“What?” Flynn frowned and stood up. “No. No, you know those roads aren’t safe in the dark, especially not without a four-wheel drive.”
He did know that; he and Flynn had learned that the hard way about six months before Jasper was born. It was sweet that Flynn seemed so worried about him doing something stupid. He sighed. “Yeah. Crap.”
Flynn stared at him for a long minute, then breathed deep. “Are the kids expecting you home? Do I need to get the sat phone?”
“I guess we should tell Mom I’m stuck for the night, yeah.” That was going to open another can of worms, but she was going to have questions either way.
“No reason to worry everyone. Jasper worries.”
Yeah, their six-year-old was absolutely anxiety boy, worrying about everything.
“I know. Sorry about this. It’s obviously not the downtime you were looking for.”
Flynn waved his words away. “It’s fine. You need to be safe. Tomorrow you can run down the mountain and all.”
He nodded. “I can take the couch.” He’d head out in the morning and do what he should have done in the first place—let the lawyers handle this shit.
“I’ve been sleeping there, if you want the bed. I can’t—I haven’t been sleeping in the bedroom.”
That was how he felt about the house, especially when the kids weren’t there. “Sure. Okay.” He assumed the stuff he’d left in the closet and the dresser were still here. He probably even had a toothbrush.
“There’s soup if you want it. Bread.” Flynn stood up, wandering over to where their—the—satellite phone was plugged in. “Call your mom. I’m going to warm this place up.”
“Thanks.” He took the phone from Flynn, ignoring the tingle where their fingers touched, and made the call. He had enough juice in his phone to read a book for a while so, when he was done, he’d just tuck himself in and leave Flynn alone for the evening.
He dialed and waited for the call to connect.
Saturday Series Spotlight
Jodi PayneJODI spent too many years in New York and San Francisco stage managing classical plays, edgy fringe work, and the occasional musical. She, therefore, is overdramatic, takes herself way too seriously, and has been known to randomly break out in song. Her men are imperfect but genuine, stubborn but likable, often kinky, and frequently their own worst enemies. They are characters you can’t help but fall in love with while they stumble along the path to their happily ever after.
For those looking to get on her good side, Jodi’s addictions include nonfat lattes, Malbec, and tequila any way you pour it. She’s also obsessed with Shakespeare and Broadway musicals. She can be found wearing sock monkey gloves while typing when it’s cold, and on the beach enjoying the sun and the ocean when it’s hot. When she’s not writing and/or vacuuming sand out of her laptop, Jodi mentors queer youth and will drop everything for live music. Jodi lives near New York City with her beautiful wife, and together they are mothers of dragons (cleverly disguised as children) and slaves to an enormous polydactyl cat.
For those looking to get on her good side, Jodi’s addictions include nonfat lattes, Malbec, and tequila any way you pour it. She’s also obsessed with Shakespeare and Broadway musicals. She can be found wearing sock monkey gloves while typing when it’s cold, and on the beach enjoying the sun and the ocean when it’s hot. When she’s not writing and/or vacuuming sand out of her laptop, Jodi mentors queer youth and will drop everything for live music. Jodi lives near New York City with her beautiful wife, and together they are mothers of dragons (cleverly disguised as children) and slaves to an enormous polydactyl cat.
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, baking, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting, and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.
Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head, and she's determined to give her cowboys their happily ever afters.
