Dark Chocolate Demise

by Jenn McKinlay

  He looked so tired that she almost relented, but then she remembered that he had walked away from her proposal without even telling her why. Manny had been the one to tell her what was up; for that alone, Mel harbored a chip on her shoulder with all the density of a pound cake.

  “Don’t you ‘Mel’ me,” she said. She pushed around him, snatched his things up, and shoved them at him. “Time to put on your fugitive outfit and git.”

  She didn’t wait for him but strode to the door and unlocked the dead bolt and the door handle. She gave him a pointed look, making her expectation of his imminent departure clear.

  He shook his head as if he knew he would get no further with her. He pressed on his beard, stuffed the pillow in his shirt, and slapped on the cap. He took a moment to scratch Jack’s ears and exchange a head butt. Jack purred deep and long as if pleased that the members of his human-cat pack were all here.

  Mel wanted to hustle him out the door, but the sight of her two boys together took her out at the knees. She’d missed Joe so much. She’d missed this, the three of them together. She missed being a part of a “We be” instead of an “I be,” as in “We be doing this” instead of “I be doing this.”

  And it wasn’t that she couldn’t be alone. Mel did alone alarmingly well. In fact, since she worked with customers all day long, most nights she was more than happy to spend her evenings with no one to talk to except Captain Jack. But Joe, well, she missed him. She missed knowing that at the end of the day there was someone waiting for her. And yeah, she could go out and find a new man, but he wouldn’t be Joe.

  Joe straightened up from snuggling Jack. He turned to look at her, and Mel didn’t like the look in his eyes. It didn’t bode well for her winning the argument.

  He strode towards her, his lanky form well muscled despite the pillow stuffed into his shirt. He stopped right next to her, and his chocolate brown gaze was warm as it studied her face as if trying to memorize the shape of her lips, the length of her eyelashes, and the curve of her cheek. It also made her brain turn to goo.

  Before Mel could register his intent, she was hauled up against him, and he planted a kiss on her that made her light-headed and weak in the knees. She had only a second to note that the rough feel of his faux beard against her skin was kinda hot before he pulled away to look at her.

  “Do you want to know when the first time I noticed you that way was?” he asked.

  Mel swallowed. He was still holding her pressed up against him, and she found her language skills were lost somewhere amidst the sensory overload she had going on. She tried anyway.

  “A year and a half ago,” she guessed. It came out breathier than she intended, but he didn’t seem to mind. She tried to make light of it and added, “Right after we opened the shop, and your sweet tooth led you to your doom.”

  “Wrong,” he said. “The very first time I knew Melanie Cooper was going to cause me a whole lot of trouble was on the family vacation to Cabo. The second night there you and Angie dressed up and snuck out to go clubbing.”

  Mel’s eyes went wide. “I was seventeen. That was back when I was a chunk.”

  Joe cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “You were as beautiful then as you are now, and I almost had a heart attack when you smiled at me from across the club, wearing that too-tight and too-short dress and flirting with men who had bad intentions.”

  Mel was stunned, then she frowned. “You grabbed us and hauled us out of the club and then yelled at us all the way back to the hotel. You tortured us for days, threatening to tell your parents about what we’d done.”

  “I had to keep you in line somehow, didn’t I?” he asked. “Besides, I found the thought of you smiling at any other man the way you smiled at me in the club—disturbing.”

  “You spent the rest of the vacation bird-dogging us,” Mel said. “Angie was furious.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind,” he said.

  She knew what he was doing. He was reeling her in the way he always did, reminding her of how long she had loved him from afar. Per usual, it was fruitless to deny it.

  “No, I didn’t mind,” she said. “Because you already had my heart; I’d been crushing on you for five years by then. Why didn’t you say anything or do anything in Cabo?”

  “Because you were my little sister’s best friend,” he said. “Because right up until Cupid snuck up and shot me in the behind that night, I had always thought of you as another sister. But once I didn’t, I found I couldn’t anymore.”

  “Then you went back to college,” she said.

  “And then you went to college while I was off to law school,” he said.

  “But you never said anything the few times I saw you,” she said.

  “I convinced myself it was just a phase, some temporary Mexico vacation insanity that would pass,” he said. “And then you had that boyfriend. He was a toad.”

  He sounded jealous. Mel smiled.

  “And you had a girlfriend,” she said. “Sal said she looked like a giraffe.”

  “She did,” Joe admitted. He laughed and then he grew serious. “You moved to Los Angeles.”

  “But then I came home.”

  “And I was waiting.”

  Mel leaned forward and rested her head against Joe’s chest. The hurt and anger she’d been hanging on to over the past few weeks was yielding under the old Joe DeLaura razzle-dazzle. Damn him.

  “You’re asking me to wait,” she said.

  “Just one more time, if you’re willing,” he said.

  Mel straightened up and met his gaze. How long could she wait for this man? She felt as if she’d been waiting her whole life, but then, from what he’d told her, she wasn’t the only one. He’d been waiting, too. And didn’t that just charm her stupid.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Joe raised his eyebrows in surprise. She supposed he’d expected her to be more resistant. Silly man.

  “But things have to change,” she said. “You can’t just shut me out of the information loop. If something is going on, like a dangerous case, you have to tell me about it and not just walk away. And you can’t order me to leave town.”

  He nodded as if he was really listening to her. Mel had her doubts, but she was willing to give him a chance. One more chance.

  “All right,” he said. He hugged her close, picking her up off of her feet, and Mel had to fight the urge to wrap herself around him in a hold that strangled. He set her down and added, “You do realize that since you refuse to leave town, I’m going to have to deploy alternate measures to keep you safe.”

  “Huh?” Mel braced herself against the wall as her thinking was still a bit fuzzy from being so near him.

  “You leave me no choice,” he said ominously. He cupped her face and kissed her one more time. It was equal parts tender and possessive, a thorough debauching of her senses, and it left Mel dazed and bewildered and hopeful. “Be careful, cupcake.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Mel fought to get her moorings as he opened the door and with one last soulful look, he left.

  Mel reached out and locked the door behind him, realizing as she did that he had never handed over her key. She noticed her fingers were shaking and her breath was coming in shallow hiccups. Her throat was tight and she was trying not to cry. Now that there was a new understanding between them, she realized how much she hated that he was leaving her—again.

  As if sensing her distress, Captain Jack hopped off of the counter and padded to where she stood by the door. He wound himself around her ankle and let loose a yowl that told her he wasn’t happy with Joe’s departure, either. Then he stood on his hind legs and placed his front feet on her knee, slowly extending his claws to hook into her jeans.

  “Okay, okay,” Mel said. She reached down and scooped up her boy, snuggling him close. As he purred and rubbed agai
nst her, Mel sighed. Then she straightened up and looked at him. “What do you suppose he meant by ‘alternate safety measures’?”

  Captain Jack didn’t say, and the sinking feeling in her stomach was not reassuring.

  Angie slammed through the back door the next morning. She was muttering under her breath, and Mel glanced up from the steel table in the bakery’s kitchen and watched as her friend yanked open the door to their tiny office, threw her purse into the room, and slammed the door shut. The force of her slam caused the door to pop back open and bang off of the wall and slam shut again. This time it stayed shut.

  “Finished?” Mel asked.

  Angie sucked in a breath. It sounded to Mel as if she was trying to take in all of the air in the room. She had known Angie for over twenty years, and she knew that when Angie stood with her shoulders back and her head high, she was in the grip of a powerful temper.

  Mel put down the tiny cookie cutter she’d been using to punch out gerbera daisies in the bright yellow fondant she had rolled out. She considered her friend with the same respect she’d give a wild javelina, should one come barreling into the bakery.

  When it looked like Angie was successfully calming herself down, Mel offered, “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Angie snapped. “Yes. Oh, what’s the point?”

  “You might feel better,” Mel said.

  “No, and in about five minutes you’re going to feel as livid as I do,” Angie said.

  “What are you talking about?” Mel asked. “Is something wrong with Tate? Are you two okay? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Angie glanced over Mel’s head at the imperceptible camera her brother Tony had installed in the shop. She stomped towards it, glared up at it, and then made a rude hand gesture.

  “Angie,” Mel said. “What has gotten into—”

  “Hello, ladies,” Sal DeLaura said as he stepped through the door. “Hey, Ange, I did not appreciate the hand gesture you just sent to the camera.”

  “Aw, what?” Angie asked. “How’d you know I did that so fast?”

  “Tony and I were on the phone,” he said and wagged his cell phone at her. “Now, look, I’ll try and stay out of your way, but Joe said I was to monitor every person who comes into the shop. Tony has them on camera surveillance but we figure if there is trouble, I can jump in.”

  Mel stared stupidly at Sal. “I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m your bodyguard,” Sal said. “But don’t go all Whitney Houston to my Kevin Costner. Joe still has dibs.”

  “Dibs?” Mel said. “Like I’m the front seat of a car?”

  “Or the last Pringle in the can,” Sal agreed.

  “Don’t worry,” Angie said. “Mel won’t go near you. Aside from the fact that you’re not Joe, your girlfriend would skin her alive and probably enjoy it.”

  Mel knew the DeLaura clan had yet to warm up to Sal’s girlfriend. She was a Jersey girl with the big hair and attitude to match and, yeah, Mel was afraid of her.

  “Carla is a little possessive like that,” Sal said. He looked pleased by the observation. “So, I’ll check back here. We’ll be keeping it locked and then I’ll go sweep the front.”

  Mel was still gaping as Sal locked the door, searched the kitchen, including the walk-in cooler, and then headed out front. She looked at Angie, who was still looking peeved.

  “Wild guess here,” Mel said. “Your scary face this morning is because Joe is having the brothers monitor the shop.”

  Angie put one index finger on her nose and then pointed at Mel with the other. “Bingo.”

  “Well, now I know what he meant by alternate measures,” Mel said. She saw Angie looking at her, but she didn’t explain. “I’m guessing we have no choice.”

  “I tried to ditch him,” Angie said. “Tate is at the lawyer’s office, working out some franchise stuff, so he was thrilled to have Sal keep tabs on me. I think Tate was actually going to cancel his meeting just to follow me around all day. So dumb. Believe me, I have tried to shake Sal loose, but he clings like a wart.”

  “We’ll just have to make the best of it,” Mel said. “Maybe if we humor them, they’ll go away.”

  Angie gave her a dubious look. “Have you not known the brothers for twenty-plus years?”

  Mel shrugged. “I know, I know, but we’re not twelve anymore. Maybe it won’t be as bad as we fear.”

  It wasn’t. It was worse.

  Fourteen

  Sal utilized his time by intimidating every customer who entered the bakery. He was so into his task that Mel was surprised he didn’t frisk them as they came through the door.

  In fact, when one of her favorite customers, Dawn Frazier, a cute brunette with a powerful love of dark chocolate cupcakes, popped in to order a dozen for a party she was going to, Sal followed her to the counter and stared at her as if he expected her to pull out a gun or a bomb or a very large knife.

  As he loomed over her, Dawn turned to face him. Her blunt-cut bangs gave her a no-nonsense look and she lowered her sunglasses and glanced at Sal over them. In a voice that did not invite an argument, she said, “Back up.”

  Sal’s eyes widened as if this was proof that Dawn was there to cause them bodily harm. Mel blew out a breath of exasperation.

  “You heard her, Sal,” she said from behind the counter. “Give her some space.”

  “But she could be a cold-blooded killer,” Sal protested. “What if she’s armed?”

  “Sal, you numbskull, Dawn’s a regular,” Angie said as she joined Mel behind the counter. “She always pops in when she blows through town.”

  “Oh,” Sal said. He looked disappointed.

  As Mel handed Dawn the big box of cupcakes, Dawn leaned over the counter and whispered, “You might want to consider buying him a leash.”

  All three women looked at Sal in disapproval but he was too busy to notice, staring at the two teens who had just entered the bakery.

  “Duly noted,” Angie said.

  They waved good-bye to Dawn, and Mel turned to Angie while the teens debated flavors, and said, “We’re going to have to do something.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “Pants him?”

  “Um, no, how would that go over if Carla found out?”

  “Good point.” Angie nodded. “Well, what can we do?”

  “I don’t know but it’ll come to me,” Mel said. “Maybe we can put him to work.”

  “Doing what?” Angie asked. “The brothers are only good at plowing through our walk-in cooler on a cupcake-eating bender. They wouldn’t know a spatula from a PEZ dispenser.”

  Mel raised her eyebrows. “You might be onto something there.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Marty should be here shortly to take over the counter. Let’s get to work. I’m thinking we need to bulk up our supplies.”

  Marty clocked in while Mel and Angie scrambled to start baking for the display counter. As Angie was covering a just-cooled batch of chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting, Sal strolled into the kitchen with his nose twitching like a bunny sniffing a carrot.

  “Do I smell peanut butter?” he asked.

  Angie shoved a peanut butter cup into the top of the cupcake and gave her brother her most innocent look.

  “Do you like peanut butter?” she asked.

  “Ange, come on,” Sal said. He put his hand on his hips. “You know it’s my weakness.”

  “Oh, you should have one then,” Mel said. “In fact, eat as many as you want. It’s the least we can do for you since you’re looking after us and all.”

  She didn’t have to insist. Sal’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips as he debated which one to pick. Torn between two, he grabbed both. Mel noticed Angie had lowered her head to hide her smile.

  Sal scarfed down his cupcakes in a blink, and then he offered to deliver the tray of cupcakes
Angie was working on to Marty, so he could put them in the display case. Sal had been gone thirty minutes when Marty popped his head through the swinging door.

  “Ange, we’re going to need a twelve-step program or a stomach pump if you don’t come out here and stop Sal from eating his body weight in cupcakes.”

  “Oh, really?” Angie asked innocently. “Gee, I wonder what’s gotten into him.”

  “Aw, don’t try to bamboozle me,” Marty grumped. “You gave him carte blanche and, boy howdy, is he going for it.”

  The door was pushed wider from behind Marty, and Sal staggered into the kitchen, looking pasty and sweaty. He sat at the metal table and groaned.

  “I’m sorry, Ange, I had to call in a backup,” he said. “I don’t know what happened. I think I have the flu.”

  “More like frosting poisoning,” Marty grumbled.

  “Go home, Sal, you look like garbage,” Dom, the oldest of the DeLaura brothers, said as he entered the kitchen.

  “Dom!” Angie cried.

  She gave Mel a concerned look over Dom’s shoulder as she hugged him. Not only was Dom chronologically the oldest DeLaura brother but he was born an old soul, too. In his mid-forties, with his thick head of hair just starting to go gray, he looked the part of the conservative husband and father that he was. Conning him into eating too many cupcakes was going to be near impossible.

  Mel shrugged and moved in to hug Dom, too. She didn’t mind if Dom stayed to keep an eye on them. She didn’t think he’d go the way of Sal and try to intimidate everyone who entered the bakery.

  “You’re looking as lovely as ever, Mel,” Dom said.

  “Oh, thanks,” Mel said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No thanks,” he said and patted his middle. “The wife has me on a diet.”

  “Ha!” Sal scoffed. “You’d never catch me being told what I can and can’t eat.”

  Dom lifted a brow as he studied his brother. “Is that chocolate frosting on your lip?”

  Sal hastily wiped at his mouth. “Peanut butter, and so what if it is?”