Five
“What can I get you, Andrew?” Matt asked, already reaching for one of the small boxes to fill with Belgian chocolates. “Vanilla Cream, Black Forest, or Mocha?”
“They’re not for me today.” Andrew checked his watch, on edge or just impatient, it was hard to tell. Mouth stretched in a thin line, more grimace than smile. He could be likeable, when he decided it was worth his while to put in the effort. Obviously, this was not one of those times. “Put a box together for my wife. You know what she likes best.”
“Sure.” Taking time on his lunch break to buy chocolates. Could be an anniversary gift, but if Matt had to put money on it, he’d bet Andrew stopped by Chocoholic’s because he had something to make up for. The man never did anything without an ulterior motive. He filled the box with orange apricot white chocolate pralines, dark chocolate, and a few champagne truffles for good measure.
The bell chimed above the door and, for an instant, he thought Charley had tracked him down. But her startled expression when she walked in and spotted him behind the counter put an end to that idea, and fast. Of course, with a dog named Cocoa, he should have expected to see her in the store sooner or later.
She wore loose jeans and a purple T-shirt that, from the looks of it, had been washed to oblivion and back. Those curls, the colour of caramel, were tied back from her face this time. And her sneakers were dusted with — powdered sugar and lime zest? No. Paint. The dark canvas speckled with white and green flecks.
With a jolt, he realized Andrew was talking to him. “Sure, I can wrap the box for you.” He was aware of Charley, as she began studying the chocolates. She had the same expression kids got when they browsed the store for the first time. Pure joy. “Can I get you anything else?”
Andrew hesitated. He glanced over at the glass display case. “Yeah, why not? I’ll take a bag of the Vanilla Cream too.”
He filled the bag with a generous amount, knowing it would probably be empty by the time Andrew got home. If the man had a vice, it was those chocolates. And, for the owner of Chocoholic’s, that wasn’t a bad thing. He’d expanded his selection of nut-free chocolates because of him.
A ringtone sounded, some tinny musical interlude. Andrew checked his phone screen and frowned. “Sorry, I’m going to have to take this.” He moved to the side to answer the call and Matt heard him say, “Actually, I’m just stepping on site now.” Sure, he was.
And that’s why Matt was in the chocolate business. Less games, less lies.
Finished tying the bow, he headed toward Charley, giving Andrew some space. She gazed at the display of plastic-wrapped bars of specialty chocolate lining the back wall in neat rows.
The antique cupboards at the front of the store — purchased at a yard sale and refinished himself — held milk chocolates shaped like animals, hot chocolate sticks, as well as fudge and jars of honey from local suppliers. The products on those shelves were a hit with the kids, but the bars of chocolate on that back wall were where he could let loose, play with flavours.
Moving closer, Matt snuck a glance over her shoulder to see what she was holding. A bar of Gin and Tonic chocolate.
A flash of colour on the inside of her wrist caught his eye. More paint? No, a tattoo. A dandelion, blowing in the breeze, all delicate lines and pastel yellow and green. Soft as a watercolour painting, the seeds drifted alongside the blue shadowed line, just visible beneath pale skin.
Her left hand kept time to the beat of the song, tapping out the rhythm against her leg. 80s classic rock at noon, just loud enough to be heard. He’d have it cranked higher, if he could get away with it without deterring customers.
“Hi.” Not creative, but it got him a smile.
“You own a chocolate shop.”
Amused, he said, “Yes, I do.” He nodded toward the door where Cocoa sat, looking in at them. Condensation clouded the glass at nose level. “If the water bowl is empty, I can fill it up for her.”
She looked surprised that he’d thought of it. “There was still some left, but thanks.”
“Let me get you a sample of the Gin and Tonic.” He stepped behind the counter and pulled out one of the airtight containers he kept on the shelf. White chocolate, infused with lime zest, juniper essential oil, and coriander.
She took the piece he offered. Her eyes widened as the flavour hit. “It tastes just like the cocktail! It even has that —” She waved her hand, searching for the right word. “— spritz!”
“That’s the popping candy.” Delighted by her reaction, he leaned a hip against the counter.
Normally, Andrew’s full-volume conversation at the front of the store would annoy the hell out of him. But right now, he wouldn’t mind if that call lasted another five or even ten minutes.
“I’ll take one of those.” Charley moved closer to the shelves, skimming over the names of the other flavours. “Do you make all of the chocolate yourself?”
“For The Chocolate Bar, yes.”
She looked at the bars on the wall and grinned. “Great name, by the way.”
He laughed. “I couldn’t resist,” he admitted. “Mrs. Callahan helps with the truffles and there are a few ready-made products up at the front, but I make everything else.”
She picked up a bar of milk chocolate, filled with strawberry rhubarb mousse. “How did you get into this?”
“Someone my mom worked with taught me how to make chocolate when I was a kid.” And let a twelve-year-old boy pound raw cacao beans into a workable mass until he forgot his grief. Until they had more blocks of shiny chocolate than they could eat. “I got hooked. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. The process of tempering chocolate, blending ingredients to create something new.” Like alchemy. “Trying to balance intensity and bitterness. It’s addictive.”
“I can imagine.” The way she looked around the store, taking in all the details of it, made him think she could.
“Anyway,” Matt said. “Enough about me. Would you like anything else?” Spreading his arms, he offered the selection to her. “Truffles? Hazelnut, marzipan, or vanilla cream? Hot chocolate, mochaccino? A date for Saturday night?” Unplanned, the question came out. And he stood there, heart hammering in his chest.
“I think I’ll stick with the chocolate for now,” she said with a grin.
Fair enough. Shot down for the second time. It had been a while since he’d asked a girl out. Maybe he was doing it wrong. He put the two chocolate bars into a bag for her. Best switch to small talk before he put his foot in it again. “When does the gallery open?”
“So that’s who you are.” Andrew ended his call and stalked toward them. Deep-set eyes fixed on Charley.
“Excuse me?” She turned to him. And looked up. He towered over her.
“You’re the one who convinced my wife to waste her time and money.” There was anger there, barely contained. And accusation.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” While Andrew’s voice had heated, hers had cooled to an icy tone that froze the blood in Matt’s veins.
Andrew didn’t seem to feel it. “I will not see my wife get crushed when this goes wrong. You’re doing this for fun, for the summer.” Disdain and no effort to hide it. “Got yourself nicely covered. No risk, nothing at stake.”
He wondered about that. “Got a problem, Andrew?”
“I do, in fact. With her.”
Before Matt could respond, she said, “You’re Kayla’s husband.”
Andrew crossed his arms. “That’s right.”
“Maybe you should let her make her own decisions,” she suggested. And if Andrew fell for that sugar-coated tone, he deserved whatever he got.
“So, you can influence her?” Andrew pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, counted bills. “The same way you convinced my wife to use her maiden name for the gallery? I don’t think so.” He brushed past Charley and dropped cash onto the counter, correct down to the exact change. “You’d better watch yourself, Ms. Scott. I intend to put an end to this exhibit.” There was confidence there, and arrogance. The kind that came from years of bulldozing buildings. And people.
That last sentence, it finally got to her, cracking her composure. “We’ll see about that!” She shouted, hands on her hips and visibly fuming.
The door slammed behind him.
“That was interesting,” Matt said. For a little thing, she could be intimidating.
“It was just talk,” she said, more to herself than to him. “What can he do?”
“Probably not much.” But Andrew didn’t make empty threats.
She took a breath. “Thanks for the Gin and Tonic sample. It was incredible.”
A simple compliment and one he’d heard often enough. Still, he felt the grin spread over his face. “You’re welcome.” Their fingers brushed as he handed her the bag of chocolates, and Matt felt a spike of adrenaline that caught him off guard, had him wishing she hadn’t turned him down for that date.
“Sorry about the scene.”
He shrugged. “That was nothing. It can get pretty wild in here, especially when there’s a good sugar buzz going.”
“Fist fights?”
“Only the occasional cocoa-fueled brawl.”
Charley laughed. At the door, she paused. “You know” — she broke into a smile that was pure mischief — “your ears go pink when you blush. It’s kind of cute.” She left before he even had the chance to think of a reply.
Shit. Did they really?
What time was it? Warm body beside her, back pressed up right against her side, and it was dark as anything. Then she heard the sound again. A low grunt. The clip-clop of hooves striking stone.
Charley had a vision of a mythical white horse, horn spiraling out of its forehead, walking majestically past her bedroom window.
Obviously, that was insane. She shook off the last remnants of sleep and concentrated. The body beside her was Cocoa, who had climbed onto the bed at some point in the night. Snuffling in her sleep, legs twitching with a dream.
Another low animal grunt from outside, more drawn-out this time, and Charley definitely heard the stomp of hooves.
It could not be a unicorn.
Tossing the covers aside, she slipped out of bed. Wincing at the cool floor beneath her feet, she padded over to the window. She’d left it open a crack. Expecting to look out into the dark, her heart rate kicked up a notch. That tightening of the chest, the shortness of breath. That childhood fear of the dark — of the unseen — could still sneak up on her, even now.
Twitching the curtain aside, heart racing, she peered out. The night air brushed over her bare arms.
But she was wrong about the darkness.
There, on the patio, lit by the pale light of the moon, stood a buck. About seven feet tall with prominent antlers, and much larger than the doe she’d seen on the road. The buck snorted, raising his head with a glitter of eyes. Silvery light caught on the sharp branched tines of antlers, shone white at his throat.
And she’d actually been worried she’d miss the bright lights of the city.
She held her breath as the animal passed, moving around the wrought-iron table and chairs, onto the grass and farther. Like something from a picture book. Hooves sinking into the grass, quieter now. Then it disappeared into the trees beyond.
Goosebumps prickled her skin. Giddy with the scene she’d witnessed, she tiptoed over the chilly floor, back to bed and snuggled down under the covers. In the orange glow of the bedside lamp, she rested her sketch pad against her raised knees, and drew.
And tried not to think about the threat that Andrew had made in Chocoholic’s.
So, he was Kayla’s husband.
All she’d gotten from Kayla was an email sharing the news of her engagement and a picture of the ring, showcased in its blue Tiffany box. After that, she hadn’t heard anything else, even though she’d asked for more details. Like his name.
Hard to believe her husband was so dead set against the exhibit. And Kayla hadn’t said anything about it.
Charley’s stomach twisted into knots as she glided the pencil over paper. The gallery was her chance to find out if she had the talent to make it as an artist. And she’d hold herself to the promise that, on her thirtieth birthday, she’d make a decision, once and for all. To continue or give up. If the gallery failed, she’d throw away her paints and commit to an office job. At some point, you had to face facts and stop putting time and effort into something that would never pay.
In the meantime, she planned to devote every iota of her being to fulfilling her dream.
With quick, sure movements of pencil over paper, she coaxed the buck into existence until, there he was, standing beside the round-topped table and delicate chairs again, framed by twisting branches. Lake gleaming in the distance.
Nothing — and no one — would stop her.