Sugar Rush (12 page)

“What’s wrong with you?” Grams asked as Dulcie jittered.

“Um…” Dulcie said, “bathroom. I have to go to the bathroom. Could we hurry, please?”

Grams screwed her face into distaste, as if she had never had to endure such tragedy, but thankfully walked at a quicker click-clack than before once they reached their floor.

Dulcie threw her suitcase onto one of the beds and rummaged until she found a decent black top.

“I knew you hated that shirt,” Grams said, chuckling as Dulcie raced into the bathroom.

Dulcie almost didn’t change just to mess with her, until, that is, she thought of Nick. It was the first time she got a glimpse of herself in a mirror since before work that morning, which was a good sixteen hours ago. She realized she wasn’t a supermodel of course, but she had no idea how bad it had been. Her hair was almost more out of her ponytail than in, and what little makeup she’d been wearing had faded hours ago.

She tried not to think about what Nick must have thought when she’d trudged into the lobby.

Busy changing and doing what she could with her hair in the allotted thirty seconds, then whipping on some mascara, blush, and lip gloss, she’d forgotten she was supposed to come up with an excuse to get out of the hotel room and away from Grams. She stood in front of her, her brain whirring like an egg beater, with nothing to show for it but an open mouth and a blank expression on her face.

“Well, aren’t you going to go enter the chocolates?” Grams asked. “I mean, isn’t that what we’re here for?”

An angelic choir sang through the cavernous corners of Dulcie’s overtired brain. “Yup, sure am,” she said, hoping she sounded like she’d been planning it all along, when honestly, the moment she’d noticed Nick, she’d pretty much forgotten all about the competition.

One last glance in the mirror—an immense improvement—and she plucked one of the sample boxes off the bed and left Grams reading the hotel amenities pamphlet. No doubt Grams already had visions of saunas and mud baths in her near future.

Dulcie was late.

Only by about five minutes, but still, what if Nick just had a tiny window to meet her and she’d already blown it? Plus, she still had to get the entry checked in, with all the paperwork it entailed.

She was tired of waiting for time alone with him. She decided to go to Nick first.

Chapter Twelve

Nick watched Dulcie glance both ways, looking nervous. He grinned as she quickly snuck behind the tree, joining him in his covert hiding place. A thrill jolted through him, as if they were on a secret mission or something. Which he guessed they kind of were.

She’d changed. He’d kind of liked the Marvin the Martian T-shirt and crazy hair, not that he was complaining about this sexy black shirt and smoothed out hair, though. Either way, she was perfect. A little thrill shot through him as he imagined she’d fixed herself up for him, hoping she was as excited for their little rendezvous as he was.

He’d been standing in the lobby for so long, he knew everyone in the room. An older gentleman with round glasses sat reading in one of the large chairs for an hour already, and a businesswoman had just gone into the restroom.

The problem was, there wasn’t much space for both of them behind the somewhat spindly fake tree.

It didn’t matter; she was closer this way.

“So…your place or mine?” he asked, mentally kicking himself for his lame joke.

Her face was a little confused, and she took a step back.

His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t mean it like that; I just meant we should get out of this lobby in case your Grams or my dad decide to make an entrance.”

She grinned. “I know. I just wanted to make you sweat a little.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Oh, good.”

“Well, my room comes with a grams attached, so if you’ve got one all to yourself, it might be our best option.”

Nick nodded and smiled again. “Let’s go.”

Dulcie looked at the box of chocolates in her hand.

“Do you want to get those signed into the contest before we go up?” Nick asked.

Dulcie checked her phone for the time. “They don’t have to be in for a few hours.” She leaned toward the ballroom area where the contest was being held. “And there’s a line in there right now,” she said. Each year there were dozens of entries, which were whittled down to ten finalists. The finalists would come back in two weeks, tweaking their prized recipes as need be. It was quite a production, but the Assembly of Chocolatiers seemed to have a lot of money to spend. Chocolate never went out of style.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll work on the description for my entry while we’re up there. That way, it’ll be quicker to fill out the form when I get back down.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nick said, though he was pretty sure he could find something a lot more interesting than writing down her recipe description, which she’d probably memorized ten times over anyway.

The elevator ride was torturously long. “So, um, just so you know, my dad’s room is next to mine, so we’ll have to be a little careful coming and going, and not talk too loudly once we’re in there. If he hears a hint of a conversation going on, he’ll be grilling me half the day tomorrow about who I was talking to.”

“It’s all kind of exciting, isn’t it?” she asked, leaning in to him. “The secrecy and everything.”

It almost killed him the way she said it, all flirty, like she wasn’t only sugar and spice and everything nice.

He nodded, though he would rather have fewer heart palpitations as they slipped past his father’s room. Dulcie must have been a little overtired, too. She couldn’t suppress the giggle bubbling up as they reached the room.

Nick’s eyes darted to his father’s door. He held his breath.

But nothing came out other than a quiet droning of the television.

He unlocked the door and they slipped inside.

Nick went straight for the mini bar. “I need something to calm me down. I don’t know if I’m cracked up to sneaking around like this,” he whispered.

He was being silly—he was a grown man after all—but since he started going against his father’s wishes, he felt a bit like a six year old again. He also knew he didn’t have to whisper, but somehow everything he said came out like that anyway.

Dulcie giggled again. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I tend to giggle when I get nervous.” Her eyes widened in the cutest way possible. “I don’t mean I’m nervous because I’m in a hotel room with you. I just mean I’m not as confident a sneaker-arounder as I thought I would be.” She took the mini bottle of Merlot he held out to her, unscrewed the top, and downed a sizable gulp before he had a chance to offer her a glass.

She glanced up as his fingers hung over the paper-wrapped glasses. “Sorry,” she whispered, sheepish. “My manners seem to have left along with my sanity back in the car. It was a long ride up here, what with Grams grilling me half the time and everything.”

Nick nodded. She was so cute when she babbled.

“The other half I pretty much spent worrying something would happen to the chocolates or the car would break down and we wouldn’t get the entry here on time.” She peered around, presumably for a clock. “I wonder how long the line is now?”

“We’ve only been up here for about two minutes. I doubt the line has shrunk much.”

“Right,” she said, giggling, taking another swig from the wine bottle.

He put his hand back by his side. There was no way he wanted to give her a glass now. Not after watching her lips pucker the cute way they did to drink out of the tiny opening of the bottle.

Nick yawned. “Oh God, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,” he whispered.

They were in the same room as a bed for the first time in their relationship and he was yawning.
What the hell is wrong with me?

The yawn was contagious. “Sorry,” Dulcie whispered back. “Yeah, a really long day.” She took another sip of the wine and sat on the bed.

Nick sat beside her, careful to avoid the chocolate box between them.

She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, smiling, fiddling with her wine bottle.

She was too irresistible. He leaned in and kissed her.

She kissed him back, leaning in over the box of chocolates.

His hand instinctively went to her hair, soft and inviting. He kissed down her neck as she let out the tiniest of sighs. He wanted this so badly. Wanted her.

…

Dulcie’s eyes rolled back. She didn’t know if she was ready for this. Her body was screaming yes, of course, and even her mind seemed to say the same thing, but she was having the hardest time believing this could all be real. That Nick could be for real.

That things might actually be falling into place in her life.

Of course, Nick gave Dulcie’s conscious mind very little time to process as his lips swept down her neck, inch by inch, then grazed over her earlobe. Things went very quickly from light fun, to a heat straight out of an incinerator. Nick grabbed the mini bottle from her hand and set both their drinks on the bedside table, reaching behind him as far as he could, thankfully keeping his lips nearby.

Dulcie leaned with him, grabbing his neck, pulling him close, then scrambled to her knees. Nick followed, also crawling up on the bed. The world fell away and all thoughts of the competition, of the feud, of the little niggles that Nick might still be the enemy disappeared as the heat level in the room rose exponentially. This wasn’t about the rush of sneaking around or the adrenaline of the competition. Nick was so much more than that, and she realized right then that she had finally found someone worth making time for. That she was losing complete control over her own heart.

Then suddenly, a strange popping noise sounded and something crunched under Nick’s knee.

She couldn’t figure it out at first. What did he have on the bed? She didn’t remember seeing anything.

But in an instant, Dulcie froze.

She opened her eyes wide, even as her lips were still attached to Nick’s. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Nick leaned back, a strange look crossing his face. “What?”

“My chocolates,” she said, forgetting to whisper. “Oh my God, my chocolates!”

She could only see a tiny corner of the box, pummelled beneath the sledge hammer that was Nick’s knee. She backed off the bed fast, unable to catch her breath.

“Oh, shit,” Nick repeated, finally noticing the flattened box, still crushed beneath his knee. His gaze shot back to her, something resembling panic in his eyes.

“What have you done?” she said, her voice rising.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Nick said, his knee still firmly planted on the box.

“Get off it!” she yelled.

Nick jumped back off the bed, and with all the sticky caramel nougat, the chocolate box stuck with him.

She stared at her creation, so thoughtlessly destroyed.
How could I have been so stupid?
She pulled her hands through her hair, her stomach rolling, threatening to bring the few sips of wine back up.
God
, she thought as she looked at her sorry excuse for an entry hanging off Nick’s knee,
did he do this on purpose?
No, that couldn’t be. He didn’t care about the feud. Right?

Then a glimmer of hope hit her like the sour of a Lemon Drop. “Wait, we brought another box!” She stopped dead and looked up at Nick, who appeared to be sweating. “Oh shit,” she said next. “Grams!” She jolted off the bed, straightening her clothes as she fled from the room, not giving even the slightest consideration to the noise she made.

…

Nick followed, grabbing his keycard and peeling the sticky box from his knee, then tossing it on the bed on his way out.

He glanced at his father’s room as they rushed by, praying he hadn’t heard the exchange. But they got safely to the elevator without seeing anyone.

“What? What about your Grams?” he asked, having no idea why Dulcie had screamed about her.

“Grams is a complete chocoholic. Now that I’ve supposedly entered the competition, there’s nothing holding her back from eating the rest of them!” She raised her face toward the ceiling. “Please, candy gods, do not let her eat them.” She closed her eyes as if she were praying.

Nick shifted on his feet in the elevator. If Dulcie didn’t get her entry in because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself. He looked to the ceiling and sent up a little prayer for her grandmother’s restraint, too.

The elevator dinged and Dulcie took off like a blur down the hall. Nick stayed in the elevator with his head hanging out. The last thing they needed was for Dulcie’s grandmother to find him there. Especially if she had eaten the chocolates and all was lost.

Dulcie stopped in front of the door, digging in her pockets for the keycard.

She turned to Nick, panic in her eyes. “Shit! I must have dropped my key in your room!”

She started banging on the door. “Grams!” she yelled.

Nick glanced up and down the hall, hoping no one was asleep already. If they were, he doubted very much they would be after this.

“Grams! I lost my key! Open up, it’s a matter of life or death!”

Nick watched the door to Dulcie’s room in case he had to jump back into the elevator when it opened, but he wasn’t willing to leave her. Not after it was his fault her chocolates weren’t safely in the hands of the judges.

“Grams! Come on,” Dulcie said, pounding on the door again.

Dulcie’s panic deepened as she turned to Nick, at a loss for what to do.

“I’ll go check my room for your key,” he said. “Maybe your grandmother went out for a while.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, but then the door to her room started opening.

Nick ducked into the elevator, holding it open with his hand, careful not to let it show.

“What’s the matter with you?” Nick heard her grandmother say. “Who were you talking to?”

“Uh…n-no one,” Dulcie stuttered. “Just some guy asking where the pool was. Please tell me you haven’t eaten the chocolates,” she begged.

Nick peeked one eye out of the elevator. Dulcie’s grandmother stood at the door in a bathrobe with a towel on her head. And oddly, feathered high-heeled shoes.

“I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my bubble bath.”

“Oh no,” Dulcie groaned. “You always eat candy in the bath.”

Her grandmother sniffed. “It’s part of my pampering routine,” she said. “It’s the little things in life, you know.”

Dulcie pushed her way past her grandmother in search of the chocolates, but Nick had a sinking feeling.

“Oh, don’t get your licorice in a knot,” she said. “I’ve only eaten one so far. And what happened to the others, anyway? Are you actually going to tell me I don’t get to have chocolates with my bath?”

Nick didn’t know whether he should be relieved or not. Dulcie still had some chocolates…but would the judges accept a partial entry?

“Sorry, Grams,” Dulcie said, kissing her on the cheek on the way by again. “I promise I’ll make you whatever you want as soon as we get home.”

Dulcie raced toward the elevator, the second box in her hand.

“And by the way,” her grandmother called after her, “those are to die for. You got this thing in the bag, kid,” she said, in a sort of Katharine Hepburn impersonation.

Dulcie stopped and turned back to her. “Thanks,” she said, finally getting into the elevator, a flush coming over her face.