A Valentine's Wish. Betsy St. Amant
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make the senior church staff—and him—very, very happy.
His lips spread in a slow smile. “Actually, yes. I think I am all right now.”
Chapter Three
Lori drew a deep breath of chocolate-scented air and closed her eyes. Tuesday. A new day, a fresh start, a second chance to succeed.
Or fail miserably.
Her eyes popped open. She had to think positively—surely her second day would be better than the first. The part-time worker, Summer Pierce, would be there after noon to help run the register and bag orders. Besides, Lori now knew what Mr. Grouchy’s “usual” was, and she’d won more rounds than she’d lost with the coffeemaker. It couldn’t get any harder than that, right?
The sound of Monny’s melodic humming from the kitchen lightened her mood, and Lori swayed in rhythm as she fanned Bella’s signature pink and black napkins on the counter. She’d taken interior-design classes in college, and she really appreciated Bella’s decorating skills. Everything in the shop blended, but didn’t match. That was important in drawing the eye and creating an environment.
Lori’s eyes narrowed as she took in the room. Had Bella ever considered selling other coordinating products in her store? The setup was perfect for merchandise. Pink and black mugs, for example, or mini stuffed animals carrying bags of chocolate. Even logo purses would probably sell, if done in the shop’s signature colors.
She reached for a pad of paper under the register and a pencil. Maybe she could jot down a few ideas to mention once Bella came back. Or better yet, create a pro/con list to show Bella how well her ideas would work.
“Lori, mi cara!”
Lori jerked at her name, still not used to it being followed by Monny’s ever-present “my dear” tag. “Coming!” She dropped the pad and pencil and pushed through the swinging kitchen door. Much as she hated to admit it, Monny’s attention the last two days had soothed the raw spot left from Jason’s betrayal, and the ache from Andy’s lack of interest. If a cute Italian chef was possibly attracted to her, who cared what her ex or her best friend thought, right?
She hurried into the kitchen. Monny stood over a giant pot of churning ingredients. “I’m making fudge. Will you stir this while I check on the sponge cake? Prego?”
“Sure.” She took the long wooden spoon and ran it through the white mixture. “What’s in here?”
Monny donned an oven mitt. “Sugar, milk, vanilla…and a secret ingredient or two.” He yanked open the oven door with a smile. “Bella would not be happy if I told.”
Lori stirred the thickening concoction faster, trying to ignore the twinge of hurt in her stomach. She couldn’t exactly blame Bella for not trusting her with the shop’s secrets. It was enough she trusted Lori with the store itself. Besides, it wasn’t Bella who refused to tell her, just Monny doing what he thought was the proper thing. Right?
Her thoughts trailed off. The oven door shut, and Monny called instructions over the sound of the kitchen’s whirring exhaust fan. “And add the chocolate, in the bowl to your left.”
Lori jerked back to attention. She grabbed the mixing bowl, full of chopped chocolate pieces, and added it to the boiling mixture in the pot. She stirred harder, hoping Monny hadn’t noticed her zoning out. Not that she was trying to impress him—was she? She chewed her bottom lip, the spoon slowing in her hand. She hadn’t been on a date in so long she’d forgotten the rules of flirting. It was all Andy’s fault. If he’d just paid attention to her in the way she wanted him to, instead of being such an oblivious guy, maybe they could have—
“Watch out!”
Monny’s warning cry came too late. Thick chocolate bubbles popped. Lori shrieked. Chocolate sprayed, barely missing her face. She stepped back, wielding the wooden spoon. The thick mixture dripped off the edge of the spoon and onto her clothing. She shrieked again as the warmth seeped through her thin sweater.
“Hot!” Lori fanned her shirt away from her body. The spoon clattered to the floor. Monny ran toward the pot as more bubbles popped. He ducked as one splattered the oven backsplash, and reached for the burner. Another bubble burst and sprayed his wrist. He mumbled in Italian and turned off the burner. His other hand with the oven mitt moved the steaming pot away from the heat.
Monny turned to Lori, chocolate coating his apron. He slowly took off the mitt, his chest expanding as he drew a deep breath. “Mi cara, I said to remove from heat before adding the chocolate.”
“Oops.” Lori felt a flush creep up her neck. Or maybe it was just the result of her hot-chocolate dance. “I must not have heard that part. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. It will be—what do you say?—Saveable.”
“Salvageable?”
“Si.” Monny picked up the spoon from the floor and tossed it into the deep stainless-steel sink. The corners of his lips crinkled into a smile. “One disaster averted. Let’s see if we can make this fudge—”
“The cake!” Lori gestured wildly to the oven behind Monny, where smoke started to seep from the edges.
Monny grabbed the oven mitt again and wrenched open the door. Smoke billowed. He hefted the pan from inside, and it landed on the counter with a clatter. The chocolate batter had bubbled over onto the oven rack and burned. He stared listlessly at the hardened, crusty shell of what was supposed to be one of the Chocolate Gator’s best-selling products.
Lori waved one hand at the dissipating smoke and coughed. “Maybe we can still sell it and call it Cajun?”
Andy stared at the pen in his hand, willing it to obey. “Write. Something, anything—just write!” But no words formed on the card lying on his desk. Big surprise. Penning thoughts to your good friend turned best friend turned love interest wasn’t exactly easy.
He dropped the pen with a groan and flopped back in his office chair. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Last night, sitting in his recliner and flipping channels on the TV, the concept of sending secret gifts seemed ingenious. Surely it’d break the ice between him and Lori and warm her up to the idea of being more than friends. Hey, it worked for the guy in the Lifetime movie, didn’t it? But now it just seemed ridiculous. Lori said herself a year ago that she was through with the dating game after her ex-fiancé hurt her so badly.
The church staff was being unfair. Like finding true love was so easy. Like discovering the one person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with was this no-big-deal, everyday occurrence. Maybe he should forget the idea of finding a woman and remove himself from the game as Lori had done. Being a bachelor wasn’t that bad—although he could stand a home-cooked meal or two. And someone to remind him not to leave wet towels on the bedroom carpet so his room wouldn’t smell so moldy the next day. And it wouldn’t be awful to have someone to fight with over leaving the toothpaste cap off or whose turn it was to wash dishes or how much spice to put in the jambalaya.
But was it worth this kind of headache?
He grabbed a Hershey’s Kiss from the bowl on his counter—the bowl he kept for Lori when she was hanging out at the church—and let his eyes drift back to the greeting card in front of him. It was catchy and corny, just Lori’s thing. Two grinning cartoon characters with big moony eyes, one shooting pulsing heart beams toward the other with a bow and arrow. The text read Cupid Ain’t Got Nothing on Me. But what could he write underneath? And wouldn’t she recognize his handwriting?
The guy in the movie hadn’t had these kinds of problems.
Andy raked one hand through his hair. At least the bouquet of daisies and stargazer lilies would be a winner. Lori told him a year ago that lilies were her favorite flower because she figured they were God’s favorite, too. When he questioned her reasoning, she simply said a flower that smelled that strongly was obviously trying to waft its aroma toward Heaven.
He sniffed and fought a sneeze.