Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop. Kellie Hailes
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‘Salt. Also obviously.’
Three fingers.
‘And something else… it reminds me of…’ His mind touched on it, but surely not? It couldn’t be.
‘Steaming hot days, balmy nights… tonnes of tostadas, gob-loads of guacamole.’ Serena’s grin broadened, her chest puffed out with pride.
‘Tequila. That’s the last ingredient.’ Ritchie confirmed. ‘It’s like our honeymoon in a chocolate.’
‘I know, right?’ Serena scooted a chair over and sat in front of him. ‘That was such a good time. If it were possible to drink a country dry of tequila I think we very well nearly did it.’
‘And you made this?’ Ritchie popped the remaining part of the chocolate into his mouth and finished it off.
‘Of course. It’s part of a range I’m creating. Inspired by…’ She paused, her face flushing, the redness racing down her neck towards her chest.
‘Inspired by what, Serena?’ Warmth flooded Ritchie’s stomach. He had a feeling he knew what she was about to say, but he wanted to hear it from her.
She hesitated and her eyes softened. ‘Inspired by my life with you.’ She shook her head ever so slightly. Her eyes brightened once more as she sprung up and bounced towards the fridge. ‘I’ve also got plans to utilise what goodness we create here in Rabbits Leap to further showcase the town. I’m currently working on chocolates infused with the butcher’s homemade cheese. And of course, there’s the milk from our farm. Remember that gourmet chocolate milk we tucked into while you were touring in New Zealand? Best hangover cure ever. So I thought, why couldn’t I do that?’ She pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge, grabbed two glasses, placed them in front of Ritchie and emptied the milk into them. ‘I made my own version of chocolate syrup, combined it with milk from our farm, and it’s pretty good. Well, I think it is.’ She skipped back to the fridge, pulled out a squeeze bottle, bounded back and began to pour a vanilla pod-coloured liquid into the milk, which she mixed in with a spoon.
‘How did you come up with all of this? All these ideas?’ Ritchie leaned forward and watched as the creamy milk swirled through the syrup, transforming into the colour of raw umber.
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