Second-Chance Sweet Shop (Wickham Falls Weddings Book 7)

by Rochelle Alers

  “Do you think Kiera wants to become a dentist?”

  Coming to a stop at a four-way intersection, Dwight looked for oncoming traffic. “She hasn’t said anything to me about it. Right now, all she talks about is learning to make fancy cakes.” He knew he’d shocked Sasha with this disclosure when she emitted an audible gasp.

  “Has she actually told you she wants to become a pastry chef?” Sasha asked.

  “Not in so many words,” he replied truthfully. Dwight didn’t want to tell Sasha that his daughter talked nonstop about the customers that came into the sweet shop and about her employer.

  “Would it bother you if she did choose a career as a pastry chef?”

  Dwight shook his head. “No. I’ve asked my daughter what she wants to be when she grows up, and she always says she doesn’t know. What I don’t want to do is put pressure on her as to her career choice. I tell her that once she decides, it should be something she’s passionate about. But what I will not do is support her if she wants to become a professional student because she doesn’t know what she wants to be.”

  “Her wanting to learn to bake may be just a phase, but I’m willing to give her lessons once I hire an assistant. That probably won’t be until the summer. Even if she elects not to become a pastry chef, she can always use it as a backup to supplement her income.”

  “Did you know that you were going to be a pastry chef when you graduated high school?”

  Sasha paused. “That’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it at another time.”

  Dwight registered something in Sasha’s tone that indicated it was something she truly did not want to talk about, and he was perceptive enough not to bring up the topic again. After all, they were still more strangers than friends.

  He maneuvered off the local road and down a sloping decline to a path leading through a copse of trees before the landscape opened to a valley as the Wolf Den came into view. The mouthwatering aroma of smoked meats wafted through partially open windows of the Jeep. A smokehouse and newly erected red-painted barn were located behind the restaurant. The Den’s owners had built the barn to double as a venue for catered affairs. It was the only business in town with a license to serve alcohol. The parking lot alongside the building was crowded with SUVs and pickups, and a few Harleys. He pulled into a reserved space bearing his name and rank.

  Sasha gave him an incredulous look at the same time she undid her seat belt. “You get your own parking space?”

  Dwight winked at her. “Only on Military Monday. As the highest-ranking officer in The Falls, I’m afforded the honor.”

  Her smile matched his. “So, rank does have its privileges.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it does.” The owners had afforded him the privilege after town council members voted to host Community Week for residents to volunteer to give back or pay it forward. Dwight had elected to treat all active, retired and/or former military personnel free of charge, regardless of whether they had dental insurance. “Don’t move. I’ll help you down.”

  * * *

  Sasha waited for Dwight to get out and open her door. He extended his arms and she slid off the seat as he held her effortlessly, her head level with his for several seconds, before lowering her until her feet touched the ground. Suddenly, she felt light-headed, as if she couldn’t draw a normal breath because they were a hairbreadth away from each other. Being this close to Dwight made her feel as if she’d been sucked into a vortex that made everything around her vanish like a puff of smoke. Ripples of awareness eddied through her, and for the first time in a very long time she felt a longing that she wanted to be made love to. However, she knew realistically that couldn’t happen. There was no way she was going to become physically involved with the father of her employee. It would not bode well for her, Dwight or Kiera if they decided to break up.

  And in that instant, she knew it was best for them to become friends.

  Friends without benefits.

  “Let’s go in so that we can give these folks something to talk about.”

  Reaching over her head, Dwight shut the door and then held her hand and led her out of the parking lot to the front of the eating establishment.

  Chapter Six

  Sasha had grown up listening to stories about the celebrated sports bar, but this was her first time stepping foot into the place that had earned the reputation of serving the best smoked meat in the county. The ear-shattering sounds of raised voices, the waitstaff shouting food orders and the deep, pulsing music from a heavy-metal band coming from hidden speakers were an assault on her senses.

  A crowd of men and women were standing two-deep at the bar, where a trio of bartenders were filling drink orders. Although the legal drinking age in West Virginia was twenty-one, the owners of the Wolf Den had posted a sign stating they reserved the right not to serve anyone under twenty-three. More than a half dozen wall-mounted muted televisions were tuned to sporting events.

  “Attention!” Everyone went completely still, and all manner of speech ended abruptly as they executed salutes. Sasha also froze when she saw everyone staring at her and Dwight.

  “At ease, everyone.” Dwight’s voice, though low, carried easily above the music.

  It suddenly dawned on Sasha the assembly had acknowledged him as a senior ranking officer. Going on tiptoe, she whispered close to his ear, “Does this always happen when you come in?”

  Dwight lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her hair. “It started as a joke a couple of years ago and it stuck. Anyone who was or is a commissioned officer gets the spotlight.” His hand rested at the small of her back. “Let me see if I can find a table before we can order something to eat.”

  Sasha glanced around the sports bar. Almost everyone wore an article of clothing advertising a branch of the military. She stared at a tray a waitress balanced on her shoulder filled with dishes of grilled meat and sides. The mouthwatering aroma of brisket, chicken, ribs and baked beans with pieces of burnt ends, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese wafted to her nostrils. Wrapping her arm around Dwight’s waist, she moved even closer to him when the door opened, and more people came in.

  “Doc Adams! Over here!”

  * * *

  Dwight craned his neck to see who was calling his name. He spied one of the owners beckoning him closer. Tonight Aiden Gibson, a former navy SEAL, was doing double duty as the pit master and bartender. Resting his hand at the small of Sasha’s back, he shouldered his way through the throng to find two stools at the far end of the bar.

  A network of fine lines fanned out around Aiden’s blue-green eyes when he smiled. “I wasn’t certain whether you would show up tonight. I’ll have one of the waitstaff get a table for you.”

  Dwight seated Sasha and then reached over the bar and shook Aiden’s hand. “Thanks for looking out for us. Aiden, I’m not certain whether you know Sasha Manning.” He studied her delicate profile. “Sasha, Aiden Gibson. He happens to be one of the owners of this fine dining establishment.”

  Sasha extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Aiden cradled her much smaller hand in his. “I’m more familiar with your brother Phil, because he and I were in some of the same classes. Aren’t you the cake lady everyone’s talking about?” A slight flush suffused Sasha’s fair complexion as she modestly inclined her head. “You and I have to talk at another time, because I’m thinking of adding a few items to our dessert menu. Now, what can I get you good folks to drink while you wait for a table?”

  Dwight dropped an arm over Sasha’s shoulders. “What do you want, sweetie?” The endearment had just slipped out.

  She stared at the chalkboard with the day’s specials and beers. “I’ll have a Blue Moon.”

  He ordered Sasha’s beer and a Dos Equis for himself. Minutes later, Aiden placed pint glasses of ice-cold beer on two coasters. Raising his glass, Dwight touched it to Sasha’
s, which was garnished with an orange slice. “Enjoy.”

  She took a long swallow of her icy brew, moaning softly. “That’s nice.”

  Picking up a napkin, Dwight gently held her chin and blotted the froth off her upper lip. He leaned closer and brushed his mouth over hers, savoring the lingering taste of orange. “We need to make folks believe we’re a couple,” he whispered against her moist parted lips. Although not prone to displays of public affection, Dwight admitted to himself that he enjoyed kissing Sasha.

  Sasha looked up at him through her lashes. “You’re right.” The two words were barely off her tongue when she leaned closer and kissed him on the mouth, the joining lasting almost five seconds. “I think that’s a lot more convincing.”

  Dwight felt the flesh between his thighs stir to life, and he pressed his knees tightly together as he struggled not to become fully aroused. He cursed to himself when he realized he’d concocted a dangerous scheme that backfired. He’d convinced himself he and Sasha could see each other socially without a physical entanglement. Now it was apparent he was wrong because his body had just reminded him how long it had been since he’d been intimately involved with a woman; his last relationship, by mutual agreement, did not include sharing a bed.

  Sitting straight, he saw Sasha staring back at him. It was impossible for him to read her expression. “Are you okay?”

  * * *

  A mysterious smile softened Sasha’s mouth. “I’m more than okay.”

  And she was. Kissing Dwight, really kissing him, had assuaged her curiosity about the man whose image plagued her days and nights. She hadn’t had a lot of experience when it came to the opposite sex, but after almost five years of marriage to a narcissist, she’d come to know what she did not like or want in a man.

  Sasha knew she wasn’t a girl, but a woman, who no longer entertained fantasies about finding her prince who would sweep her away and they would live happily ever after. Her grandmother had given her a colorful cloth-covered journal for her eighth birthday with a note for her to write down everything that had happened to her that day and every day thereafter. She told her that she had to be honest about her feelings, because the entries would provide a blueprint as to how she should live her life.

  It wasn’t until years later, when she unpacked the personal belongings she’d shipped from Nashville to Wickham Falls, that Sasha found the journals. She’d kept them because they were the last link between her and her grandmother; she sat in bed and read every entry. Her childish print gave way to a beautiful cursive along with drawings that hinted of the artistic ability she would eventually use when designing cakes.

  When she compared Dwight to Grant, she realized they were complete opposites in appearance and personality. She’d found Dwight even-tempered, generous and affectionate, while Grant was critical, opinionated and selfish. It was only when Grant was in public or onstage performing for a crowd that he was able to morph into the charming, magnetic man women fantasized about and men wanted to be.

  “Hey, Sasha. What are you doing here?”

  She turned to find someone she hadn’t seen since their high school graduation. Gregg Henderson had been her prom date. He wore a tan-colored T-shirt under a desert fatigue jacket. “What happened to ‘how are you?’” she teased, smiling.

  Gregg ran a hand over his close-cropped sandy-brown hair. His dark blue eyes in a deeply tanned face reminded her of sapphires. “Sorry about that.” He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “How are you?”

  “I’m well. And how have you been?”

  “I’m really good. I just finished my second tour, so I’m going to be stateside for a while. My mother told me about you marrying and then divorcing that country singer. What happened?”

  Sasha’s expression changed, becoming a mask of stone. “We decided to go our separate ways.” She had no intention of giving Gregg the intimate details of her failed marriage.

  “I’m going to be here for another couple of weeks, so maybe we can hang out together and catch up on old times.”

  She wanted to tell Gregg that there were no old times. He was the first boy to ask her to prom and she’d accepted. “I don’t think that’s going to be possible. When I’m not running my business, I try to spend time with my boyfriend.” The moment she’d referred to Dwight as her boyfriend, Sasha knew for certain everyone in The Falls would know about it because Gregg’s mother was an incurable gossipmonger.

  “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

  Looping her arm through Dwight’s and resting her head on his shoulder, Sasha wordlessly confirmed to Gregg that she was seeing The Falls’ resident dentist.

  Gregg’s eyes were large as silver dollars when he realized who she was talking about. “I suppose I’ll see you around.” Turning, he walked away, leaving Sasha staring at his back.

  “You played that off quite well.”

  Sasha looked at Dwight, who appeared to have an intense interest in the plastic-covered menu. “I suppose you heard everything.”

  “Curious and wondering how you were going to handle him coming on to you.”

  “He really wasn’t coming on to me, Dwight.”

  Dwight’s inky-black eyebrows rose. “You think not? He was talking about catching up on old times.”

  “The old times was prom. He was my prom date and nothing beyond that.”

  “You didn’t date him in high school?”

  Sasha lowered her eyes. Dwight was asking a question that if she answered would open a Pandora’s box of memories she’d put behind her. “I didn’t date anyone in high school.” He gave her an incredulous look. “I didn’t want any entanglements when I knew I was leaving town following graduation.”

  She’d told Dwight a half lie. If she’d had a boyfriend, she knew he probably would’ve tried to convince her to stay. At the time she knew she had to put some distance between her and her parents before she had a complete mental breakdown.

  “Why did you leave, Sasha?”

  “That’s a long story. One that I can’t talk about here.”

  Dwight dropped a kiss on her hair. “Forgive me for prying.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, sweetie,” she whispered, repeating his term of endearment. “I want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For masquerading as my boyfriend because I don’t need or want a repeat of what I just had with Gregg. I’ve discovered some men don’t react well to rejection.”

  Once she’d appeared on the competition cooking show she was easily recognizable because of her distinctive laugh and red hair. At the time she didn’t know whether men were attracted to her because she’d become a celebrity chef, or if they liked her for herself, which resulted in her deftly rejecting any offers to take her out. She’d had one serious relationship before Grant, which had ended badly. He had been one of her culinary school instructors. Almost fifteen years her senior, he did not deal well with rejection, and she was forced to move out of her apartment once he began stalking her. It ended only when she reported him to the police; the judge warned him that a subsequent arrest could result in his serving time in prison.

  Dwight threaded their fingers together, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “I think I’m going to enjoy masquerading as your boyfriend.”

  She gazed into a pair of dark eyes that reminded her of tiny cups of espresso. Light from pendants shimmered on the cropped salt-and-pepper strands covering his head, while casting long and short shadows over Dwight’s exquisitely sculpted face. It wasn’t for the first time that she wondered why some woman hadn’t gotten him to fall in love and marry her, despite his pronouncement that he liked being single. Sasha was preempted from replying when a waitress came over to inform them she had an available table for them.

  * * *

  Dwight ordered for himself and Sasha. Once the dishes arrived and she b
it into a succulent piece of smoked brisket, she said she now knew why the Wolf Den was so popular with folks in The Falls and surrounding towns. He introduced her to men and women—some with whom she was familiar and others who were complete strangers. It was apparent she’d missed a lot during her fourteen-year absence.

  The time was approaching nine when a waitress came over to the table to ask him if he wanted another beer. “No, thank you. But I will take the check.”

  Sasha touched the napkin to her mouth. “Is there anybody in town that you don’t know?” she asked, teasingly.

  “Very few. Remember, I’ve lived here all my life. Even when I went to college and dental school, I managed to come back in between semesters.” He looked at something over her head. “There’s something about Wickham Falls that keeps pulling me back whenever I’m away for any appreciable period of time.”

  “Maybe it’s because you had a very happy childhood.”

  Dwight’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And you didn’t?”

  Sasha’s eyelids fluttered wildly. “It wasn’t as happy as it should’ve been. My parents argued.”

  “What parents don’t, Sasha?”

  “Every day, Dwight.”

  He stood, signaled for the waitress and handed her three large bills. “Keep the change.” Rounding the booth, he cupped Sasha’s elbow, helping her to stand. “Let’s go, Cinderella. I promised to get you home by nine.”

  Dwight escorted her out of the restaurant and into the cool night air. Sasha’s mentioning her parents arguing every day was certain to negatively impact her attitude about relationships. Had she and her ex-husband quarreled so much that it had put a strain on their marriage until it resulted in divorce?

  He wanted to tell Sasha that he and Adrienne rarely argued until it came time for him to set up his practice. Then it was relentless and uncompromising. What he could not and did not understand at the time was why she so vehemently objected when she’d known for years of his intentions. However, once they were divorced and she moved to New York and reunited with one of her college classmates, realization dawned for Dwight. Adrienne finally admitted that she’d had an affair with the man who would eventually become her second husband.