Melt My Heart, Cowboy (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 1)

by CJ Carmichael

  Knew, too, what Portia needed to find out.

  “You think you could be pregnant?”

  Portia stared at her for a long moment. “It’s possible.”

  No one spoke for a few minutes. Dozens of questions popped into Rosie’s mind. Most of all, she wondered if Portia’s ex-boyfriend was the potential father, and if this was the reason Portia had dropped out of college.

  But Portia wouldn’t want an inquisition. Rosie took a deep breath, then crossed the room, took Portia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You ready to find out?”

  After another hesitation, Portia nodded.

  “Okay.” Rosie went down the hall and opened the door to the powder room. It was hard to believe that less than three hours ago Brant had been in here, washing his hands. Their dinner together felt so long ago now.

  As Portia stepped into the bathroom, Rosie said, “I’ll wait out here. Call me if… if you need anything.”

  The process took all of two minutes. Rosie waited in anguish, not sure what outcome to even hope for. When Portia emerged with a plastic stick in her hand, Rosie didn’t have to examine it to know the verdict. She could tell by the paleness of Portia’s skin. The fear in her eyes.

  “It’s positive,” she finally said. “I’m going to have a baby.”

  And for the second time since Rosie had met her, Portia dissolved into tears.

  *

  In a show of solidarity, Rosie stayed up until almost midnight with Portia. Since Portia wasn’t ready to talk, they decided to watch a movie. Rosie suggested one of her favorites, 500 Days of Summer.

  “Haven’t seen it. What’s it about?” Portia settled into the corner of the sofa, pulling the throw Rosie’s mother had knitted up to her chest.

  “It’s about love, but it isn’t a love story. I once saw it on a list of movies to make you glad that you’re single.”

  Portia laughed. “You’re so awesome. It sounds perfect.”

  As the movie played, Rosie had to struggle to keep her mouth shut. In her family it was normal to analyze the turning points and character development in a movie, to discuss why the director might have decided to shoot a scene a certain way, or chosen a specific backdrop for a close-up.

  This had driven their mother crazy, sometimes she’d insisted she wouldn’t watch a show with them unless they all promised to keep their ideas and opinions to themselves. On the odd occasions when they managed to do so, as soon as the credits started rolling, their words would come spilling out.

  When the movie ended, Rosie was anxious to hear what Portia had thought. “Did you like it?”

  “Sort of. To be honest, I had trouble concentrating.” Portia sighed as she stood up. “Thanks for keeping me company. It was nice not to be alone. I’m going to try and sleep now.”

  Rosie hugged her friend then went to bed as well, but though she was extremely tired, sleep didn’t come easily. She couldn’t help brooding about Portia’s pregnancy and Sara Maria’s unhappiness, and whether her house would finally sell. Almost more disturbing than these worries were her thoughts of Brant. His attitude toward his sister was so frustrating. It should have made her like him less, but oddly the opposite was true. Maybe because she sensed his cluelessness stemmed, not so much from a lack of caring, but from some sort of blind spot.

  When Rosie woke at eight the next morning, Portia was asleep, but there were signs she’d been up a good portion of the night. A stack of clean laundry was folded on one of the kitchen chairs and a dozen freshly baked apple oatmeal muffins were on the counter, along with a note.

  Didn’t sleep much last night. Hope doing my laundry and baking these muffins didn’t disturb you. I’ve sent Aunt Sage a text explaining I won’t be at work today. I’m going to try and get in to see your doctor.

  As she read the note, Rosie gobbled one of the muffins, which was absolutely delicious—moist and full of apple and cinnamon flavors. She considered putting on a pot of coffee, but now that Portia was finally getting some much needed rest she didn’t want to risk waking her.

  Maybe she’d go to the Java Café for her morning fix. On her way she could drop off the pies at the care home. Sara Maria said she didn’t like pie, but surely the other residents and the staff would love them. Rosie covered three pies in plastic wrap, then placed them in a large shallow box. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she quietly let herself out the back door and placed the pies in the trunk of her car.

  Marietta was so small, Rosie seldom felt the need to drive, but with all these pies to carry, today it was a necessity. The autumn morning was sunny and warm, and Rosie had to stop at one intersection as a mom and three children hurried by on their way to school. A block further a dog walker strolled by with three dogs on leash, headed for the path along the river, probably.

  It was just an average morning in Marietta, but for some reason, today, Rosie saw so much beauty in the mundane. She realized, regardless of the long winter, she was going to miss this place terribly when she moved.

  At the care home, the kitchen staff was happy to accept the gift of the pies, though they insisted two was plenty.

  Rosie was on her way back to her car with the unwanted third pie when she noticed Sara Maria sitting in a far corner of the lounge area, reading a book.

  Instinctively Rosie went over to say hello, but Sara Maria just glanced at her without returning the greeting. Was she upset? Or was this just another of her quirks?

  Up close Rosie was able to make out the title of her book, The Complete Works of Immanuel Kant.

  “Wow, that’s heavy stuff.”

  Gaze still fixed to the printed page Sara Maria said, “He’s a German philosopher.”

  “Um, yeah, I know. But why are you reading his book?” Rosie couldn’t imagine doing so, unless it was required material for some course she had to take.

  Sara Maria heaved out a breath, then settled the book face down on her lap. “Look around me. I have to do something to keep my sanity.”

  Rosie did look. She saw a motley collection of men and women, all of whom were decades older than Sara Maria. Some were watching television, others were staring off into space or had their eyes closed, presumably napping already even though it wasn’t yet nine in the morning.

  “Those two women in the corner by the window are playing Scrabble.” Rosie pointed out.

  “Yes, I joined in their game once. They wouldn’t accept that the word ‘oxygen’ takes the letter ‘s’ even though I showed them the word right in the Scrabble Dictionary.”

  “Oh.” Rosie studied Sara Maria’s face closely, realizing she’d underestimated her intellectual ability. By far. “Does Brant know you read books like that?” She pointed to the one on Sara Maria’s lap.

  “Brant knows I like to read. Our mother used to take us to the library every week when we were kids. But he probably isn’t aware of my interest in philosophy. It started when my mother bought me Sophie’s World for my sixteenth birthday. I was frustrated by the blend of fiction and fact and wanted to read the works of the philosophers for myself.”

  “Oh my lord, Sara Maria. You so don’t belong in this place.”

  Sara Maria gave her a look that basically implied, duh.

  “I’m going to talk to your brother about this,” Rosie promised, not mentioning she’d already broached the topic without much success. She simply had to find a better place for Sara Maria to live.

  “Don’t bother. My brother wants me someplace where he doesn’t have to worry about me. The care home suits him perfectly.”

  “Don’t you think he loves you? That he wants you to be happy?”

  Sara Maria considered the question for a while before answering. “You have to know a person before you can love them.”

  “And you don’t think Brant knows you?”

  “I’m just his weird kid sister. Someone he’s had to look after all his life. I don’t blame him for being sick of it. As long as I’m in this place, he gets to live his life the way he wants. At least
most of the time.”

  “But he does care. He visits you every Friday.”

  “It’s just an obligation. He doesn’t like doing it.”

  Rosie suspected there was at least a kernel of truth in what Sara Maria was saying, but she couldn’t accept it all. “Maybe he feels that way a little sometimes. But I’m positive he loves you.”

  She could tell Sara Maria didn’t believe her and she longed to give the younger woman a hug, or at least put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t dare. “I bet you feel super lonesome without your mom. I really miss my parents, too. Part of moving on after you’ve lost someone though, is meeting new people. Making new friends. I think you need to do that.”

  To her surprise Sara Maria seemed open to the idea.

  “How do I do that? Make friends?”

  “Well… there’s me, right? We’re in the process of becoming friends.” Even as she said this, though, she felt a ping of guilt, knowing she would be moving soon.

  But Sara Maria either didn’t know about the impending move or didn’t care. A soft light shone in her eyes. Her lips turned up into a tiny smile. “Yes. Thank you, Rosie. You’re right, it is good to have a friend.”

  *

  Rosie stopped into the Java Café to buy a large latte before making her way to Copper Mountain Chocolates. She’d had an idea and she wanted input from Dakota and Sage.

  Business was bustling for so early in the morning. Dakota had three customers lined up at the till, one of whom was Rosie’s chocolate-addicted realtor, Maddie Cash. Rosie stopped to chat for a moment. As she and Maddie rhapsodized about the joys of Sage’s hot chocolate, Rosie noticed Dakota was looking brighter-faced these days. Hopefully it was a sign she was getting over her rough breakup with her long-term boyfriend Craig Wilkins.

  When she finally slipped back into the kitchen, Rosie found Sage pouring a vat of melted dark chocolate over a huge tray of dried, tart cherries, grated coconut, and chopped hazelnuts. Yum, Sage was making one of Rosie’s favorites.

  Rosie set the pie down on a free corner by the sink, then watched as Sage layered the velvety chocolate over the fruit and nut mixture. After scraping the pot clean Sage then used a pastry spatula to smooth the chocolate evenly over the entire tray.

  “That looks almost as good as I know it’s going to taste.”

  Sage smiled briefly. “Is that why you dropped in on your day off? To grab some fresh cherry hazelnut bark? If so, there’s a tray cooling in the second refrigerator.”

  “Thanks, but I actually want you to taste something for me this time.”

  As Sage looked up, a strand of her red hair fell into her eyes. Using the back of her hand, she swept it away. “Is that a pie you came in with?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t baked by me, you’ll be relieved to hear.”

  Again Sage smiled.

  “I’ve been hanging out with the autistic sister of one of our regular customers. Her name is Sara Maria. She has some issues that affect her ability to live independently, but she’s really smart and she’s also an awesome baker. I wondered if maybe we could help her become more independent by finding a place where she could sell her pies.”

  The beginnings of a worried frown appeared on her face. “I hope you weren’t thinking of here.”

  “No,” Rosie quickly reassured her. “But maybe Rachel would take them at the Gingerbread and Dessert Factory?”

  “Hm. Are you sure the pie is good enough? Rachel’s standards are very high.”

  “I think so. But I want your opinion and Dakota’s, too. May I cut a few slices?”

  “Sure.” Sage transferred the tray to the fridge, then went to wash her hands. When she was finished she asked, “So how is Portia this morning? I was worried when I got her message last night.”

  “Oh, still under the weather.” Rosie was glad she could keep her gaze lowered to the pie. She’d always been bad at lying, even white lies or lies of omission.

  “Poor thing, getting sick when she’s already dealing with so much. She’s such a sweetie. I hate to see her so unhappy.”

  Not knowing what to say, Rosie made a murmur of agreement.

  “Does she talk to you, Rosie?” Sage asked abruptly. Then immediately she apologized. “I shouldn’t pry. It’s just I can’t help worrying about her.”

  “We talk some,” Rosie said vaguely.

  “Well, I’m glad you took her in as a roommate. Portia obviously needs some space from her family right now, but I wouldn’t want her to be alone.”

  “It’s been nice for me, too.”

  Sage gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Have you had any offers on your house?”

  “No. But I have someone working on repairs and new paint. The guy with the autistic sister. Hopefully that will help.” Rosie quickly handed Sage one of the servings of pie, hoping to distract her from asking any questions about said guy, questions she wasn’t ready to answer, given her confused state of mind about Brant Willington.

  Sage took her first bite. It was almost comical watching her reaction. She chewed slowly, with obvious relish, before finally swallowing.

  “That pie is fantastic.”

  They called Dakota into the kitchen next and let her have a sample. Dakota quickly came to the same conclusion.

  “It’s awesome. Can you save the rest of this so I can enjoy it when I have time for a proper break?”

  Since the bell had just sounded, signaling a new customer, Dakota relinquished her fork with reluctance and went back to work.

  “I’m finished here for the day and I’m not needed at home for another hour.” Sage had devoured her slice already and was wrapping the remaining pie back in the plastic. “Let me take this to Rachel so she can have a sample. I haven’t seen her in ages and this will give me an excuse to pay her a visit.”

  Rosie had just noticed an incoming message from her brother. Generally this meant he had a new scene for her to work on, so she was glad to take Sage up on her offer. “You’ll let me know what she says?”

  “I will, and I’m betting the answer will be positive. Pie this good will sell itself.”

  *

  Back in her car, Rosie read the message from Daniel. As she’d suspected he had the next scene of his pilot episode ready for her. This time he’d merely mapped out the scene structure and left her to fill in the details, especially the dialogue.

  In his message he asked if she could get this back to him before tomorrow morning. She typed back. “That’s not much time but I’ll try.”

  At home, Rosie used the back entrance, hoping to find the house quiet so she could get straight to work, but Portia was at the kitchen table in front of her open laptop, jotting notes. She had her hair in a messy bun and was wearing flannel pajama bottoms decorated with puppies and an oversized pink t-shirt.

  Her color was good, and she seemed perky, which was a big improvement from the previous night.

  “Hey, how are you doing?”

  “Better, thanks. Sorry about last night.”

  “No problem.” Rosie hesitated, wondering if Portia wanted to discuss her pregnancy, but Portia’s next words were on an entirely different subject.

  “I’ve been working on our chocolate and wine tasting event. Got a minute to talk about it?”

  Rosie supposed she could put off her writing for a little while. “Sure.”

  Portia flipped back a few pages in the notebook. “I called the Two Old Goats wine store on Front Street and told them about our idea.”

  “And were they interested?”

  “I spoke to Clifford. He said it sounded like a winning idea. And he had a brilliant suggestion—why don’t we host the event on Halloween and have everyone dress in costumes?”

  Rosie grinned. “Love it!”

  “So fun, right? I’ve been jotting down some possible names for the event. What do you think of Dark Magic Chocolate & Wine Tasting?

  “It’s good. Dark magic works for Halloween and it also makes me think of Sage’s delicious sing
le origin dark chocolate bars.”

  Portia smiled. “I’m so glad you like it. I have some rudimentary graphic design skills so I was going to create a poster for the store. I also thought we could email out invitations to our customers.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have an email listing of our customers. I’ve been encouraging Sage to start one.”

  “Oh, boy. When it comes to marketing, we’re really starting from scratch aren’t we?”

  “Last Christmas I tried to convince her to have a contest for a huge chocolate gift basket. To enter people would have to give us their names and email addresses, and permission to add them to our customer list. She wouldn’t go for it. Said it was too pushy.”

  Portia groaned. “Oh, Aunt Sage. Really?”

  “We’ll both have to work on her.”

  “I know. I’ll set up a meeting at the wine store and we’ll ambush her. Clifford told me that he and his partner have over five hundred names on their email list.” Portia closed her lap top and got up from the table. “I better get a move on.”

  “Are you going into work for the afternoon?”

  “No. Your doctor squeezed me in with an eleven forty-five appointment. I’m going to take a quick shower first.”

  “Oh. Good. I’m glad you got in so quickly.”

  “Yeah. I think I suspected this for a while now. I have to stop living in denial and face facts.”

  “Is this why you dropped out of college? Because you figured you might be pregnant?”

  Portia sighed. “Not really. But it does stem from the main problem.”

  Before Rosie could ask what she meant, Portia had left the room. Rosie replayed her parting words but couldn’t make sense of them. It seemed as if Portia thought she had a problem bigger than being pregnant. But how was that possible?

  Chapter Eleven

  As the town of Marietta came into view, Brant reflected on how dramatically his life had shifted recently. Not more than a week ago, the sight of this town had filled him with the urge to pull his truck around and speed back to the Three Bars Ranch.

  But today he was looking forward to his arrival.

  The reason for his about-face was obvious.