Sugar Rush (5 page)

Chapter Five

For as small a city as Port Leyton was, Nick thought they had one of the best open-air markets around, especially during tourist season. Cocoas and spices from all over the world, fresh fruit waiting to be made into essences for frosting, and some of the best sugars you could find. Living relatively near a major international trading center certainly had its advantages, and Nick sometimes spent his lunch breaks wandering the booths. He was hoping to find some inspiration for the contest recipe, but instead he found himself studying the people more than the booths, secretly wondering if he might run into a certain maddeningly adorable brunette.

As he glanced up, his breath caught.

The wind blew her hair, but she didn’t seem to notice, an expression of utter contentment washing over her.

Nick didn’t want to be the one to wipe that expression from her, but he found himself paying for his purchase as quickly as possible, his feet rushing toward her before the rest of him caught up.

He shouldn’t talk to her; she was the enemy. His father had made that point clear over and over again. Nick didn’t know why his father was so adamant about the feud, but Nick remembered well when it started. Several years ago, before Nick had left for Harvard, his father had been happy, maybe for the first time since his mother left. He was a new man, though Nick never did find out what had changed. Maybe nothing, and his father had just decided to finally start living.

Then one day, as if a switch had been flipped, his father became withdrawn again.

Around that time he became obsessed with Candy Land Confections, calling them the enemy. Vowing to take them down one chocolate-coated candy at a time. And now all this crazy talk about sabotage? Although…he had to admit that the idea of getting closer to Dulcie didn’t sound so bad.

Nick supposed his father needed a hobby or something. And the feud had kept him busy for a while, building up business for How Sweet It Is at the rate of a madman. Nick began to think of him as the crazy candy king, but he never said it to his face.

He just sat back and rode the wave of sugar, assembly lines, and discount pricing.

Nick’s feet moved almost as if they were separate from the rest of him, getting closer to Dulcie, watching her hold her hair back as she leaned into a cart of spices. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful?

“Having fun?” he asked as she sniffed some fresh ground cayenne pepper, which almost made her choke and cough right into the stand.

Fortunately, she turned away before a coughing fit ensued. He cringed at his impeccable timing.

“Thanks a lot,” she said, glaring.

He put his hands up. “I can’t help it if you can’t hold your pepper.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but she obviously didn’t take it as one.

“You come here a lot?” he asked. Oh God, the same stupid thing he’d said at the club. Did he really have only one line?

She shook her head like he was the densest thing since sponge cake.

He chuckled, pretending they were having the most jovial of conversations. Of course, he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and not waltz right up to her, knowing she hated his guts and everything, knowing he was supposed to hate hers, but he couldn’t help himself.

She sighed. “Yes, I come here a lot. They have the best ingredients.”

At least she was still talking. He said a silent thank-you for small miracles. “I’m checking out some stuff for the big contest this year. Got the invitation last week,” he said, patting the white paper bag he held, keeping it tightly closed, which was pretty ridiculous considering anyone a mile away would have smelled the fresh lemons.

She scoffed. “Lemons? How very original.”

He squirmed, remembering the days when the family used to invent new recipes together. But that was a long time ago.

“Oh, don’t worry, it is,” he said, unable to stop himself as he forced a grin.

He wondered if the heat bubbling up inside him showed on his face. Maybe that’s why he said what he said next, to cover up his own embarrassment. “I see you don’t have any watermelons in your basket yet.”

Shit. Why?
Why are you so stupid?

Dulcie’s face simmered. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab the bag right out of his hand and stomp until lemon juice flowed down the street.

Instead, she took a long, slow pull of air, letting it out slowly though her nose, closing her eyes, like she was trying to meditate her anger away.

Nick silently begged for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Har, har,” she said, which was about as much as anybody could expect after such a low blow.

He tried babbling to fill the silence, yet another byproduct of his fat days. “So,” he said, patting his bag of lemons like an idiot. “Are you entering this year?”

She shrugged, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t decided yet. ”

He smiled. “I don’t blame you. After your last entry, it would take a lot of guts to put yourself out there again.”

She glared like he had never been glared at before and for a moment, Nick didn’t understand, until, of course, he replayed his last comment over in his mind and realized how awful it sounded. His eyes widened.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it must be hard…”

Yeah, that’s better
, he scolded himself.

“Oh, sure,” she said, a surprise smirk spreading across her lips. “And what about the Raspberry Truffle of yours? How very original.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing her ground, her eyes challenging.

Nick thanked the Universe she was still talking to him. The electricity pulsing between them was a living thing, his adrenaline soaring with each exchange. Sure, they were both acting like they hated each other, but something else, something stronger, simmered below the surface.

“It won first place!” he said.

She shrugged. “Still wasn’t very original.”

Was it his imagination, or were her eyes sparkling? Was she enjoying this?

He tested the waters, clearing his throat. “What did yours come in? Oh, right,” he said. “It didn’t.” He shook his head, but he was grinning.

She pulled her shoulders back. “Whatever,” she said. “You won’t be coming in first this year.” She flicked a phantom piece of lint off her shirt.

Nick had met his match. If his thoughts wandering to Dulcie when he daydreamed weren’t enough, this exchange had pushed him over the edge. She was so feisty, so determined.

“Oh, we’re going to win again,” he said. “In fact, you should enter something ridiculous just so you can watch me hold the trophy.”

…

Nick’s eyes danced. He was enjoying this, Dulcie realized.

She hated that she was, too, just a little. Even more, she hated that he knew about the watermelon catastrophe and that she just couldn’t bring herself to let it go without doing something stupid. “Don’t worry, I’m going to enter,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “And I can guarantee it won’t be you hoisting the trophy.”

Prickles squirmed up her back almost immediately at the thought of being there again, standing under those lights with everyone staring. It was like the humiliation had happened yesterday.

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Nick said, unable to completely mask his grin anymore.

Dulcie felt her defenses melting. The air changed direction and the lemon scent wafted toward her again, along with something else. Clean crispness, like a day at the beach sipping lemonade. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and breathe Nick in. “Really?” he said, plastering on a smirk of his own. “It’s on, then,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Oh, it’s on,” she said, taking his hand and shaking once.

She could have held on to his hand forever, but all too soon, he let go. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t held on just a moment too long after he’d opened his hand.

Her face burned as she watched him walk away, reminding herself he was the enemy.

The next day, all hands were on deck for candy-making time and Dulcie was more determined than ever.

The store had closed early on Sunday as usual. Ava and Constance, who had both said they wouldn’t miss it, were there, plus Lila, who was an easy bribe with a promise of all the candy she wanted. Even though Dulcie feared they’d have a Lila explosion to clean up by the end of the day.

Well, that and they’d never find the perfect chocolate for the contest.

She was already beginning to regret the little incident with Nick at the market, but in the heat of the moment, she hadn’t been able to stop her mouth from digging her into a hole. And she would not give him any satisfaction by backing out now.

She took a deep breath and placed the Spell Book of Sweets reverently on one of the large tables in the kitchen. “Come on, baby,” she whispered, “work your magic.”

As a kid, Dulcie believed the Spell Book did have a little magic inside, and, if honest, she supposed she still did. It had the power to make people come together, to put a smile on their faces, to help them through a rough time.

What better magic was there?

She ran her hand across the heavy leather cover, sent a silent message of help to the sugar gods, and flipped to a random page.

“Ode To Love,” Lila said, her voice thick with admiration. “Good choice.”

The Ode To Love had been in circulation for years and was a good seller, but Dulcie wasn’t sure it had a big enough wow factor. She imagined Grams rolling her eyes from eight blocks away at them “playing it safe.”

They decided to make a batch anyway, just for testing. Besides, they’d sell the extras in the shop, so it wouldn’t be a waste.

Everyone got to work as Dulcie continued flipping through the Spell Book.

Mocha Milk Chocolates, Cola-Infused Pistachio Truffles, Apricot Pecan Bark.

All good choices. All popular with their customers. All…

…safe.

She sighed and shut the book. Everything seemed like old news she’d replayed a hundred times. Maybe she was too close to the product to figure out what the most special ones were.

“You guys pick something,” she said, sliding the book across the table.

Lila broke into a huge grin, diving for the book, and Ava put her hand to her chin as if in deep concentration. At least she took it seriously.

They made Constance’s choice first, the Snowstorm—one of Dulcie’s personal favorites, maybe because she’d picked out the name as a kid. White chocolate covered a creamy minty green center and was sprinkled with cracked sugar; a store favorite in the winter, and perfect for an after meal refresher.

Lila’s choice proved to be a little less conventional. She wanted to go all out with an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink confection. The Pile Up had a chocolate wafer bottom with a drizzle of caramel, a coconut infused puff of marshmallow above, and a whole almond on top, which was encased in a seventy percent cocoa coating then sprinkled with toasted coconut. An assault on the senses for sure, but in a totally amazing way.

Ava reserved her choice until they’d made the other two, and it proved to be a good one. A few years back during the chai tea craze, her mom had designed the Chai Chocolate. Her creation was a lesson in subtlety, with slight hints of cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom whispering through the Swiss chocolate, almost making you wonder whether you’d even tasted them at all. The Chai was a chocolate of curiosity, before and after you’d eaten it, and in Dulcie’s opinion, one of her mother’s greatest candy accomplishments.

Ava was a smart, smart girl.

The store smelled like Christmas by the time they finished. Dulcie pictured a fireplace burning, even though they only had a crappy furnace in need of replacement.

They got their tasting plates ready, and of course made one for Jess, who was more than happy to be the impartial judge.

As Dulcie lifted the first taste of heaven to her mouth, a staccato of banging came from the storefront.

The other ladies were as bewildered as Dulcie. “Probably some customer desperate for a last minute anniversary gift for his wife or something,” she said, smiling.

Constance and Ava nodded. People often came rushing up after they’d already closed, begging for them to open for an “I forgot her birthday and have to come up with something spectacular” moment of desperation.

Dulcie could not have been less prepared for what stood on the other side of the glass door.

A tall, lanky, way too handsome, and unfortunately familiar guy in a Gatsby cap.

She stopped in her tracks, which she told herself had much more to do with the shock of him showing up—especially after the incident at the farmer’s market—than it did with the way his mouth curled into that mischievous, though friendly at the moment, smile.

She got herself together and stutter-stepped to the door, her feet heavy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, cringing at how bitter the words came out.

“Truce?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and holding out a white box.