The Man Most Likely. Cindi Myers
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a third of what I do is either busywork or corporate BS.A lot of paperwork.”
“I suppose every job has boring aspects like that,” she said. “Even working for myself I have to do taxes and stuff.”
“It’s a trade-off, I guess,” he said as they walked to her car. “We do what we have to in order to get what we want.”
And what do you want, Bryan? It was a loaded question, one she didn’t feel she knew him well enough to ask. Besides, if rumors were correct, there would be a picket fence in his future. And given his initial reaction to her—even though he’d warmed considerably since then—she suspected she didn’t fill that role any more than the other leading roles she left to others.
ON A FROSTY but sunny morning in early March, Angela, Bryan, Zephyr and Zephyr’s cameraman—a silent, freckle-faced young guy named Brix—met at the Chocolate Moose to shoot footage for The Z Hour. It was Bryan’s first visit to the shop, though he’d passed it hundreds of times on his way to Max’s snowboard store.
The rich aromas of chocolate and vanilla greeted him as soon as he entered the large front room. A handful of small tables and chairs were arranged in front of a long, glass display case filled with cakes, cookies and candies. Twin coffee and cocoa urns flanked the cash register, and a large moose head, adorned with sunglasses and a lei, looked out over the scene.
“You and Zephyr can put these on,” Angela said. She handed them each aprons.
Bryan unfolded his and studied a cartoon of a grinning moose. “The best things in life are chocolate,” he read.
“I don’t know about that,” Zephyr said, tying on his apron. “What about rock and roll? Or sex? Or beer?”
“In my shop, the best thing in life is chocolate,” she asserted.
Bryan could have argued with that. He liked chocolate well enough, but found the woman before him much more interesting than her candies. Beneath her own apron she wore a red turtleneck sweater, dark jeans and black leather boots with tall heels—clothes that emphasized her curves and height.
“Do you have one of those hat things, too?” Zephyr asked. “A toucan or whatever it’s called?”
“A toque. Here you go.” She handed the two men tall, paper chef’s hats, then donned her own headgear.
“Sweet!” Zephyr admired himself in the mirror, then turned to Brix and gave him a thumbs up. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
While Brix and Zephyr conferred, Bryan sidled over to Angela. He leaned in close enough to smell her vanilla-and-spice perfume. “Do I have this hat on right?” he asked.
“You look great.” Pitched slightly above a whisper, her sultry voice sent heat straight through him.
“Quiet on the set!” Zephyr bellowed, loud enough to make Angela jump. The manic blond grabbed an electric guitar, played a loud fanfare, then grinned at the camera. “Welcome to The Z Hour. I’m Zephyr and every week I bring you the hippest and hottest happenings of Crested Butte and beyond. Today we’re at the Chocolate Moose, visiting with the owner, Angela Krizova. Also joining us is Bryan Perry of the Elevation Hotel at Crested Butte Mountain Resort. The two of them are going to show us how to make chocolate truffles and talk about the fund-raiser they’re coordinating at the Elevation Hotel to benefit the Mountain Theatre community theater group here in C.B. Take it away, Angela.”
He swung around and pointed the neck of the guitar at her. Though Bryan’s stomach was doing backflips at the thought of appearing on camera, Angela was as serene as if she did this every day of the week. Obviously her acting experience helped. She smiled for the camera and said, “Thanks, Zephyr. Today, I’m going to show you how I make my sinfully delicious dark chocolate truffles.”
“What makes them so sinful?” Zephyr asked.
“The chocolate is so rich and sweet and sensuous—” she lowered her voice to an intimate tease “—one bite and I think you’ll agree that anything so good has to be a little bit naughty.”
“What do you think about that, Bryan?” Zephyr asked.
Bryan sucked in a deep breath and tried to look calm. Focusing on Angela instead of the camera helped. “I think Angela wants to lead us astray,” he said.
She smirked. “You men are so easily led.” She moved a bowl to the center of the counter and uncovered it. “Come over here and I’ll show you what to do. First, wash your hands.”
They dutifully washed and dried their hands, then arranged themselves on either side of her at the counter. “This bowl contains chocolate ganache,” she explained, scooping out several clumps of glossy, dark goo. “It’s made with cream and chocolate shavings. I’ve refrigerated it so it’s thick enough to be shaped. So start by pinching up a little ganache and rolling it into a ball in your palms.”
She demonstrated, and Zephyr and Bryan attempted to copy her. Angela made it look easy, but the ganache immediately stuck to Bryan’s hands and refused to form any kind of sphere.
Angela had six little balls lined up on the counter in front of her by the time she noticed the two men had made no progress at all. “Having problems?” she asked.
“It’s tougher than it looks,” Bryan said. He frowned at the gloppy mass of chocolate in his hand.
“It’s sticky,” Zephyr said. He licked chocolate off his fingers. “But it tastes good.”
“You’re being too rough,” she scolded. She scooped up a fresh bit of ganache and demonstrated the technique again. “You want to roll it lightly and work quickly. Think of the chocolate as being like a woman.”
The men exchanged glances. “How is chocolate like a woman?” Zephyr asked. “Is this a new joke?”
“No, it’s not a joke.” She shaped another sphere. “This chocolate is like a woman because with the right gentle touch it becomes pliable and smooth. But apply too much pressure or allow too much heat to build up and it won’t cooperate at all.”
“So the secret is knowing how to touch it,” Bryan asked. No woman had ever complained about his skills as a lover before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn something new. He copied Angela’s movements once more, getting it right this time.
“That’s good.” She leaned closer to examine his efforts. “Coax it into the right shape.”
Zephyr had abandoned trying to shape the chocolate into spheres and was busy making a pile of irregular pellets. “What are you doing?” Bryan asked.
“Moose droppings,” Zephyr said, and popped one into his mouth.
Angela slapped his hand away. “Maybe you’d better just watch.” She set the bowl of ganache aside and reached for a second bowl in which sat a flour sifter. “Next, we’ll cover the balls with powdered cocoa. This helps to set the shape.” She cranked the handle of the sifter and a cloud of cocoa drifted over the ganache.
“You finish them,” she said, and handed the sifter to Bryan. While he cranked, she turned the balls over until they were coated on all sides.
“Now what?” Zephyr asked. “Is it time to eat them?”
“No.” She slapped his hand away once more. “Now we coat them in a chocolate glaze.” She retrieved two more bowls from the counter behind her. “I have a white chocolate glaze and a dark chocolate glaze. Simply dip a truffle in the glaze, set it aside to dry, and you’re done.”
“That looks really messy,” Bryan said as he watched her dip the chocolates by hand.
“It is. That’s half the fun. It’s about experiencing the chocolate fully—sensually, from its creation to the last luscious, melting bite.”
After this show aired, she’d probably have a line out the door