Best Served Cold

by Emma Hart

  “That’s a whole fifteen minutes away.”

  She was still biting her lip. If she was doing that to manipulate me, it’d be working even if I weren’t messing with her.

  “I know,” she said, finally releasing it. “But I can’t drive. I can’t walk there. And Sophie is working. I don’t want to ask you, believe me, but—”

  “Do you have any idea how much I don’t trust you to get back up on that counter and start painting again?” I pointed to the counter she’d just been on. “Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get yourself into in the next thirty minutes?”

  She opened her mouth, then pursed her lips as realization flashed in her eyes. “Here I was, thinking we’d reached some kind of truce, and you’re still fucking with me.” Then, she bit her goddamn lip again like she thinks I’ve forgotten how she always used that instead of puppy dog eyes.

  I leaned forward, smiling ever so slightly. “Rae, me fucking with you is some kind of truce, especially if you don’t stop acting like you don’t know how much you biting your lip like that turns me on.”

  Surprise flashed in her eyes, and she released her lip like it burned her.

  “You fuck with me; I fuck with you.” I cupped her chin gently and dropped my gaze to her mouth just long enough for her lips to part—for her to tell me without words that even if she hated me, I still affected her. “Now, I swear to God, if I get back here and you’re on that damn counter, and you’re painting, I’m going to kick your tight ass, understand?”

  Apparently having lost complete control of her tongue, she nodded, eyes still wide and lips still parted.

  I wanted to kiss her more than I ever had in my life.

  And, as her gaze dropped to my mouth, I wondered if that feeling was even just a little bit mutual.

  “Good. A broken toe I can cope with, but I’m not sitting in the ER for five hours with you because you’ve broken your ankle.” I grinned and let go of her chin, winking before I turned around and headed for the door.

  When I turned around before I shut it behind me, she was still staring at me, except this time, her cheeks were warm, and there was more than a little curiosity in her beautiful dark eyes.

  Good.

  CHAPTER TEN – RAELYNN

  He was up to something.

  I wasn’t sure of many things all the time, but I was sure of this.

  Chase Aarons was up to something.

  I was a little scared of that. Our conversations until this point had been mostly us fighting. Even when we weren’t, we kinda were.

  Bickering, really. Not fighting. Aside from the first couple where I’d shouted at him, but that was all his fault for pissing me off. Ever since he’d helped me with the steamer, I hadn’t had much of a choice but to be nice to him.

  He was clearly passing me an olive branch, and if I wasn’t ready to forgive him for the store, I could be civil, right?

  Except I didn’t know if it was possible.

  The plastic on the seat of my new bar stools crackled as I adjusted my position, keeping my right foot up on another. The pie he’d brought was good, and I wasn’t ashamed to say that I was on my second slice after the bagel, and I was still eyeing up the donuts. Apparently, pain made me hungry.

  Was it possible to be civil to Chase? He was the first person I’d ever loved, and man, I’d loved him. Was it even remotely possible to be friends with him after that?

  I knew the answer was no. Certainly not as long as I reacted the way I did when he touched me. Most definitely not as long as my heart skipped a beat when his eyes met mine.

  That had happened earlier. His gesture of lunch and pastries had been so kind, so sweet—so the Chase I’d fallen in love with. Because he was right. I had a sweet tooth, and it was the fast-track route to my heart.

  The honesty in his eyes when he’d told me he was sorry about my toe and took responsibility for it had taken me back. I never expected him to do that, especially since we’d been arguing over it since it’d happened, but he had.

  He’d said it, and he’d meant it. How could you be angry with someone over something they genuinely felt bad about?

  That’s right. You couldn’t. That would be unfair.

  I sighed and slumped on the counter the best I could. My toe hurt, and now I felt bad for being mean to Chase.

  Not for biting my lip, though. I hadn’t forgotten how that had always turned him on, and even though I was just messing with him in the hope he would buy me some painkillers, the heat that had flashed through his eyes when I’d done it was literally haunting me.

  Nobody had ever looked at me the way he had. Not before him, not after him. Let’s face it—I hadn’t really seen anyone since him. I’d dated, but never more than one date. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than mind-blowing, but it seemed like that was a pipe dream as long as the memory of Chase Aarons lived within me.

  And now I had a new memory of the look in his eye as he’d cupped my chin and told me he knew I was messing with him.

  That’d been our relationship in a nutshell. Messing with each other, teasing each other constantly. That was how we’d always done it until we’d ended up in endless laughing fits that almost always ended up with us kissing and falling into bed together.

  Laughter was sexy. There was nothing more attractive than someone who could make you laugh until your eyes leaked and your stomach hurt.

  Chase could make me laugh with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t even need to try, and screwing around with him earlier had reminded me of those times.

  How many times had I fought laughter since he’d walked through that door and offered to teach me how to use the steamer?

  Too many times to count, even if I didn’t want to admit it. My cheek actually hurt from biting it so many times to keep laughter inside.

  Even when he pissed me off, I wanted to laugh at him.

  And that just pissed me off.

  The bell over the door rang, and I looked up to see Chase walking in with a brown pill bottle in his hand. “That place,” he said, shutting the door behind him, “is the most overpriced building I’ve ever been in.”

  “Okay, so you should never go to Vegas.” I smiled. “Thank you,” I said when he handed me the bottle. “Who knew something so small could hurt so much?”

  “Okay, so you never got bullied in school.” He winked at me and grabbed his coffee. He took one swig before he choked on it and disgust wrinkled his face. “Shit. That’s gross.”

  I bit my lip to hide my smile then covered it with my hand. “My machine is still hooked up. Do you want me to make you one?”

  “No, it’s fine. Rest your foot until the ibuprofen has kicked in. I can do it.” He grabbed his bagel and walked behind me to see if he could figure it out.

  I had fifty bucks that said he wouldn’t be able to.

  I took another forkful of pie into my mouth right as he said, “How the fuck do you work this thing?”

  Laughing, I swung my foot off the stool and took the few steps to the machine. “Well, this fancy thing here is called the ‘on’ button.” I hit the button that held the universal symbol for ‘power.’

  “No shit,” he drawled.

  “Then you check the coffee beans, which are half full and okay because I filled them a couple days ago,” I carried on, checking the settings and talking him through that, too. “Then, you put a cup under, hit this button, and voila. A cup of coffee.” I pressed the button triumphantly, and the machine sputtered to life, spitting hot liquid into the mug I’d set there.

  Chase slowly turned to me. “That is the most complicated coffee machine I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “How is it complicated?”

  “It just offered me twelve different types of coffee! What is it, a walking Starbucks?”

  I touched my hand to my chest. “Twelve? And you think I’m dramatic? Oh my God, it makes four types. Americano, espresso, cappuccino, and latte.”

  “It may as well ask me if I’d
like vanilla syrup or whatever the hell that shit is they put in to ruin perfectly good coffee.”

  “Would you like vanilla creamer in it?”

  “You serve that crap?”

  “Have you ever tasted it?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “Why would I ruin perfectly good coffee with it?”

  I blinked at him. “It doesn’t ruin coffee. It makes it pretty good, actually. And it’s not my fault if my coffee machine is in the twenty-first century while yours is in the stone age.”

  “I don’t have a coffee machine.”

  “How don’t you have a coffee machine?”

  Chase shrugged. “I serve ice cream, not coffee.”

  I stopped him before he could grab his coffee. “Next you’ll tell me you don’t even do milkshakes.”

  “Why the hell would I serve milkshakes? It’s not like I can make them like you do.”

  “Dear God, what kind of ship are you running next door? Is it controlled by pirates? That’s the hot mess that’s been stealing my customers?” My jaw dropped.

  “Hey!” He gently jabbed me in the side of the stomach. “Pirates steal. It’s not my fault I’m winging it.”

  “I can’t believe people have left me for a disaster that doesn’t serve coffee or ice cream!” I grabbed a dishtowel and whipped him with it. “You’re running a joke of a store! Oh my God!” I whipped him again with the towel.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He darted backward with his hands up, moving farther into the store. He crossed into the kitchen much faster than I could, and by the time I got close to him, he had a towel of his own and had it poised to whip me back.

  “No, no! Don’t you dare!” I hobbled back, turning so I didn’t trip and felt the sharp sting of the towel as it snapped across my ass. I yelped an, “Asshole!”

  “Payback!” He caught me again before I could turn around.

  I was quicker than him this time, catching across the middle of the stomach, and I couldn’t stop my laughter. I couldn’t imagine what we looked like, him chasing me and me hobbling backward through the store.

  Thank God the blinds were down.

  Chase shot the towel out at me and missed me by an inch, his smile briefly turning to a grimace of frustration.

  “Ha!” I shouted through my laughter, whipping my towel at him.

  I missed, but he didn’t.

  He grabbed hold of the towel and pulled me toward him. I almost caught my toe, so I finished on a hop, making me wobble. He reached his arm out around my waist to steady me, and I took a deep breath as my body rested against his.

  My hands flattened against his chest, the towel still wrapped around my fingers, and he was still holding the towel, too. His breath was hot and fluttered my hair, making my heart beat faster.

  His was doing the same. My fingers were resting right where his heart was, and I could feel it pounding against his ribs.

  Chase slowly released my towel. He brought his hand up to the side of my face where he pushed my hair back behind my ear with two fingers, leaving a blazing trail of heat across my cheek and along the edge of my scalp.

  I tilted my chin up, and our gazes met. There was laughter in his eyes, but it was mixed with a swirl of emotion and hesitancy that clenched my heart even harder.

  I wanted to reach up and rub my thumb across his jaw. I wanted to feel the roughness of his stubble against my skin.

  I wanted to feel it against my jaw.

  I wanted him to kiss me, and it was wrong.

  But he was Chase.

  “Rae…” His voice was so gentle, but it was his eyes that killed me. They were raw and open and warm, and the lump in my throat was so thick I couldn’t even swallow it.

  He leaned down, and I took a deep breath, my fingers twitching against his chest.

  A loud bang sounded outside, and we both jumped, coming apart as if we’d just been caught in the act. I pressed my hand against my stomach as Chase went to the door and opened it.

  “It was just a car backfiring,” he said, closing the door again.

  Our eyes met.

  He moved his foot, and for a minute, I thought he was going to come over and finish what had almost just happened. Instead, he shuffled back, lifting his hand to his hair. He ran his fingers through it, so it was all messy and sticking up in all different directions, then rested his hand at the back of his neck, rubbing it slightly.

  “I should go.” He wrapped his fingers around the door handle, and it squeaked as he twisted it.

  As much as a part of me wanted him to stay, I knew this was bad with a capital B. My stomach clenched with butterflies and my heart was going insane, so I simply nodded.

  He opened the door and left.

  He didn’t even look back.

  I covered my mouth with my hands and fell onto the window seat. My hands literally shook as I leaned forward and buried my whole face in them instead of just my mouth.

  Holy shit.

  What was I thinking?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN – RAELYNN

  I mixed.

  And I mixed.

  And I mixed.

  It was a good thing I had a ton of ice cream makers, because I’d given up painting after Chase had left two hours ago and I was creating it on a nationwide scale. I had no idea what I was going to do with it all when it was done, but I didn’t care.

  I had unicorn ice cream. Mermaid ice cream. Princess ice cream.

  Best Served Cold was going full-fairytale.

  The unicorn ice cream was the mix of beautiful pinks and purples and blues. The mermaid ice cream was purple and greens, a la Ariel, and the princess ice cream was white and red and pink.

  Each tub came out differently. I threw sprinkles in one. Stars in another mix. Edible glitter in another.

  I was winging it. Some people winged their eyeliner; I winged ice cream. I had time to practice and taste and make sure everything was right—make sure I had the mixing down. Make sure that, by the time the store reopened, I could do it all perfectly with my eyes closed.

  That, and I needed to not think about Chase.

  I couldn’t think about him or what had happened. There was no way to describe what had happened, so I simply wasn’t going to. I was going to ignore it. Pretend it never happened.

  It didn’t happen.

  It was as simple as that.

  Nope. Never. Not once.

  I poured green, purple, and lilac ice cream mixtures into one tub and, grabbing a metal skewer, used it to swirl them all together. The colors mixed and swirled like marble until it was a psychedelic mix that would look amazing on a cone or in a bowl.

  Oh. In a bowl.

  I pushed the lid onto the tub and set it into the freezer. After quickly clearing off the countertop, I pulled out a tub of the unicorn ice cream that was already frozen and set it on the stainless-steel surface.

  I didn’t have to go far to get anything since I’d moved everything from the main store through to the kitchen before I’d started decorating. I grabbed a sundae glass from the shelf above where I was working and, after a quick rinse, set it down.

  It was like a goldmine in here with everything laid out. I grabbed glitter and sprinkles, candy stars and white chocolate. A wafer cone and strawberry sauce completed my collection.

  I sprinkled the inside of the sundae glass with edible glitter, then scooped three balls of unicorn ice cream into it. I kept it chilled while I melted white chocolate in a glass bowl over hot water on the stove, then dipped a cone into it. In turn, the cone went into a bowl of candy stars, and I drizzled a small amount of the cooling chocolate over the sundae, sprinkling it with glitter and stars in turn.

  Then, I added the cone on top, giving it a unicorn horn.

  Stepping back, I surveyed my handiwork.

  It wasn’t the best I’d ever made, but the idea was there. It just needed some work. The cone was too big, for a start, and it could really do with some ears.

  I wondered if I could buy the ears. They’d have to be i
cing, and that wasn’t something I was great with. I grabbed my phone and made a quick note to search online for those later when I was home.

  “Hello?” Sophie’s voice came from the other room.

  “Hello?”

  So did Jessie’s.

  I limped through to the store and grinned. “Just the little girl I was hoping would drop by. I have something I want you to try.”

  She looked around the store, horrified. “Where is everyding?”

  “I told you Rae is redecorating.” Sophie guided her in and pushed the door shut behind her. She looked at me. “What did you make?”

  I held up a finger and grabbed the sundae—plus spoon—from the back. “Here. What do you think of this?”

  The expression of wonder that crossed her face was something equal to how I imagined I’d look if I were ever able to meet, I don’t know, Joe Kenda from Homicide Hunter or something.

  What? I’d be dead if I met him.

  “Is dat a unicorn?” Jess never took her eyes off the sundae.

  “Sure is. I just made it, and I want you to try it with me. Think you can do that?”

  She glanced back at Sophie. “Auntie Sophie? Can I?”

  Soph nodded. “Just this once, and not all of it, because your mommy will be mad at me if you don’t eat your dinner tonight.”

  True that. Sophie’s sister was strict.

  Sophie was not. God help her kids when she had them.

  I put the sundae up on the tall counter, and Soph lifted Jess up to sit on one of the still-covered stools. She took the spoon enthusiastically and dug right into the dessert.

  Her squeal of delight as she stuck the spoon in for a second mouthful was all I needed to know.

  I’d nailed it.

  “What is it? Is it a unicorn?” Sophie moved closer to me as I stepped back, keeping a careful eye on her niece.

  “Technically,” I said slowly. “But it needs work.”

  She nodded. “It’s cute, though. You’re definitely moving in the right direction. Here, give me your phone.” She held out her hand.

  “Why?”

  “Instagram. Get a picture of Jess hiding her face and tucking into one of your new test sundaes.”