“Noted.” The man nods. He rubs his hands together as he approaches the counter. “But first, ice cream. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
My heart blooms. Someone’s wanted Brain Freeze ice cream all day. Not Fudgeballs’ chocolate.Myhandmade ice cream. I tuck that away to lean on later when there’s a lull in business.
The family slides into a booth not far from the counter as I rinse scoops and wash my hands. The children giggle and squirm in their seats as they lick their cones. The woman dips a spoon into her espresso ice cream and savors the bite. She jabs at the ice cream as she swallows.
“You know what would be good with this?” She turns to the man, offering him a bite. “A fudge brownie.”
"You're right. We should bring a cooler to take a few pints home next time." He raises his voice an octave, clearly diverting his attention to me. "Do you sell pints?"
It isn’t something I’d considered before. I’ve always thought of Brain Freeze as an experience, not takeout. But there’s a first for everything.
“Absolutely.” I’m hasty with an answer that sends my brain scrambling. “Check back next time you’re in town. Just waiting on containers.”
So I fudge a little. I don't have containers on the way, but ordering some for quick delivery can't be difficult. Takeout pints won't save Brain Freeze, but they could put a dent in the debt I'm drowning in.
The couple's idle chit-chat takes my mood on a rollercoaster ride. They want ice cream and fudge. Brain Freeze and Fudgeballs. I'm in a pickle with bills due, but have I been looking at things all wrong? I wouldn't give someone else credit for Brain Freeze's success. It's equally unfair to blame someone else for its failure.
When closing time rolls around, it’s time to get with the program and make progress instead of problems.
There's work to be done and a window to decorate. Making peace with my sexy neighbor isn't a bad idea either.If he’ll give me the time of day, that is.
***
Sebastian
A rap on the front door comes a little after closing. I slide the last tray of truffles into the overnight cooler and call out to the late visitor. It’s cold out, and I promised Mr. Jack hot cocoa.
“Be right there.”
I grab a kitchen towel from a rack and wipe melted chocolate shavings from my hands as I skirt around the counter to the front door. It's close to dusk, with heavy clouds hanging low in the early evening sky. Temperatures plummeted a little after noon as unexpected flurries blew in with the breeze.
I slow my stride momentarily as I take in the sight of the person waiting outside. It’s most certainly not Mr. Jack.
I recognize the backside of the short green skirt and candy cane tights. Trembling legs shift back and forth, brushing knees and thighs against one another. Her hips and ass wiggle in tandem. I unlock the door as she spins around with a raised fist, ready to knock on the glass again.
She draws her brows together, and a perfect pair of backward parenthesis creases between them. Her lips thin when she shivers.
“May I come in, or are you going to make me stand out here and freeze to death?” Strands of long blonde hair whirl in the wind and catch in her mouth. “We need to talk.”
It's difficult to read her expression. We've barely met, and it wasn't under the best circumstances. And seldom do the wordswe need to talksegue into something promising. When a woman begins a conversation this way, it usually means they're doing all the talking. There's a good chance it's the last conversation she plans to have with me.
I hold the door open, hoping she doesn't sucker punch me in the gut. She shoves her hands into her fluffy midriff coat pockets as she squeezes past me. Her hair tickles across my chin as she swishes by.
I inhale, capturing the scent of sweet peppermint lingering in her hair. My breath catches in my throat as the faintest taste of her settles on my tongue. The sensory experience is fleeting, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
“Hmm...” She tilts her head as she takes in the shop’s interior.
I wait patiently, proud as a peacock at how far Fudgeballs has come. I’ve preserved Nana’s original concept for Fudgeballs while making it my own. I’m proud of the direction the business is moving.
“So, this is what all the hubbub’s about? I expected...more.” She flashes me a cocky, satisfied grin.
Her grumpy demeanor got the better of me earlier, but I've had time to mull things over. We're on the cusp of the Christmas season. It's a time for giving and kindness, as Kinsey mentioned in the letter from the mayor's office.
Besides, I have enough holiday spirit for both of us. I’m happy to sprinkle a little cheer her way. I’ll have her singing“fa la la”with jingle bells on by the time Christmas rolls around.
“You just missed the good stuff. Everything’s stored for the night. Would you like a tour of the kitchen and staging area?”
Slow and steady.Nana’s words of wisdom guide me. I’ll win Sophie with kindness if it kills me.