Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology

by Gina Kincade

  Mike’s brow lifted. “’Our’ lives?” He lowered his arms, pushed away from the counter.

  Brad whipped his head up, met Mike’s smiling eyes.

  “Damn it. If you mention any of this to Kate, I’ll kick your ass,” Brad warned, waving a vegetable knife in the air between them.

  Mike laughed, reached out to punch Brad’s shoulder. “Mum’s the word buddy. But, I do have a favor to ask you then?”

  Brad cocked a brow, unsure of just what Mike had up his sleeve. And to be honest, Mike wasn’t exactly sure either. But what he did know was that he couldn’t let more time pass between them. Because if he did and he lost his chance with her, he’d never let himself live it down.

  “You remember once telling me ‘Kate was gonna demand a double date sooner or later’? Looks like that time is now, but I want you to suggest it.”

  Brad blanched. “You want me dead before my child is even born?”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Kate’s not even pregnant yet.”

  ***

  The following day, seated in his chair, pen in hand Mike jotted down notes as Mrs. Pinstler recalled the fallout of her latest bout with amnesia.

  From his pocket, his cell vibrated, yet he ignored it.

  For the better part of the day, each call, every text had his heart stop, hoping it was the message he was waiting for. Only to be let down each time.

  Of course he didn’t doubt Brad would come through. But they were dealing with women.

  Territory only ventured on by the bravest souls. So the stories said between men.

  “And I swear to ya, Doc,” Mrs. Pinstler’s voice rose an octave, cracking as her aged vocal cords changed pitch. “I woke up smothered in peanut butter. Which I was nowhere near prior, that I can tell you. Goodness, I don’t think I’ve even eaten peanut butter in years. You know, no teeth,” she added.

  “Well that definitely seems odd, Mrs. Pinstler, but in my professional opinion, I still would have to argue the probability that your Cocker Spaniel, Barney, was the culprit.”

  “Sure, with no thumbs only paws, it would seem I’ve gone lost my mind,” the elderly woman twisted on the settee, peered around the edge at him, wrinkles stretching across her forehead. “But I have seen him sit like a human on the couch, who knows what he can do.”

  Mike pulled back a grin, not at Mrs. Pinstler’s story, but the look of utter sincerity in her aged grey eyes.

  In his pocket, the vibration started again.

  This time, he withdrew it, caught the ID.

  Brad Winter, incoming call.

  Mike’s breath caught, eyes widened. “I need to take this, Gladys. Is that okay?”

  Gladys dismissed him with a wave of one wrinkled hand.

  Mike slipped out into the hall, the memory of Brad’s words forefront in his mind.

  ‘The one meant for you will brighten your smile, make you do all the stupid things.’

  And he had done stupid things since Pam Mason walked into his life, including scoping out her house, calling her repeatedly, even punching a man in the face.

  “Brad, tell me you have the news I’ve been waiting for.”

  Brad huffed. “Seriously. It’s only been six hours. I couldn’t just go to Kate at the hospital, now could I?”

  Mike sighed. “True. So, tell me you have good news.”

  “What I can say is that Kate has threatened to end my life if you hurt Pam.”

  Mike jumped in place, his heart pounding against his chest. “You’ll live a long life then, buddy. Long enough for your kids to give you gray hair.”

  Because Pam was the fire to his ice. She’d melted him in more ways than one. The one worth him fighting for, never with.

  ***

  Pam stood in only a towel in her bathroom, swiped a hand across the fogged mirror, revealing the face of the woman that was going to make attempt number three in the dating world.

  Her first attempt was Chad White. The pretty boy she met in a burger shack who one moment swooned her with eloquent conversation and flattering compliments only to flip into a vulgar, nasty man in the next breath.

  Her second was Nathaniel Corning. A name that exuded intelligence, however his conversation and manner were quite the opposite. The dinner date at a MacRiley’s Pub, his choice, ended with her seventy-five dollars lighter and seriously doubting the 2019 man.

  And now, number three. On Valentine’s Day. What a nightmare.

  Pam tried to argue the fact with Kate, but she’d hear none of it, even refusing to give Pam any details on the man.

  “A blind date on Valentine’s Day?” Pam grumbled. “You couldn’t wait one day so it wasn’t more awkward than need be?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s a double date,” Kate corrected as if that information would lessen the blow. But it didn’t. “And not a burger shack, this time we are dining in style, Silvio’s.”

  Just the thought of fine dining, her hair and outfit done up to impress made her stomach turn.

  “Good grief, that’s definitely not any better. I’m starting to wonder if I should continue to keep my love life in your hands.”

  Kate’s expression softened. “Trust me on this one. He’s perfect for you.”

  “Perfect for me,” she repeated and not for the first time her mind trailed to Doctor Michael Thorpe.

  Even though they shared a tense two days, one of which Pam saw red when she thought of him, he’d helped her burst through the wall she’d built around herself. And now, without it, she’d never felt better. She was back to work for the first time in years, attended weekly luncheons with the girls, and even started shopping for her own groceries instead of having them delivered.

  And all of it was because of him.

  Of course, her late husband still crossed her mind from time to time, but no longer as a debilitating, depressive memory. Instead she now recalled his smile, the way his dark eyes shimmered then thinned seconds before he pulled her in for a kiss. Theirs had been a deep love, one that stood the test of time. They rarely argued, never fought, and treated each other as if they were the only person in the world. And she’d been lucky to have had him, to have been loved by him.

  But now, two years later, she did miss the feeling of being loved like that, of being looked at like she was the only woman in the room, even dressed in her rattiest sweatpants and holiest t-shirt.

  And it was because of two people that she was ready to go out and try to find that kind of love again.

  One of them she really wished would just call her.

  ***

  Hours later, dark hair pinned up, a black curve hugging dress hidden beneath a winter jacket, she stepped up onto the curb outside Silvio’s, and directly into the path of a wide chest.

  Pam rocked back on her heels in surprise, looked up into sky blue eyes and a widening smile.

  Her heart skipped at the sight of him, palms dampened. After weeks of wondering about Michael Thorpe, wishing she’d run into him in a grocery store, here he was, in living color with a wide smile on his lips and one hand behind his back.

  “You look great, Pam.”

  She responded by stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, lifting a brow, and attempting to hold back the blush she felt rising up her neck under his gaze.

  “Doctor, to what do I owe the honor of seeing you outside yet another of my dates?”

  Mike’s smile waned. “You’re on a date? Here?” he motioned towards Silvio’s aged brick facade. “That’s coincidental. So am I?”

  Pam balked at his response, then pulled it back. After all, she may have been thinking of him daily, but that didn’t mean he had thought of her after he walked out of her home months ago.

  Never to be seen or heard from again.

  That is until tonight. Valentine’s Day. And they were both on a date.

  Great. Now the utterly awkward date she’d yet to walk into would only be multiplied knowing he was there too. Hell, what if their tables were close.

  Cleari
ng her throat, she forced a smile. “That’s wonderful.” Motioning towards the door, she added. “Go on ahead, I’m sure your date’s waiting. I need to freshen up anyway.”

  Mike lifted one corner of his lips, amusement playing on his face. “Out here? I’m sure inside would be better. Please, after you.”

  Pam shook her head to argue when Mike pulled the arm out he’d had hidden behind his back, produced a heart shaped pendant. Centered in the silver frame, a clock face with two separate hands ticked off the seconds. Attached to the top of the heart, a silver chain dangled between his fingers.

  “I was going to give it to my date inside,” he tilted his head towards the door where a large group of seven, boisterous, clearly intoxicated women emerged. “But it was pretty cramped in there, and I didn’t want to ruin my second chance at a first impression.”

  Pam’s mouth dropped open, her gaze moved from the silently ticking minute and second hands to his wide smile.

  “Yes, Pam. I’m your date tonight.”

  “What?” she blurted, remembering Kate’s words earlier.

  ‘Trust me on this one. He’s perfect for you.’

  And he was, that she’d found out many weeks earlier.

  She didn’t quite understand it considering the short amount of time they actually spent in each other’s lives, but when she was near him, enveloped in his gaze, a fire lit in her soul. One that not only made her say things she never thought she could, but feel things she hadn’t in far too long.

  And Kate knew. The moment this date was set, she’d known who it was with. Hence her refusal to give any information, including his picture.

  The group of women scattered around Pam and Mike, their laugher tapering off as they moved away.

  Mike cleared his throat, pulling her attention from her own thoughts to him.

  “A strong, passionate woman once said, ‘it’s time to make some happy memories’. And I couldn’t agree more, for the both of us.” He nodded towards the necklace, the silver pendant glittered under the full moon, held it out for her to take. “Together.”

  Pam blinked several times, thoughts tumbled through her brain.

  Together.

  Without reaching for the pendant, she replied. “What about the whole Doctor-Patient thing?”

  Mike’s strained face relaxed, his hand still held out between them, the silver chain sparkling under the streetlights.

  “Easy. You aren’t my patient anymore, haven’t been for over a month. I saw to having your file transferred to another doctor the day after I last saw you. Not because I didn’t want to see you again,” he paused and Pam’s cheeks flushed at the knowledge of what he would say next. “But because I did want to see you again.” With a shift of his feet, he added. “Because I haven’t been able to go a day without thinking of you, of seeing your face, your passionate eyes, your warm smile.”

  Pam’s cheeks flushed, her vocal chords frozen.

  “I know this is crazy. I know.” He shook his head. “I’ve thought the same thing. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, I mean not for a forty-five year old,” he began to ramble, clearly his nerves getting the better of him.

  “But damn it, Pam, I can’t fight it. It’s like you’re ingrained in my soul. Whatever happened that day in my office between us—”

  Pam finally finding her voice jumped in, “Connected us.”

  “Yes, exactly,” he nodded, the tension on his face slipped away at her admission.

  Pam smiled, inhaled deep, as she digested all he’d said in so few words.

  He loved her.

  Suddenly her winter jacket seemed overkill as her flesh heated under his gaze. Turning her attention back to the pendant, she reached a hand out, plucked it from his palm, held it in her own.

  The warmth of its contact sent goosebumps to her flesh. The excitement of his words zinged through her.

  She looked up, met his sky blue gaze and couldn’t help but smile. “I guess you’re not a troll after all.”

  Mike’s head cocked, one eyebrow lifted in confusion which only made her smile that much wider.

  Before he could speak, before she could over think, Pam did the one thing that Kate’s ‘New Year, New Me’ initiative was meant to. And that was living, making memories. Memories that would bring a warmth back to her cheeks, a smile to her lips. Ones that would make her feel alive again.

  Lifting up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, the silently ticking heart shaped pendant dangling between them and took his lips with the passion of a woman ready to live again.

  Find More From Roxy Matthews

  Want to keep updated on Roxy Matthews releases, check out these pages

  https://bluebaloo79.wixsite.com/roxymatthewsauthor/books

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  Other Titles by Roxy Matthews

  Pale Bay Treasures

  McBride’s Gem

  Numb

  Second Time Sam

  Drago’s Destiny

  Destiny’s Warrior

  From the Depths

  Holiday Resistance

  Hypno-Planticus

  Fame Nor Fortune

  About The Author

  Roxy Matthews, a member of the Silverleaf Writers Guild, is a self-published author of nine works to date, including full length novels, novellas, and short story collections.

  Her work has been featured in Suspense Magazine and several anthologies, including The Way Through by Polar Expressions Publishing and The Charmed Writers Flash Fiction Anthology 2019.

  In 2018 Roxy Matthews was named one of Canada's Best Writers of the Year by Polar Expressions Publishing.

  Lattes & Loneliness

  Bille Dale

  4 Flames

  Skip To Next Story

  Copyright © 2020 by Cybill Richey

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover designed by Cybill Richey

  Editing by Karen Hrdlicka

  This book is a work of fiction and meant for reading fictional enjoyment. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Billie Dale

  Visit my website at www.billiedaleauthor.com

  Dedication

  To my hubs who proves the little things are the best way to show love.

  Blurb

  When you're single, the best part about Valentine’s Day is the day after when eating your sorrows away with chocolate is half-priced.

  I’m the poster child for dating disasters. Still reeling from my latest fall into the bucket of the dump-me truck, a propositioning, surly barista spurs my bizarre imagination into overdrive.

  Am I so extra my best chance for love is a relationship formed from a wrong number text or a vulgar offer from an apron-wearing hothead?

  Sexy Rhodes Milam is more than my nemesis and keeper of my caffeine. He’s also the man I’m trapped in an elevator with on the one day for lovers.

  Chapter One

  “Hey, Lex. Sit, sit, let’s talk.” His thin pale lips offer a smile, but I hear it backing up.

  Beep, beep, beep.

  Oh God, there it is. The killer of hearts. The death of a relationship. The eater of relationship refuse.

  Hey, you there. Yes, you, the reader. Oh don’t get your panties in a twist because I’m breaking the fourth wall code, just give me a second. We need to chat for bit. So…I see the world through a series of animations. No one else hears or knows the actions taking place in my brain. For instance, right now a large blue polka-dot garbage truck prepares to grab me like a curbside trash can. I promise you, I’m not insane. Okay, maybe a smidge nutty but it’s all good. Ever since I was a child, life has been more manageable with the assistance of my imagination. It happens frequently, try to keep up.

  “We’re in different places and the spark is not there
.” Vroooom. Long steel clamps grab my waist, lifting me high. “It’s best if we don’t continue. Good luck.” Ahhhh, I soar high before dropping in the bucket. The dump-me truck plops me on the broken hearts pile of waste as Steven slinks out the door.

  “Order up for, Lexi,” calls from behind the counter.

  I shuffle forward, wondering how the hell this shit always happens to me. I’m distracted when I grip the orange, sleeve-covered cup. Stupefied, I spin face-planting into a chest. “Oh, oh.” I recoil. The coffee sloshes, which is a crime against caffeine, and since I’m not a lawbreaker, I fight to keep it from spilling by teetering on my heels. Strong hands grip my arms, stabilizing my wobble. Electricity zips through my veins, ping-ponging goosebumps and sprouting hair growth on my shaved legs. Feet secure, I harden my tongue-wagging gaze, angling my head to the broad-chested offender’s face.

  Despite my trip to the trash heap of singledom moments ago, the blue-eyed, ebony-haired, muscle-bound, apron donning barista warming my body turns me into a cartoon dog, bug-eyed, howling with delight. Ahooooogha!

  His pink lips tug up on one side. “I couldn’t help but notice your dilemma. Wanted to be the first to comment on how douchy it is to dismiss a person in a café.”

  Heat sweeps up my neck. “Well I…I”

  “I’d like to offer my services.” His smirk cranks higher, crinkling his eye and I swear it twinkles, but it could be my imagination.

  I cock a hand on my hip, channeling my inner Georgia attitude. “What kind of services?” Blink, blink, flirty eye flutter.

  His large fingers grab my chin, rolling my face in a circle. “Got a wayward eyelash?”

  Batting eye fail. Abort, abort.

  I lean out of his hold. “No. Yes. It’s gone. Continue.”

  The eye sparkle spreads to both baby blues and his tilted grin opens to a full toothpaste commercial worthy man-child smile. “I’m your rebound guy. The one you use and abuse with breakup sex, until you riot with vindication. I’ll be the sacrificial orgasm providing lamb.”