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

by CJ Carmichael

“Hi, Sage, how are you doing?”

  When Sage barely grunted in return, Rosie decided it would be prudent to leave. Back in the store Portia was seeing the customers out the door. Once they were gone she heaved a sigh, then rubbed her hands together.

  “Our first two registrants! Isn’t this wonderful?”

  “I want to buy two tickets as well,” Rosie said.

  “For you and Brant?”

  Rosie hesitated, then nodded.

  “Good. I’m sorry I was such a wet blanket this morning. Like I said, I’m not the best person to give romantic advice right now.”

  “That’s okay. You had a point.”

  “Maybe. But I still should have kept my mouth closed. Wren always says I speak first, think second, and sometimes don’t think at all.”

  “That’s a little harsh.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s my brainy sister for you.” Portia pulled out a binder with the printed title Chocolate Shop Events.

  “Events not event?” Rosie commented.

  “Well if this one is a success—and I intend to make certain it is—then don’t you think we ought to do more?”

  “I like how you think.” Rosie went around the counter so they could look at the pages together.

  Portia had an index tab for Dark Magic Chocolate and Wine Event. Within that section she had copies of her email correspondence with the gentlemen from the wine store.

  She flipped a page. “These are the pairings they’re suggesting. What do you think about the order?” She pointed to a section she’d highlighted in pink.

  Rosie read through carefully. Emerson and Clifford had suggested a California merlot to be paired with Sage’s single origin dark chocolate. “I agree this one should be first. Then we can gradually work up to the sweeter chocolates and wines.”

  “So, we should do the zinfandel next? They’ve suggested that would complement our dark chocolate dreams truffle.”

  “Yes. And then the dried cherry and hazelnut dark chocolate bark with the vintage port.”

  “So, do we finish with the rasteau and the salted milk chocolate caramels? Or the fruity chardonnay with the macadamia nut white chocolate truffles?”

  “Gosh. I’m not sure. They’re both very sweet. Should we ask Sage her opinion?”

  “I don’t think so. She made it pretty clear to me that this was our gig. How about we end with the chardonnay and white truffles? The chardonnay should leave a cleaner finish to the palate for the evening.”

  “Good point. Man, I can’t wait to try all these fabulous combinations.” And she sure hoped Brant would enjoy them, too. Provided he agreed to go with her.

  Portia sighed. “I’ll have to do my enjoying vicariously.”

  Rosie glanced at her friend’s still very flat tummy. Of course, being pregnant, Portia would have to abstain. “After the baby’s born we’ll do a reenactment.”

  “After the baby’s born. You don’t know how terrified I feel when you say that.”

  In Portia’s shoes, she’d be scared as well. “Maybe it would help if you talked to your family about it.”

  “I don’t know. I had a phone call from Wren last night. She told me if I didn’t go back and finish college I’d basically be ruining my life. I can just imagine how supportive she’d be if I told her I was pregnant.”

  “Maybe she’d surprise you?”

  “I doubt it. I think my mom will be okay—once she gets over the shock. But it might be easier to start with Aunt Sage. She’s super sweet. No matter how crazy her kids get, she’s always so calm and patient.”

  “Not Callan?”

  Portia shrugged. “I love her, but she’s kind of blunt. A bit like Wren. Not sure I want to start with her, either.”

  “You have another aunt. Dani, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I absolutely love her. She was actually my prof for my introduction to Psychology class. If she lived closer, I would probably have told her already.”

  “But she doesn’t, so Sage it is. You should tell her soon. Maybe tonight?”

  “Maybe.”

  In other words, no. But Rosie had already pushed hard enough.

  “Guess I should get back to painting my house,” Rosie said, going toward the door.

  Outside a woman ran by the window, traveling at quite the pace. A blonde woman, dressed in black pants and a white shirt…

  Sara Maria!

  Rosie hurried out of the shop and dashed after her. She was soon overtaken by Brant. They ran for over a block, before realizing Sara Maria had too much of a head start on them. Gradually they slowed their pace.

  “Wh-what was that a-about?” Rosie huffed, trying to catch her breath. She’d didn’t think she’d sprinted that fast since her last track and field event in high school.

  Brant looked exasperated. “All I said was—” He stopped, thought a minute, then shook his head ruefully. “I guess I should have been more tactful.”

  “Oh, no, Brant.”

  “Look, I was just saying what needed to be said. Her employer needs to know she requires supervision around equipment like gas ranges and ovens.”

  “Brant, that time you told me she left the oven on and almost started a fire—how old was she?”

  He took a few minutes to think. “A teenager, maybe.”

  There were ten years between them, and Brant had left home at eighteen. “So you were already working and living at Three Bars Ranch?”

  “No. I was still at home. So she must have been younger.”

  “Eight, Brant. If you were still at home, she couldn’t have been more than eight. Don’t you think it’s possible she’s matured a bit since then?”

  They were half a block from the care home now, but Brant abruptly stopped walking.

  “So, you think I’m a jerk of a brother.”

  “I wouldn’t have put it that way. But it this case… yeah.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’ve had enough for today.”

  “Enough what?”

  “Enough of trying to protect my sister. Enough painting. Enough of…”

  She held her breath wondering if he’d say you.

  “Just enough, okay? I’m going to take off for a while.”

  And then he did exactly that.

  *

  Brant was steaming mad for most of the hour drive back to the ranch. He hardly noticed the beauty around him. The golden aspen trees showing off against the blue Montana sky. The geese flocking in perfect formation for their migration south. The silver dustings of snow on the tops of the highest mountain peaks.

  It seemed in that moment there was precious little to enjoy in life.

  It was so easy for others to judge. They had no clue what it had been like, growing up as Sara Maria’s brother. All the bullies he’d had to fend off for her. All the days and nights he’d had to forgo playing with friends because he had to look out for his kid sister.

  His mother had been grateful—but never Sara Maria. She’d always acted like she was putting up with him as much as he was putting up with her.

  And Rosie. Every single time an issue came up she took Sara Maria’s side over his. One would think after the night they’d spent together she would have been a little more understanding.

  Back at the ranch he hunkered down in the bunkhouse, curtly refusing an offer to play poker with the guys. Still, the sound of their laughing and roughhousing kept him up until they finally called it a night at eleven o’clock.

  Even in the silence though, he couldn’t fall asleep.

  Eventually his anger subsided and he was able to see the situation from another angle. Many of his ideas of what his sister could and could not do were based on the past. Sara Maria was eighteen now, and she’d matured, especially since the death of their mother.

  While Rosie hadn’t had to look after a challenging younger sibling, she had been down a similar road as him, making sacrifices for the sake of someone she loved. How had she managed to give up so many years to look after her pare
nts without turning bitter?

  Was hers an example he could maybe learn from?

  Once he’d admitted his culpability—and faced up to the atonement he needed to do—Brant finally fell asleep. The next morning he was determined to set matters right, starting with his sister.

  He drove straight to the care home and tracked her down.

  She was in the far corner of the lounge area, sitting by a window and reading that damn Kant book again.

  “Hey, sis, I’ve come to apologize.” He dragged one of the chairs closer to her and sat down.

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “That job is perfect for you and I screwed it up. If I can help set things right, I’ll be glad to do it. Want me to go talk to that boss of yours?”

  Finally Sara Maria set her book down on her lap. “Yesterday Rosie told me to go back to work. To tell them I could do the job and that I was sorry for running out the way I did.”

  He reared back a few inches. “And what did your boss say?”

  “She said it was fine, but not to run out again if I got angry. She said I need to go to her and tell her how I feel. And I said I would.”

  “Well, that’s good. So you still have the job?” He ought to feel more relieved about that.

  After a bit of reflection he realized he’d been looking forward to solving the problem for her. Not very commendable on his part.

  “She said I make the best pies she’s ever tasted. She said she’d be a fool to lose me because I might go into business for myself and become her competition.”

  Sara Maria gave a small smile here, and it hit Brant in the gut. She so rarely smiled around him.

  “Way to go, sis. I guess there’s nothing more for me to do then.”

  “No.”

  Brant stood up. He wasn’t sure his sister had accepted his apology, but at least he’d made it. Now it was time to face Rosie.

  *

  “Damn this paint can. It feels like it’s been glued shut.” Rosie’s straight edge screw driver was pried between the can and the lid. Even using all her weight on the lever, she couldn’t get the darned lid to budge.

  “Let me help you with that.”

  Her muscles tensed. Slowly, she stood up. Brant was walking across her front lawn. Behind him was his parked truck. Thanks to a neighbor mowing his lawn three doors down, she hadn’t heard him drive up.

  Her mouth felt dry as she watched him approach. She would have loved to see his eyes but it was a bright, sunny day and he was wearing the sunglasses he used for driving.

  Was he still angry with her? She wouldn’t blame him if he was. She’d been awfully blunt, in a situation which really wasn’t any of her business. He’d asked her to spend time with his sister—not to become her caregiver.

  Still, she didn’t regret what she’d said. Even if this was going to be the end of her relationship with Brant, well, that had never been intended as a long-term thing anyway. And if driving some truths home with Brant ended up making Sara Maria’s life easier, it would be worth it.

  As Brant drew closer, he held out his hand.

  At first hope flared—he was reaching out for her. But then she realized he just wanted the screwdriver.

  She passed it to him and, of course, the lid popped open as easily as a jar of homemade jam.

  Brant stood tall and finally slipped his glasses up on his head. The expression in his mossy green eyes was certainly not angry.

  “I’m sorry for yesterday, Rosie. I was out of line.”

  “Oh, Brant.” Relief washed over her. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m glad you did. I’ve had this idea of who Sara Maria is and what she’s capable of. I’ve been living with that idea for years. And I’m only now realizing it’s way out of date.”

  “I think she’ll be very glad to hear you say that.”

  A frown line formed between his eyes. “I was just talking to her ten minutes ago. I went to say I was sorry and to offer to try and patch up the situation at work. But she told me you’d spoken to her yesterday. The advice you gave her—it was solid. And it worked. She’s still got her job.”

  “I’m so glad. Being gainfully employed will make her feel useful. And that’s important. Especially now that she’s eighteen.”

  “Eighteen. Old enough to vote. Guess I’m going to have to start thinking of my baby sister as an adult.”

  “If you also treated her like one that would help your relationship a lot.”

  “Hey, can we hold off on the lectures? I’m still a little bruised from the last one.”

  “Fair enough.” She looked down at the can of aqua paint. “Now do you want to do the front door or should I?”

  “You take the door, I’m going to give the window trims one last coat.”

  “I can’t believe we’re almost finished.”

  “By tomorrow for sure. A whole day earlier than I expected. Say, did you talk to Maddie Cash yesterday?”

  “She had an unexpected offer come in for another property, so we pushed back our meeting to today. She said she’d drive by the house around noon.”

  “Okay then, let’s get busy. See if we can’t impress the hell of her with what a beautiful house this is.”

  Rosie smiled then picked up her paint brush. Since Brant was working on a different side of the house today, she didn’t have his hot body, or conversation, to distract her. By ten minutes to noon, she’d finished the last coat of paint on the front door. She stepped back to the street so she could admire the overall effect, and that was when Maddie drove up.

  The realtor, looking stylish in a smart linen pant suit that hugged her figure as if it had been sewn in place, got out of her car.

  “Rosie, I love the colors you chose. The ivory and white are timeless. And the aqua door gives the house a touch of pizazz.”

  “Thank you.” Rosie gazed fondly at the home she’d lived in for all of her life.

  It had needed this facelift so badly, but now with the fresh, clean paint job, the essential beauty of the place shone through.

  As did the memories.

  She could recall her mother waiting on the porch for her to come home the first day she was deemed old enough to walk to and from school on her own. In the far corner was the apple tree Daniel had dared her to climb when she was only six. She’d managed to make it to the first bough, and then he’d left her stranded while he went inside and got a popsicle, which he promptly ate in front of her.

  It was going to be so hard to leave, when the time finally came.

  “I think another open house is definitely in order.” Maddie pulled out her phone to check her calendar. “What about this Saturday? Or would Sunday be better?”

  “Either date works for me.”

  “Excellent. We’ll make it Sunday. Rosie, I wouldn’t be surprised if we had an offer within the week. I’m so excited for you!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  At four o’clock Rosie left Brant to put the finishing touches on the trim while she showered and changed, then headed downtown to pick up some steaks, baking potatoes, and greens for a salad. By the time she returned, Brant was folding up his ladder.

  “Well, darlin’, we’re done. What do you think?”

  She stood slightly behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders and gazing in admiration at her house. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure. As for me, I sure appreciate all you’ve done for Sara Maria.”

  “Was it a fair deal? I feel like I got the better part of the bargain.”

  “I assure you, I don’t feel cheated in the slightest.” He turned then so he could wrap his arm around her. With his other hand he touched her chin, studied her expression, then kissed her.

  Rosie suddenly had no interest in steak.

  And neither, apparently, did he.

  *

  Two hours later, however, Rosie was ravenous. She lifted her head from Brant’s sculpted chest.

  �
��How does that steak sound now, cowboy?”

  His eyes brightened. “Yeah. I forgot about those.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She checked the time on her phone surprised to see it was only six.

  They dressed, and then Brant went outside to fire up the barbecue, while she pulled the seasoned steaks from the fridge and prepared the veggies, nuking the potatoes which could then be finished in the barbecue.

  When Brant came back inside, he had a bottle of red wine, which he opened and then filled two glasses.

  “To your future, Rosie.”

  Anxiety pinged in her stomach. Living for the day was fine, but only when she never thought about tomorrow. She would have preferred to toast to their future.

  But she forced a smile. Had a sip of wine and then another. Soon she convinced herself that not until her house actually sold did she need to worry about being separated from Brant.

  “Barbecue should be hot now. I’ll put on the grub.”

  She handed him a pair of tongs and the plate with the meat and foil-wrapped potatoes.

  While she was setting the table, the house phone rang, reminding her she really ought to cancel the service. Almost all her calls came through her cell phone anyway.

  “Hello.” She watched through the window as Brant put the food on the grill. He noticed her and winked.

  “Rosie, glad you’re home. You didn’t answer your cell.”

  It was her brother. “Sorry, I must have left it on mute. What’s up?”

  “I have big news!”

  Rosie moved to the island, turning her back to the window.

  Daniel sounded so excited. For a second she wondered if Glenda might be pregnant. But that wasn’t it.

  “One of the major networks really likes our script. They’re optioning it for a TV show, with plans to start shooting in just three months!”

  “Wow, Daniel. Wow.”

  “Right? And there’s more.”

  Rosie sank onto one of the bar stools. “What?”

  “I’ve given them a series overview and they love that, too. They want us to start working on the next episodes.”

  “Hang on. This sounds serious.” Daniel’s scripts had been optioned before, only to have production stall for years.