Sweet Surprises (17 page)

He'd been sure the two were about to have a rip-roaring fight. Instead, they suddenly seemed like the best of friends.

Good.

That saved River a lot of hassle. If Angel liked Byron, she'd be a lot less likely to repeat her mistake of the previous night.
If
it had been her mistake. The sheriff had seemed highly suspicious. As a matter of fact, he'd stopped just short of accusing Angel of the crime.

She was young, but she wasn't stupid. She'd known exactly why he was there and exactly why she was the one being questioned. She'd said some idiotic things to Brenna and she'd admitted them to the sheriff, but she'd insisted she hadn't been anywhere near Chocolate Haven.

River had believed her.

For what it was worth, he thought the sheriff had, too.

That didn't mean she was innocent. River had spent most of his childhood with people who made an art of deception. He'd listened and watched and learned how easy it was to convince someone of a lie. He'd even practiced it himself, telling caseworkers and teachers what they wanted to hear because it was so much easier than telling them the truth.

Yeah. Anyone could lie, and there were plenty of people who could do it well. Hopefully, Angel wasn't one of them, but River wouldn't count on it.

He watched as she and Byron walked down the hall. Old and young. Upright citizen and pregnant runaway. They shouldn't have connected, but it seemed they had. Whatever the truth about the previous night, that connection would be good enough to get them through the next few hours.

That was all River needed. Just enough time to meet with Brenna, teach her a few things about candy making, and seal the deal they'd made: his help for hers. A remodeled house. A happy business council. A smooth-running shop. Two people working together to get what neither of them could achieve alone.

It sounded good.

It probably
would
be good.

He grabbed his jacket and his keys, walked out into the cool morning. The rain had stopped, and he caught a hint of fresh-cut grass and late summer flowers in the air. It made him think of Brenna: her vibrant hair and stunning eyes, the velvety feel of her lips, the warmth of her skin.

Good was nice.

Good was comfortable.

But maybe he'd get something great out of the little town he'd once despised.

Six o'clock and River hadn't arrived.

That shouldn't have surprised Brenna. How many times had she waited for Dan? How many hours had she wasted in restaurants or at parties, hoping he'd show up soon?

Too many to count, but she'd admit that she'd expected better from River. He hadn't seemed like the kind of guy who'd make a deal and back out of it. He also hadn't seemed like the kind of guy who'd be late for a meeting or an appointment.

Of course, she hadn't thought Dan seemed like the kind of guy who'd lie, cheat, and steal. She'd been wrong about that. She'd been wrong about a lot of things in her life and she really needed to start being right.

River hadn't shown and she'd kicked Byron's grumpy butt out of the kitchen, so she'd have to get everything ready for the shop to open. She had exactly four hours to do it.

That wasn't a lot of time.

The way Brenna saw things, she could either curl up in a ball and cry like a baby or she could tackle chocolate making like she'd tackled everything else in her life. Because she wasn't much of a crier, she opted for the latter. Careful planning, step-by-step execution of that plan, and clear and precise steps to reach her goal.

Her goal being
not
running Chocolate Haven into the ground while Byron was on his fishing trip.

She eyed the recipes she'd printed out and taped to the backsplash. She'd been up almost all night, reading the old recipe books and learning everything she could about what it took to be a chocolatier. It took a lot. She might not have it all down, but she had brains enough to measure ingredients properly, pay careful attention to temperature, and she sure as heck could follow a recipe.

Why that had seemed so daunting before she didn't know, but she wasn't going to let it be daunting today. She'd seen Byron's face when he'd looked at the smashed bowl. It had told her everything she needed to know about how deeply he'd loved Alice, how hard they'd worked to keep Chocolate Haven going, and how much that meant to him.

To him, this wasn't just tradition. It wasn't just a family business. It was his life, and she was currently holding it in her clumsy hands.

“Fake it 'til you make it,” she muttered, grabbing ingredients from the pantry. Carefully this time. Everything set out on the counter in the order she'd need it. Dark chocolate nibs. Peanuts. Miniature marshmallows Byron had made the previous day. Nut oil.

She lined a large baking sheet with foil, set that on the long butcher-block island that stood in the center of the room. She set an empty bowl near it, grabbed the double boiler, poured in water, and set it to simmer. She found the candy thermometer in a drawer and grabbed it, arming herself for the battle.

Not too hot. That was what all the recipe books had cautioned. She poured nibs into the top part of the boiler, the heat from the simmering water turning them glossy and soft.

This was the part she'd failed at previously.

She'd been impatient, heating the water too quickly, letting it splash against the bottom of the boiler and overheating the chocolate.

Not this time.

She attached the thermometer to the side of the pan and stirred the chocolate with a spatula. Outside, the sun was rising. She could see hints of it through the plywood Jax had nailed in front of the window.

Byron had already called someone to fix it.

She had no idea who, but the person was supposed to be there before noon.

The chocolate's temperature crept up while she stirred, the nibs just gobs of deep brown chocolate stuck together in the bottom of the bowl. She watched the thermometer, pulled the chocolate when it was nearly all melted, and poured it into the clean bowl. She stirred it there until every bit of the nibs had disappeared and all that remained was rich, velvety melted chocolate. She added nut oil, just the way Byron did, then stirred in the marshmallows and peanuts.

Finally, she poured it onto the sheet pan, let the rich confection spread out whatever way it would.

Don't mess with it,
she could almost hear Byron whispering in her ear.
The beauty of our candy is that it's handmade. People like to see different-sized pieces, different shapes. They want that handcrafted look, and we always give it to them.

She resisted the urge to use the spatula to smooth chocolate to the very edges of the pan. She didn't add more nuts on the top or toss extra marshmallows where she didn't see any.

She let it be and stood back, shocked at what she'd accomplished. The chocolate bark looked beautiful.

“Good enough,” she said, even though she knew it was better than that. Byron would be thrilled that she'd finally mastered something more complicated than shaping chocolate roses.

She pulled a pen from her apron pocket, put a huge check mark next to chocolate bark on the inventory sheet.

Now, for caramel clusters.

Someone knocked on the back door as she was stirring butter, brown sugar, corn syrup, and milk, creating caramel from scratch just the way Byron did, just the way his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather had.

“It's unlocked,” she called, sure it was the window repairman. “Come on in.”

The door opened and chilly morning air swept in. She didn't dare look away from the thermometer. The temperature was increasing rapidly, the caramel bubbling happily.

“Go ahead and get started. I'm sure Byron already explained what he wanted done on the window,” she said, her focus on the candy. Almost there. Just a little more and she could take it off the burner, pour it into the bowl of perfectly toasted pecans. Not one of them had burned. Not one of them was even a little too brown. A coup, in Brenna's mind, and she wasn't going to ruin everything by burning the caramel.

“Actually, he didn't.”

River.

And, dear God, if her heart didn't jump at the sound of his voice, the warm velvety timbre of it.

“I thought you were the window repairman,” she murmured, lifting the caramel because it was beautiful and glossy, just the way it should be.

“Are you disappointed?” He leaned over her shoulder, watching as she poured the liquid candy over the pecans.

She could feel his warmth through the back of her shirt, feel his breath fanning her hair. When his hand settled on her shoulder, she didn't complain.

Maybe she should have.

She was getting a little too used to his touch, a little too comfortable having him around.

“Disappointed that you're late,” she replied, stirring the caramel and nuts. It needed to cool enough for the mixture to drop onto a sheet pan but not enough for it to harden. After that, she'd melt more chocolate. Milk chocolate this time. She'd pour it over the top of the caramel and pecans and let it harden.

She'd read all about it in one of Byron's books, but nothing in the book had mentioned how to keep focused on candy when a good-looking guy was in the shop.

“Will this make you less disappointed?” He held a brown paper bag in front of her face, the scent of bacon filling her nose.

She turned around, looked him straight in his gorgeous eyes. “Are you trying to ruin my caramel clusters by distracting me?”

“I'm trying to keep you from passing out later in the day when you've got dozens of customers screaming for your attention and all you're subsisting on is coffee and a piece of toast.”

“That is not what I had for breakfast.” She took the bag and opened it, her stomach growling loudly enough that River heard it.

He grinned. “In other words, you had nothing?”

“Something like that.”

“Eat. I'll handle this.” He lifted the mixture, started scooping it out onto a pan. “How many of these do we need?”

She checked the inventory list. “Five dozen.”

“You're going to be two dozen short.”

“How do you—” She stopped, eyeing the pan he'd already filled with dollops of pecan and caramel. “Wow. You're fast.”

“Eat,” he commanded. “The shop opens at ten? We've got a lot to do before then.”

She could have told him that all she needed was a few lessons on how to do things right. She certainly didn't need a man walking into her life and taking control of it, but he'd already tied an apron around his waist, grabbed milk chocolate morsels from the pantry, and was melting them in the double boiler.

And whatever was in the bag? It smelled phenomenal.

She dragged it out, opening waxed paper to reveal a breakfast sandwich filled with egg and cheese and bacon.

She couldn't resist it. She really couldn't, so she sat in one of the rickety old chairs and dug in, watching as River worked. He was a lot faster than she was. A lot faster than Byron even. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he had the milk chocolate melted and was pouring it over the caramel and pecan.

Before she could comment on how great the candy looked, he'd put pecans in the oven to toast and had begun a new batch of caramel.

“Better watch it,” she said as she finished off the sandwich and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “You keep working like you are and I might decide you don't need my help.”

He smiled and pulled her to her feet. “Sorry, red. Everyone works in my kitchen. Whether I need help or not.”

“
Your
kitchen? Don't let Byron hear you talking like that.”

“Wash your hands and grab some strawberries. I'm melting enough chocolate to do the strawberry dips,” he responded, giving her a gentle nudge toward the sink.

An hour later, she'd dipped three dozen strawberries into silky milk chocolate and decorated them with dark and white chocolate drizzle. She set them into the display case right between the caramel clusters and the chocolate bark.

River moved in next to her, a tray of cherry cordials in his hand. She didn't know how he'd done it, couldn't quite figure out how he was moving so quickly. They had nearly half of Byron's inventory of necessary candies made. Another hour and they'd be ready to open.

Almost.

There'd still be the fudge to make.

The Lamonts' top-secret recipe was locked away in a safe in Byron's office. No way could she give River a look at it. If she did, Byron would kill both of them.

“Looks good, huh?” River said, placing the cordials into the display case. He'd put each one in a small silver cupcake liner, the pretty foil paper adding charm to the domed candy.

“It does. Byron will be impressed.”

“He'll be more impressed if we finish. What do you want to tackle next?” His arm brushed hers as he closed the display case door, and she caught herself leaning toward him just a little, imagining for just a second a repeat of that sweet, sweet kiss.

Forever Kisses
.

The words ran through her head and she blinked, took a quick step back, the display case keeping her from actually turning and running.

No way in hell she was going down that path.

“Bonbons?” she murmured.

“Sure,” he said, but he didn't head back to the kitchen. He didn't even move. Just stood right where he was, studying her face as if there was something utterly fascinating about it and her.

Had Dan ever looked at her like that?

She couldn't remember, and that was pretty sad. All those years with a guy who'd never, ever been fascinated? Not cool.

Mooning over a guy like River? One who obviously had his life all planned out, his course set? That wasn't cool either.

Sure, he'd kissed her, and sure, she'd kissed him back, but they were both in Benevolence for a season. Neither planned to stay. Eventually, their lives would pull them on different trajectories, and then where would they be? Brokenhearted? Alone?

She'd rather just stay alone to begin with.

“I saw a recipe for coconut dream bonbons,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “Granddad has never made them, but they're a play off the cocoa and cream ones he makes every Saturday. I thought I'd make half his and half the coconut. They'll look really pretty together in the case: cocoa dusted bonbons next to ones rolled in coconut.” She was blabbering on like an idiot because he was still standing between her and the kitchen and she wasn't sure why it mattered. Why she didn't just step to the side and walk past him.

She could have very easily. Just like she could have told him that the kiss they'd shared had been a mistake, that she didn't ever want a repeat of it.

“You're nervous.”

“And?”

“I want to know why.”

“Because I've got a lot to do in a limited amount of time.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe, but what good would the truth do?”

“It might help me understand.”

“Why do you even need to?” She tried to laugh, the sound echoing hollowly through the shop as she finally got herself moving past him and into the hallway.

“We're going to be working together a lot these next two weeks. Understanding each other will go a long way in making that easier.”

“Hasn't it already been easy?” she asked, because it had been. Somehow, they'd just kind of moved into each other's rhythms, synched with each other's energy.

“So, maybe I lied, too, red,” he said as he grabbed ingredients from the pantry. “Maybe I find you interesting and maybe that interest is making me want to know more.”

“Like?”

“Why you're lying to your family.”

He turned to face her and she couldn't get the words out, the ones she was supposed to say:
I'm not lying. Why would you think I'm lying? Who told you I was lying?