Sweet Montana Christmas (7 page)

“Good,” he said, his voice muffled by the chocolate. He swallowed. “What is it?”

“Almond cream truffle.”

“Oh. Darn.” The light left his eyes again. “Can you make up a package without nuts for me? One of the guys at the ... on the team is allergic.”

“Sure. That's easy enough. Tell you what. I'll make up one of each.” She put her hand on his arm. “Zach, is something wrong? You don't quite seem happy.”

“I'm fine. Be right back.” The doorbell jangled loudly as he left the shop.

“I don't know what's going on,” she said to Sugar, who was still hiding in her cubbyhole. “But that man is not fine.”

He strode down the sidewalk toward the main drag, and her heart raced a little faster as she watched him. He may not be fine mentally. As far as physical aspects went, he was perfect.

Clouds swirled to the west, the slate gray of snow clouds. Would it pile through town or circle the valley like it often did?

They didn't call Missoula the banana belt of Montana for nothing.

Just as long as it didn't snow next Monday. She wanted her opening day to have perfect weather. Even in winter, the city could produce beautiful days, the crisp mountain air sharpening the edges of the Victorian architecture and strong maples that lined the streets of the old section.

Way different from Texas's heat—summer or winter, the state was hot.

Like her chocolates, Sue Anne preferred seasonal variety.

She sighed and turned away from the view. There was still too much to be done.

She was reviewing the instructions for the register when Zach returned.

“You'd think they would make these things simpler,” she said, punching one of the keys in frustration. “All it has to do is record a sale and open the drawer. But no, I have to program it to understand what kind of chocolate the person is buying.”

“I know what you mean. I used to be able to maintain my car. Now I can barely change the oil.” He held up the paper bag in his hand. “Fortunately, I can still fix plumbing.”

His mood seemed to have lightened in the time he was gone. Score one for chocolate.

“That's why I like getting out in nature,” she said. “No one's going to computerize a tree. All I have to do is put one foot in front of the other to get to the end of the trail.” She followed him into the kitchen.

“You like hiking?”

“Yes. I really love the Bitterroot. Do you? Like to hike?”

“Uh-huh.” The reply wafted from under the sink.

Maybe she wouldn't always have to hike alone. Having a friend along made the day better.

She contemplated the legs stretched out before her. The jeans tightly encased his lower body, not leaving much to the imagination.

It had been a while—since before Christmas. Not that she was needy. It would just be … well … nice.

The legs began to move, and she stepped back, looking for something to make her appear like she'd been working, not doing anything rude.

Like craving his body.

“Should be all set now,” he said, unfolding himself from the floor. “Give it a try.”

She turned on the hot water full blast, and pressure made the water bounce from the sink and cover her blouse with big splotches, some in strategic places.

“Oops. Guess it works.” She dried her hands with a kitchen towel and gave him a big grin, trying to ignore the nascent lust the situation was producing. “I've got your chocolates all ready. Here's the one without nuts.” Nuts. There were so many variations of meaning of that word, most of them having to do with some type of derangement, while others ...

Her mind went all wonky with this man around.

“Mind if I wash my hands?” He held up his hands, covered with grime.

What would they feel like on her body? If his touch was anything like his kiss, she'd be orgasmic in no time.

“Would you like to go hiking some weekend?” she blurted out as he cleaned up.

He was still drying his hands with the towel, the expression on his face neutral. “Snow's a little high yet. Unless you mean snowshoeing.”

“I've never been snowshoeing. I'd like to try sometime but not right now.” She gestured around the room. “Got too much to do.”

“Right.”

“But later. In the spring?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Um. I suppose so. Yes.” She grinned, hoping it was encouraging. She only meant to ask him out as a friend. A man friend. Not a date. But she'd made the invitation, so she'd need to stick by it, no matter how he interpreted it.

He looked at her warily, like she might be a dog ready to bite.

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it rapidly. He was either in or out.

A glint appeared in his eye.

Or maybe it was just the sunlight streaming through the window.

With his index finger, he traced the edge of her jaw.

Pretty soon she'd be running naked in the snow to cool down.

Would he appreciate that?

The neighbors probably wouldn't.

 “Well, do you?” she asked, pretending to ignore the traveling finger.

“Tempting.” He stopped. “How about we wait until the snow melts? Then ask me again. As a friend. I'm not much for dating at the moment.” He seemed to deflate. “Like you, I've got stuff to do. Good luck with your inspection. And your opening.”

Sugar took that moment to emerge from her hidey-hole. She raced to Zach and nosed his shoes before reaching up to his knee with her front legs.

“Hello, little one.” Zach's face relaxed as he squatted to scratch Sugar's head. “What's her name?”

“Sugar.”

“Of course.” He chuckled, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “You are a cute ugly dog, aren't you? Pug?”

“Uh-huh.” The transformation was amazing. This was a man who obviously liked pets.

She watched as he scratched the dog's head. Soon Sugar rolled over and let him get at her belly.

“That's a good girl,” he cooed.

“Do you have a dog?” she asked.

“Apartment won't allow them.” He looked up at her.

Oh.
Her heart took one more step closer to caring too much. Lust was one thing. The other “L” word was another.

That wasn't part of her plan. Based on what he'd just said about dating, probably not in his plan either.

They were perfectly matched that way.

He stood, and their gazes interlocked, ramping up the heat between them.

Stroking her chin again, he tilted his head and his lips met hers.

Maybe he'd be interested in friends with benefits.

Sue Anne unlocked the store front door and pushed it open, her nose tingling from the freezing air. The thermometer said twenty degrees, but it felt warmer than that, thankfully. The bright blue sky she'd hoped for the opening day had failed to materialize.

She lugged out the sidewalk sign announcing a free cup of hot chocolate.

That should draw them in.

After looking east and west down the street, her spirits dropped. What little foot traffic there was streamed into Bernice's Bakery just down the road.

How to lure them away?

Pulling her Magic Marker from her apron pocket, she added an arrow to the message, hefted the sign, and staggered down the sidewalk to the corner across from the bakery, praying she didn't slip on any stray ice.

“Free?” a bearded construction-worker type asked.

“Yep.”

He glanced at Bernice's. “Got anything to eat? Muffin or something?”

“Chocolate.”

“Not really a breakfast food.” He laughed.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I'll give you hot chocolate
and
a piece of fudge to have with your lunch.”

“It's a deal.” With another glance at the bakery, he followed her into the shop.

Once he'd had the hot chocolate, he thanked her and promised he'd be back later in the week to pick up something for Valentine's Day.

He was followed by a steady, if slow, trickle of early morning workers. Many asked for muffins or croissants to go with their hot chocolate. She handed each a piece of chocolate for lunch.

Shivers went up and down her spine. She was going to be a success!

By the time Julie arrived in the late morning for her shift, the fudge was almost gone and so was Sue Anne's enthusiasm.

“Well, I've learned how to
give
chocolate away,” she said, “but I don't think that's a viable business plan.”

“Probably not,” Julie said.

“They all want breakfast.” She poured herself another cup of coffee. Hot chocolate was okay for the masses, but she needed something to cut the bitter sweetness that permeated her from head to toe.

“What about chocolate chip muffins?” Julie asked, grabbing her own cup.

“You mean bake them ourselves?”

“Why not?”

“It's an idea. Chocolate croissants would be nice, too.”

“I can make a muffin, but a croissant is a whole different story.”

“They can't be that hard, can they?”

Julie pulled out her smart phone and typed. “Ugh. Labor intensive.”

“So is everything else we do.” Sue Anne looked at the empty shop. “Besides, if we have this many customers, there'll be plenty of time.”

“True. Think your buddy will come in today?”

“Who?” Sue Anne said, even though she knew exactly who her friend meant. She straightened the doilies that covered the top of the display cases, glass trays of chocolate confections covering them.

“Your hunky officer.”

“I dunno.” She shrugged her shoulders, trying to deny the memories of the kiss they'd shared the previous week. Just like the kiss at the airport, it had been followed by a quick wave, departure, and silence, almost like he was running away.

Was Zach afraid of her? Or commitment?

She shoved the thought from her mind. If she didn't get customers, she'd have bigger problems to handle than a flip-flop guy. She'd invested everything she had in this building and business. If it failed, she'd have to go back to Texas and submit herself to her mother's plan.

Not happening.

“We need more fudge,” she said. “Do you want to do it or wait on our nonexistent customers?”

“Oh, I'll keep busy,” Julie said. “You can handle the front.” She put her hand on Sue Anne's arm. “It'll get better. It's a freezing cold Monday in February, no one knows we're here, and it's only the first morning. People will be back. Especially for Valentine's Day.”

“I hope so.”

“They will be back.” Julie squeezed her arm. “I'm going to make fudge.”

Sue Anne's shoulders sagged a little as she stared through the window at the empty street. Julie was right. It was a gray winter day, the kind that inspired Edgar Allen Poe stories.

Shaking off her lethargy, she pulled out her phone. There had to be some groups she could join to get the word out. She stopped when she found a businesswomen's group that met once a month and the cost was manageable. The next meeting was Wednesday, the day before Valentine's Day.

It was worth a shot.

• • •

“Welcome to Missoula Women in Business!” a tall woman in high heels said as Sue Anne approached the door to the hotel ballroom. “Are you new to the area?”

Sue Anne put on her professional smile.

“I've been here since freshman year at the university. I'm here because I've just opened a new business, and I want to spread the word.”

“Oh. Fantastic. What kind of new business?”

“Sweets Montana. I make chocolate.”

“Great. Come on in and find a seat.” The woman's attention went to the next person in line.

Women and a few men buzzed around her with smiles and hugs. The muted gray ballroom was packed with round tables, and a buffet table lined the back wall where women already stood in line.

Seat first? Food?

“Hi,” a heavy-set woman said. “I don't think I've seen you here before. My name is Liz.” She put her hand out.

Sue Anne took in the brightly colored outfit, mass of reddish hair, mosaic glasses, and warm smile, and immediately took her hand. “I'm Sue Anne Devereaux. I make chocolate.”

Not very professional.

“Oooh. Chocolate. My favorite. Why don't you sit here with me?”

Sue Anne allowed herself to be guided to a nearby table. Liz took her under her wing, made introductions, and walked with her to the buffet table, introducing her to every person on the way.

Her cheeks aching from smiling, she felt more at ease as she climbed the few steps to the podium to give her introductory speech. Oohs and ahs emanated from the audience when she mentioned what she did.

Head held high, she strode back to her seat, where a new woman had joined the group at the table.

Brittany Johnson lived up to Sue Anne's image of a moneyed LA princess down to the blond hair and porcelain skin, and she wasn't surprised to learn the Realtor had spent most of her life in California.

“The best chocolate shop in the world is on Rodeo Drive. Have you ever been to it?” Brittany asked after Sue Anne explained what she did.

“No, I grew up in Texas before moving to Missoula for college.”

“Welcome,” Brittany said, handing her a card. “I don't know your living situation, but I'd love to help you out with your realty needs.”

“Thank you.”

“When's your opening?” Liz asked.

“We're open right now—kind of a soft launch—no big promotion.” She passed around her cards. “I invite everyone to stop in for a free sample.”

“Can I have your attention, please?” The woman who had greeted her at the door was at the microphone. “My name is Melissa Anton, and I'm president of this organization.” She introduced the speaker, a woman from the heart association.

Sue Anne vaguely listened while scanning the room, looking to see if there was anyone she knew. Missoula might be a city, but it was still a small town in the way most Montana cities were. The chances of running into someone you knew were high.