Sweet Tooth: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

“I can push a car,” I said thinly. He laughed.

  “I believe it. I just thought that, since we were here, we'd do it instead. Right?”

  I had consented to let him push the car and he and Max, the chauffeur, had done the job effortlessly.

  “Say,” Des said when the three of us – me, her and the stunning guy – stood looking at each other awkwardly, “if you're not busy, why not come with us?”

  “Des...” I'd begun, feeling my cheeks flare with embarrassment. But he had laughed, interrupting me.

  “I would love to. Um...where are you going?”

  I had laughed. “We were just going out for a drink,” I said.

  “We were going to Papa Joe's,” my friend said, once again embarrassing me profoundly. Did she have to mention that we were going to celebrate at one of the less-salubrious bars in the student area? This guy had probably never seen such a place, much less visited it.

  “Oh,” he said. “Well, I don't know much about that kind of thing. Is it a club?”

  Des and I had both started laughing. “Not exactly,” I said between laughs.

  “Oh. Well, I'd love to find out more,” he said hopefully.

  I looked at Des and she looked at me. “Um...” I began.

  “Of course, we could always just go to the hotel bar,” he said.

  “Much better idea,” Des said quickly. I looked at her, dismayed. She was really suggesting that I go into the Forrey Hotel with torn jeans and a slightly grayed-out gauze tunic?

  “Well, then,” our hero smiled. “Let's go. I'm Drew, by the way,” he said with an embarrassed grin. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Des,” Des said. “It's short for Desrae.”

  “Alexandra,” I said. He looked into my eyes and smiled.

  “It's lovely to meet you, Alexandra.”

  That was it. Our first meeting. We has a few drinks, me drinking just some sweet lemonade and chatted. Des had soon ended up talking to another group, leaving us alone together. We'd exchanged numbers. I hadn't expected him to call me the next day, but he had.

  We'd dated for a year. Then, after that party at the Gracewell Hotel, when his uncle had met me, everything changed. He had walked out of my life then and now, suddenly, he had walked back into it. Unexpectedly, like when he'd first entered.

  Just like then, I had no idea how to make sense of it at all.

  “Sorry to disturb,” a voice said timidly from behind me, shattering my reverie.

  “What, Kelsey?” I asked, turning around quickly, a spoon with batter on it still in my hand.

  “Um...I was just wondering if you could show me how the filling thingy works? For the croissants? I have two orders, and...”

  “Oh! Hell. So sorry, Kelsey. I was miles away. I'll come now...”

  I dropped the spoon back into the mixture and hurried to the front to fill the croissants. Kelsey watched me and by the end of the first one she was filling like a pro. I grinned into her innocent young face. Her eyes shone.

  “That's great,” I praised. “A few more like that and you're the Croissant Filling Champion.”

  She giggled. “Thanks, Ms. H.”

  “No problem.”

  I returned to the back of the kitchen where I was stirring my mixture. I sighed to myself. If only all problems were that easy to solve. But this matter of Drew, and what I was supposed to think now he was back in my life, was just so much more complicated than that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Drew

  I spent a restless afternoon at the charity tea. I had come because it seemed like a good way to get to know people in the town and my uncle would have said that getting to know the people was like an investment. Then again, he said that about a lot of things.

  I think he doesn't think about anything without framing it in terms of commerce and cash.

  “Mr. Liston?”

  “Yes?” I turned to face the polite inquiry behind me.

  “You gave an interesting speech on Wednesday. I wanted to ask you about...”

  As the man detailed what he wanted to know from me – a fairly straightforward question about out policy for the Safetrans initiative – I found myself feeling restless.

  I want to get to the table and try one of those scones.

  There was something compelling – and yes, sexy – about sampling her baking. I couldn't quite believe that I never had. Somehow, the thought of sinking my teeth into those sweet fragrant morsels made me wish I was sinking my teeth into something else. Like somewhere between her soft, pale thighs.

  I shivered and tried to blank out the memories of Allie. Especially the ones of her without clothes. Especially the ones of her without clothes on my bed. I choked. Arousal tends to do that to me; close my throat up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I managed to wheeze. The town mayor was giving me an odd look. “Sorry,” I added. “Didn't mean to alarm. Throat just closed up. Does that,” I added, coughing and accepting a glass of water from an usher who gave me a worried frown.

  “Good,” the mayor looked relieved. “I mean, good that it's not serious,” he added gravely.

  “Not at all,” I murmured. I cleared my throat, my voice coming back to me.

  “It's a good tea, yes?” he commented. “A great turnout.”

  “It is,” I nodded. “Very good indeed.”

  We stood exchanging pleasantries while my mind was completely elsewhere. I was fighting to think of something – anything – other than Allie. We were progressing up to the counter now and I reached for a cupcake, unable to resist.

  “These look good,” the mayor said approvingly.

  “They do,” I nodded. I had an idea. As my mouth opened and consumed a vast bite of the delicious, sweet creation, I realized something. Someone here would know the name of the business.

  “These are good,” he nodded.

  “Mm,” I commented. I was still chewing, my eyes closed. The sweetness and chocolate flavoring were making me think, in the best way, of Allie. The way it felt to lie on her. The way her body pressed up into mine. The sweet softness of her ass-cheeks, plump and firm, in my hands.

  “I should find out who ordered these,” the mayor nodded.

  “You should,” I said stiffly, swallowing hard, my throat closing with the sugary sweetness.

  “I'll ask the usher. Hello?”

  “Yes, sir?” the usher said with a deferential inclining of the head.

  “I wonder if you could tell me...where do these come from?” he asked, indicating the tray with the peach-and-white cupcakes on.

  “Dunno, sir.” The usher scratched his head, frankly. “I'll ask Carla for you, sir.” He indicated a woman in the corner by the amplifiers, whom I recognized as the woman Allie had spoken with earlier.

  “Don't worry about it,” the mayor said grandly. “It's not important. Just that they're very good.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “They are.”

  I waited until we'd finished chatting about trivial things and then I headed over to Carla. I had to know about Allie's business. If nothing else, I thought mischievously, I could sample more baking she'd done while I was there.

  “Uh, excuse me?” I said to Carla.

  “Um. Hi, sir,” she said cautiously. “Can I help?”

  “I hope so,” I said with my most ingratiating smile. “The bakery that made those...um...the cupcakes. What's the name of it?”

  “Sugarlips,” she said, then blushed. “I mean, that's the name of the bakery. The Sugarlips bakery.”

  Sugarlips.

  Just the name made my loins struggle. I thought of Allie and those sweet red lips, the ones I wanted to push my tongue into and plunge into her mouth... As my mind took flight I abruptly remembered where I was.

  “Thanks,” I said, coughing awkwardly. “It's very good.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, giving me an odd look. “I know. I found them earlier this month and decided I had to order something... even in a town like this, they're good.”r />
  “Yes,” I agreed. “They are.”

  I chatted a bit and headed off to the refreshments table again, tempted to take another pass at the cupcakes. I chuckled to myself. I looked down at my watch. It was five P.M. I wondered if there was any chance of her being at work now.

  The party was starting to thin out and I considered excusing myself early. I went to look for the mayor and checked my phone as I did so.

  By the time I'd excused myself and was heading out to my car I'd found the bakery on Google and was ready to head down there.

  “A friendly and stylish bakery just at the edge of the business district,” I read aloud from the description on her small website. I smiled to myself. Friendly and stylish. Sounded about right.

  I put my foot on the gas and headed onto the main road. The traffic was getting heavy and I started to worry that I wouldn't get there on time. The closing-time was six, but would she still be at the business when I arrived?

  Even if she wasn't, at least I'd have seen it. Somehow, I couldn't help the fact that I was curious. If the things she brought for the tea were anything to go on she was really, very good. And I wanted to know what she'd done with her life.

  I don't even know if she's married now.

  The thought struck me as hard as a blow might have done. I hadn't actually considered it. Which was ridiculous, thinking about it. I mean, I'm thirty-five. If she's not married now I'll really be surprised.

  Who wouldn't marry her, after all? She was a great person, a stunning woman and resourceful and talented and...

  Who wouldn't marry her, except you? You numbskull. You could have had everything... coward.

  I was so busy berating myself that I only noticed the lights had changed when the driver behind me honked impatiently.

  “Okay, okay... I'm just going,” I said under my breath. I put my foot on the gas and headed off, following my instructions from my GPS.

  “Destination will be on your right. Like hell it will. My right?”

  I was swearing at the GPS, a sure sign I was nervous. I looked out of the right-most window, drawing in a deep breath to compose myself. My eyes fell on a peach sign with black and white letters, decorated with black and white polka-dots. A big stylized pair of lips with little flecks of white adorned the sign on the left: the logo.

  Sugarlips Cafe and Pastry Shop.

  “Here we are.”

  I drove round the block to find parking and then hastened up the street. It had started to rain during the drive and the sidewalks were slippery with damp. I almost slipped once and straightened myself, heading round the corner.

  I stopped at the vast glass window. It was closed.

  I felt a sudden stab of sadness. I don't know what I had expected – maybe they would just by some weird off-chance be open late today? It was twenty-five minutes past six and they were shut.

  “Oh. Well.”

  I looked around. I could see tables and chairs through the window, a pretty sign with a nice quote on it in retro-style lettering, pink and white curtains. It was all pretty and stylish, just like the description on the web expressed.

  I just wish it was open.

  I looked on the outside for a phone-number, but there was only a web address and an email for reservations. I took note of it anyway, not sure what I could do to get in touch with her with the limited information I had.

  I can't exactly make a reservation for tea. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow.

  The thought made my heart stop. If I was going to make amends with Allie, I would have to do it soon.

  I had one chance left. That was tomorrow.

  I turned and walked off. As I turned to the corner to head up to the parking, I had a sudden urge to turn left instead. I don't usually ignore these things when they happen – one thing uncle taught me that was actually useful was to obey any hunch – and I headed down the alley on my left.

  I was just wondering why my instincts would have led me into a fairly unpleasant and smelly alley round the back of all the hotels, when I heard something. A gate had just opened and someone had walked out. I stared at them.

  With her somber black shirt and slacks, I almost missed her in the growing dark of the alleyway. She was wearing high-heels that clicked on the road-surface and alerted me to her presence, and she had an apron over one arm. Her long dark hair was loose around her shoulders and shone with a soft gloss in the lamplight.

  It was Allie.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Allie

  “Oh.”

  I stared.

  It was Drew.

  What the heck was he doing here? At six-thirty, in the backstreet by my shop? Dressed like he was here to receive an Oscar award? My heart thumped and it wasn't just surprise that did it. If I was absolutely honest, it was exciting to see him here today.

  “Allie,” he said. The way he breathed my name – so sweet and so desperate – made my toes curl in my shoes. I shivered and let the sweetness of that wash over me. All the same. I wasn't about to make matters easy for him. He still had a phenomenal amount of explaining to do.

  “Hi,” I said. I pushed the dumpster into the corner – I wasn't going to let him upset my Friday evening routine – and walked over. “Can I help you?”

  “Allie. I just wanted to, well, see your place. It's great,” he said. His face was somewhere between hesitation and anguish and I actually felt sorry for him. Not so sorry, though. Not sorry enough to wash away years of anger.

  “Well, then,” I said distantly. “You've seen it. So what're you doing here?” Hell, being close to him made it hard to keep myself aloof. I could see those strong, muscled shoulders and could almost smell his spicy, musk scent. I breathed deeply and looked over his shoulder at the distant outline of the buildings.

  “I wanted to see you,” he said softly.

  I raised a brow. “Oh,” I said. It was easy, suddenly, to be mad at him. “Oh, that's nice,” I said sarcastically. “That isn't what you said six years ago, now is it?”

  “Allie, please?” he said softly. There was anguish in the depth of those brown eyes and I chose to ignore it, almost ten years of pain bubbling up inside me like a flood I couldn't hold at bay.

  “No, Drew,” I exploded. “No. You're a jerk. You treated me like I was worthless. And now you expect me to welcome you back? No way.” I jerked away as he held out a hand and marched past him, heading for my car.

  “Allie. Wait...”

  He was trying to outpace me. I walked fast but he still reached the car before me – just. I sighed as he stood in front of the driver's seat.

  “Move. Drew. Please?” I sighed. “I don't want to go into this. It's been so long...” suddenly, the iceberg of my rage was turning into the puddle of hurt it had been before I froze it. I just felt tired. And sad. And too weak and worn and weary to confront anyone. Especially not him.

  “Allie,” he said softly. He put a hand out to take my wrist and this time I let him touch it. The evening was chilly, still, and his touch warmed my wrist through the black wool gloves I wore. “Please. Let's talk?”

  I sighed. “Drew, what about? I’m sure you said all that needed to be said, six years ago. What more is there?”

  “A lot more, Allie,” he said, voice strained. “A lot.”

  “Well, it can't hurt,” I said. “You got time now? I can hear it. Carry on.”

  He looked around uncomfortably. We were in the middle of a back alley, complete with dumpsters and damp and an unpleasant smell. The clouds had returned and the air was cuttingly cold, despite my jacket and gloves. I could see his point. This wasn't the best place to talk. But if it was so important...

  “Allie? Could we maybe go somewhere? A coffee-shop, or..?”

  I sighed. “Well, we could go to mine. Only it's closed. What do you want to say, Drew? It's getting late and I should be at home. Early start tomorrow.”

  He gave me a desperate look. “Okay,” he said. “Allie. Please. I want to chat. We need to say some stuff. W
ould you let me invite you to dinner? Just tonight? Just to talk? Promise. If I say anything you don't like, you're free to leave.”

  I paused. It was a good offer. And my heart wanted to see him. Oh, how it wanted that! It was my ego that stood in my way, my wounded pride. I could put that aside, for one night. For the sake of my heart.

  “Okay,” I said at last. “I agree. Where should we meet?”

  He grinned and for the first time I saw a slice of the old Drew – the cheeky, confident Drew – shine out like sun between the buildings. “I dunno. You tell me. It's your town. Your industry.”

  I grinned. “Thank you for acknowledging that,” I said pompously. Then I chuckled. “Okay. My recommendation is Uncle's Bistro. I know – it doesn't sound appealing. But it's pretty awesome. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I am in your hands.”

  I felt my heart flip as I looked into those brown eyes. “Okay,” I said. “You're on. If you don't like it, I'll pay. I know the owner.”

  He chuckled. “I missed you,” he said.

  I stared at him. Suddenly, my throat was tight with held tears. I coughed, feeling the tears start to form on my eyelashes. I looked at my hands where they were poised at the car's door-handle.