Sugar Rush

by Rachel Astor

  It amazed him that his father could leave the door open with so much noise all the time.

  “I wanted to talk to you about this,” Nick said, waving the invitation.

  His father squinted. “Oh, the Chocolatiers thing?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I was thinking we wouldn’t enter this year. It’s a lot of work.”

  “I’d like to try.”

  His father looked up from his desk. “Why?”

  Nick thought about explaining how he needed a creative outlet; if there was one thing his mother had taught him, it was that creating was fuel for the soul. But his dad would never understand that. Nick also couldn’t just blurt out that he was terrified his father would hand over the reins of How Sweet It Is to Jack Miller, the guy who’d been his right-hand man for over ten years. Nick’s father was getting ready to retire soon and needed someone to take over—it was what Harvard had been all about, but his father had also made it known that Nick wouldn’t just be handed the position if he didn’t impress. And he had to impress. Taking over How Sweet It Is had been his primary goal for years, was the only thing he’d ever cared about working toward. It was a family business—his family’s business—he couldn’t just let it get handed over to some…outsider.

  And Nick certainly had no interest in starting all over again on the bottom rung of someone else’s corporate ladder—or the much lower salary that would provide—and he knew this could be his only chance at a grand gesture to prove he was up to the task. He had to show some initiative, make his father believe he was the guy to move the company forward.

  “It could be good exposure,” he said. “A new flavor could boost sales, get people interested again.”

  His father made a face. “Have you seen the customers out there? I’d say there’s plenty of interest.”

  “Sure, but we could always use more, right? A little boost to the bottom line?” Nick raised his eyebrows.

  His father thought for a moment. Nick passed the invitation from hand to hand.

  “I suppose it would give you something to do,” his father said.

  Oh, sure, never mind that I’ve taken on most of the administrative work around here, Nick thought, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You’d better come up with something damned good,” his father said. “Food critics love to make a huge deal out of new flavors. I’m putting a lot of faith in you here. A couple years back, that awful store across town had a hell of an entry. Some dark chocolate covered watermelon jelly thing.” He laughed hard for a moment, breaking off into a cough. “It was the same year we won with the Raspberry Truffle, I think. Man, sales soared afterward, but I’m pretty sure the food people had a heyday with that watermelon disaster. Actually, I think the tourist association lowered their star rating due to the poor showing.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “Whatever you do, just don’t embarrass me like that.”

  “Of course,” Nick said, allowing himself to be excited only on the inside. “You won’t be sorry.”

  His father sort of grunted, which Nick took as his cue to escape back to his office.

  Chapter Two

  “What’s this?” Lila asked the next afternoon, following Dulcie to the back office and picking up the stupid invitation.

  Lila came to the store to see her on Saturdays, since Dulcie always worked weekends, but Lila never complained…she was already working on her fifth Cherry Cordial.

  Dulcie sighed, wishing she’d tossed the damned thing. “It’s just this…contest.”

  Lila raised an eyebrow. “Contest? I like contests.”

  “It’s that candy one.”

  “Well, if anyone knows candy, it’s you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not your everyday candy-making thing. It’s like…coming up with the next big flavor. The Chocolatier’s Taste of the Year competition.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember when you guys used to do those. I used to get so jealous when you got to go in for those weekend trips to Boston. What I wouldn’t give to be a judge.”

  Dulcie rolled her eyes. Good thing Lila was her best friend, because she would do anything for sugar. “Yeah, but…”

  “But what?” Lila said, licking her fingers. “You’re as good as anyone else is.”

  “Mom was. I’m not,” she said, shrugging, picking up the next bill.

  “Yes, you are. I’ve seen you doodling recipes all over the place. It’s in your blood to create.”

  Dulcie snorted. Sure, she dreamed of endless candies to try, but that did not make her a candy genius like her mom.

  “Holy mother of all things sweet and sugary, you have to enter. Look at this prize money! If you won this, you could take a night or two off, even free up some time to go on a date.”

  “I am going on a date, remember?”

  Lila sighed. “The local jazz lounge with your best friend does not count as a date.” She shook her head like Dulcie was the saddest thing in the world.

  Perhaps she was.

  But she couldn’t justify using up a ton of time with someone only to find out he wasn’t the right person. What a ridiculous waste.

  Dulcie shuffled through a few more bills and tried to push the contest out of her mind. Still, she found herself mentally making batches of chocolates, some safe like a strawberry fondant enrobed in 90 percent dark chocolate, and something crazy, like an orange sponge toffee wrapped in a fluffy cloud of chocolate cotton candy.

  Melt in your mouth all the way through.

  She bet the judges had never tried anything like that before.

  She shook her head, realizing how ridiculous it was. There was no way she’d ever submit something she made up again…even if she did find the guts to enter. Mom’s and Grams’s recipes were Candy Land Confections. Not hers.

  Dulcie’s had never gotten them anywhere but sent home.

  She closed up the shop at eight, and by nine she and Lila were settled in at the jazz lounge.

  “So, what about him?” Lila asked.

  Dulcie flopped her elbows on the table, crossing her arms. “Are you kidding? Seriously, Lila, can you stop for one night? I need a break. Grams already gave me heart palpitations about my outfit before we came.”

  Lila laughed, and Dulcie swore she and Grams were cut from the same cloth. “I assume she lost the battle?” Lila asked, giving Dulcie the once over.

  “What’s wrong with this?” she asked.

  Dulcie figured jeans and layered tank tops were safe. She even had makeup on and everything. Well, mascara and lip gloss, anyway.

  “You look fine,” Lila said. “I’m just guessing Grams didn’t pick this.”

  Dulcie rolled her eyes. “She wanted me to wear a bustier.”

  Lila snorted. “Oh yeah, I imagine you’d be real comfortable in that.”

  Dulcie raised her eyebrows in agreement as the music started. When the first notes played, the stress slowly oozed away. She could get lost in a moody blues song faster than anything. Sure, she got lost in making candy all the time, but that was still physical work. This…this just let her sit back and relax.

  She and Lila were the youngest in the crowd by about ten years. Dulcie could only ever drag her friend to the jazz bar if afterward she promised to go to the diner next to the hottest club in town to scan for eye candy. Of course, that didn’t stop Lila from grooving the whole time they were listening to the jazz.

  Dulcie leaned into her chair and closed her eyes, opening them again only after she got good and comfortable.

  And when she did, it was so worth the preparation.

  She’d never seen a guy close to her age in a blues band before.

  It was magnificent.

  He played his bass guitar without having to watch the chords, totally immersed in the music. Watching him sent shivers through Dulcie, electricity riding on the waves of the notes, flowing into her soul. He looked as good as he played, in jeans—the kind made to look worn but were probably designer—and a T-shirt, but his vintage Gatsby cap told her he li
ked a little individual style. His hair, the color of a perfectly roasted coffee bean, fell a bit longer than she normally liked on a guy, but somehow it worked, framing his deep, soulful chocolate eyes. His lips demanded most of her attention, though; full, with a hint of a smirk, but not in a smug way—more mischief behind it than ego.

  “Oh my God,” Lila said, staring at her. “Am I out of my mind, or is Dulcie Carter actually into someone?”

  Dulcie glared.

  “Ooh,” she said. “You definitely are.”

  “I am not.”

  “Defensive, defensive,” she said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  Hard as Dulcie tried, she couldn’t peel her eyes off him.

  Screw it. Even if Lila tortured her forever, it wasn’t like she didn’t torment her all the time anyway. Oddly though, Lila just leaned back to enjoy the music, too.

  His hands slid across the bass with ease, like he’d been performing his whole life. It was as if he felt the music, playing into it…becoming it, more than just following along.

  Duclie breathed it in. Breathed him in.

  Too soon, the set ended. An unjustified sadness swept through her, like she’d lost something and didn’t even know what it was. When he walked off stage with the rest of the band, her heart raced. What if she never saw him again?

  “Good band tonight,” Lila said, breaking her out of her trance.

  Dulcie stared at the place he’d walked off, disappearing out of her life. “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

  Lila smirked. “I’m going to grab another martini.”

  Dulcie sat alone, stirring her drink, watching the ice swirl in circles, first clockwise, then counter clockwise, dying to know who he was, and if she would ever get to see him play again.

  …

  Nick saw her from the stage. Of course he saw her. No doubt every guy in the room saw her. She sat inside herself, slightly hunched over, a little uncomfortable in her own skin. He was too far away to see the color of her eyes, but they were light, piercing in contrast with her dark lashes and hair. She had it pulled back but it was still a little messy, like she’d worked all day and hadn’t had much time to get ready.

  Which made her even more perfect.

  Her friend was the one who was really put together—fancy top that sparkled, plenty of makeup. But there was something about the other girl, in her plain top and faded jeans, that accentuated her curves and made Nick breathe just a little deeper.

  He’d peeked out from behind the curtains ten times before they went onstage, just…watching her glance around, sort of anxious.

  He felt a little anxious himself all of a sudden.

  As they’d played, Nick took tiny glances, hoping she wouldn’t catch him, though almost as badly, kind of hoping she would. A few times she looked at him and he almost stumbled over a note or two. Come on, man, he thought. Keep some semblance of cool.

  When the set finished, Nick stole another peek through the curtains. The friend had gotten up from the table.

  He’d been told he was a catch, and he played the part and everything, but deep down, the remnants of his chubby days in middle school sometimes haunted him.

  He sucked in a breath and stretched his neck from side to side, pulling his shoulders back and trying to put on that face most women found charming. He took a step toward the table.

  “Hey,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit with you? You’re, like, the only ones under the age of forty here.”

  Great, make up lame excuses to be near her. Stellar opening.

  The girl startled, blinking.

  He kept the smirk plastered on, trying to ignore the prickles along his arms.

  Finally, she nodded. “Um, sure.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t get enough of the music, but I hate that I’m like a toddler at these places.”

  She smiled, and Nick suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Do you come here a lot?” he finally asked. Oh, wow. He cringed. Conversational genius.

  She shook her head, like she was coming out of a daze. “Sorry,” she said, though Nick wasn’t sure what she apologized for. “Uh, once in a while, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “You?”

  He shrugged. “Been here once or twice. First time playing, though.”

  “You were amazing,” she said shyly.

  “Thanks. I’m Nick, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Dulcie,” she said, her handshake a little tentative.

  Everyone said a handshake told a lot about a person, but Nick had no idea what hers meant. Worse, he forgot to try to figure out what he said with his own.

  The tension became a living thing, pulling and tugging. She leaned in closer to him, which he took as a good sign. The sounds of the club faded away as he leaned in, too.

  She smelled like cinnamon and coffee, with a hint of vanilla, and he wanted to close his eyes and just breathe. At least he still had enough sense to realize that might appear rather batshit to a girl he just met, so he sat there, a smiling goof. “So…blues, eh?” he said.

  She nodded. “I love it. It just takes all the stress away, you know?”

  His heart sped up just a little. “Me, too. It’s like you can just let it take you away.”

  “Exactly. So much other music is like panicky or something, makes me anxious.”

  “I know,” Nick agreed, wondering where this woman had been all his life. None of the girls he’d dated in college had been even remotely interested in jazz. “The popular music never seems to talk about anything having to do with real life. It’s all malls and parties and trolling for girls.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think my co-workers would appreciate it if I blared that all day at work.”

  “I play jazz at work, too,” he said.

  A moment of silence fell over the table while Nick’s mind churned, dying to find something witty to say.

  “Us poor working stiffs,” he finally said, then screamed at himself for being such an idiot. Silently, of course.

  “Does your job make use of your musical interests?” he asked.

  Dulcie took a sip of her drink. “Unfortunately, no,” she said, “but it’s a family business, so we can pretty much play anything we want.”

  He beamed; they had so much in common. “Mine, too.”

  Her face lit up almost as much as his.

  It was dumb, of course, to imagine a cosmic connection between them, especially since he’d never believed in that sort of thing, but this was the most head over heels he’d ever fallen in such a short time.

  They sat for a few seconds, bathing in the tension, moving another inch closer, when he spotted something, his eyes flickering over her chair, then widening.

  The logo on her jacket.

  No.

  “Candy Land Confections? That’s your family business?” he asked, leaning back, his voice higher than he would have liked.

  “Uh, yeah, sort of,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Why?”

  No. It couldn’t be. The first time in forever he found someone he actually felt something for and her family was Candy Land?

  He cleared his throat. “You guys have great caramel-filled macaroons.” He leaned as far back in his chair as possible…as far away from her as possible.

  “Thanks,” she said, and smiled. Damn, she had a great smile.

  He had no idea what to do, so of course he did the exact wrong thing. “Not as good as ours, mind you,” he said.

  Her eyebrows crinkled in a maddeningly cute way as she struggled to understand, and then…it hit her. Only one other place in town even made similar caramel-filled macaroons.

  Her mouth opened. “Oh my God,” she said, panic finding a home on her face, and she almost threw herself backward off her stool.

  Nick was already putting his coat on.

  “Seriously?” she said, sounding defensive. “You think your macaroons hold a candle to ours? You must be delusional.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, as d
elusional as the thousand customers who come in,” he said, leaning toward her again, “every day.” He regretted the words the moment they came out, but there was no taking them back.

  “Well, at least our candies are handmade, not out of some machine.”

  He rolled his eyes, even though secretly, he wondered if she were right. Of course, the way his father drilled it into him that technology was the way to go, his reactions were pretty much automatic by now.

  The tension he’d mistaken for the cosmic connection now pulsed more like hatred, palpitating the room in jagged, dangerous currents. He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction of walking away. He was the one who walked, though not before getting one more shot in. “See you in Candy Land,” he finished, forcing a laugh.

  He cringed at himself, mouthing a rather colorful word as he walked away, hating that he always got sarcastic, even borderline mean, whenever he was the least bit uncomfortable. It stemmed from his hellish days in school, he supposed. A kid as round around the edges as he’d been could only take so much before he became nothing but a constant stream of defensive chatter.

  She must despise him completely. He would, if it were him.

  …

  “What was that?” Lila asked, returning to the table. “You could see the sparks flying from across the room. I thought I’d better not come back until he was gone in case I got caught in the combustion.” Her eyes danced.

  “Shut up,” Dulcie said, definitely not wanting to talk about what had just happened.

  “Are you kidding me? I watch an exchange like that and I’m not supposed to be curious? My God, you two looked like you were ready to eat each other up, then all of a sudden he just left.”

  Dulcie shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it, even though it felt like the least shruggable moment in the world. How could a guy I thought was so perfect, even for a second, be such a supreme jerk?

  “His family owns How Sweet It Is.”

  Lila stared. “Um, yeah. So?”

  “Um, so, they’re our mortal enemies.”