Second-Chance Sweet Shop

by Rochelle Alers

  Aiden grimaced. “That does make it a little messy.”

  “I can think of another word to describe it. Enough talk about me. How are your kids?”

  “They’re all good. Taryn is still homeschooling the girls until they get to middle school, while Daniel believes all he has to do is scream to get what he wants.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Two.”

  Dwight smiled. “There’s a reason why they’re called the Terrible Twos.”

  “Didn’t your daughter graduate this year?”

  “No. She still has another year.” He had a Wednesday morning appointment with a dealer in Beckley to purchase a car for Kiera. He’d asked the dealer to order the same make and model, but a different color, as the one Victoria drove. Kiera was anticipating getting the car a week before the start of the new school year, and he knew she would be surprised when it arrived earlier.

  Dwight picked up a menu and ordered the daily special of baked chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus and corn bread, along with another glass of beer. He made it home to find Kiera in his kitchen sitting on a stool between Sasha and her grandmother.

  Kiera jumped and came over to hug him. “Hi, Daddy. We were waiting for you to come back so we can all eat together at Ruthie’s.”

  Smiling, he dropped a kiss on Kiera’s chemically relaxed hair. She’d taken out the braids and had the stylist relax her thick natural hair, set it on large rollers and trim the ends. Using a round brush and blow-dryer, she blew it out until it hung in stick-straight strands halfway down her back.

  “I’m going to have to take a rain check, sweetie. I already ate at the Wolf Den.”

  Sasha swiveled on the stool. “You went to the Den without me?”

  Dwight stared at the woman he wanted to hate for her duplicity yet couldn’t because he’d found himself in too deep. “Sasha, will you please step out on the porch with me? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “Are you going to ask her to marry you?” Kiera asked in a loud voice.

  “Kiera Robyn Adams, mind your manners!” Victoria scolded. “How many times have I warned you to stay out of grown folks’ business?”

  Kiera lowered her eyes. “Sorry, Grammie.”

  “It’s your father and Sasha you should be apologizing to.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. Miss Sasha.”

  Dwight nodded to Kiera. “Apology accepted.”

  Sasha slipped off the stool and came over to him. “I’m ready to talk whenever you are.”

  Cupping her elbow, he escorted her out of the house and onto the porch. Dwight waited for Sasha to sit on the cushioned love seat before dropping down beside her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Shifting, Sasha turned to look directly at him. “What’s going on, Dwight?”

  He blinked slowly. “That’s what I want to know, Sasha. What’s up with you and your ex-husband?”

  “Say what?”

  “Say what,” he repeated. “I came by to see you earlier this afternoon, and to say I was shocked is an understatement when I saw you locking lips with Grant Richards. I thought you never wanted to see him again. What’s next, Sasha? A reconciliation?”

  “It’s not what you think!”

  “No, Sasha. It’s not what I think but what I saw.”

  “What you saw is not what you think, Dwight.”

  He closed his eyes. “Please don’t tell me what I think. Right now, my thoughts are saying that I don’t trust you. And I’ve made it a practice not to deal with women I can’t trust.”

  “I want you to trust me when I say I can’t tell you why Grant came to see me and why he kissed me.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “I can’t. At least not now.”

  Dwight extended his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. He knew what he was going to tell Sasha would forever affect their relationship. “I think we should stop seeing each other until you can be truthful with me. Meanwhile, feel free to date other people.” He pushed off the love seat. “Please excuse me. I’m going inside.”

  * * *

  Sasha sat, numbed by what had just transpired between her and Dwight. He had just broken up with her. She had no idea he had seen her with Grant, and she’d promised her ex-husband that she wouldn’t say anything about his physical condition.

  She wanted to keep Grant’s secret, and she wanted to keep her man. This was the second time Grant wanted her to shield him from the public. The first was the nondisclosure when she was legally bound not to reveal the details of their marriage. Now he’d asked her not to talk about a disease that would eventually rob him of the ability to walk, talk, feed or relieve himself.

  Pulling her legs up and tucking them under her body, she closed her eyes and pressed her head against the back cushion. She’d walked away from Grant to start over, and when she least expected it, he’d walked back into her life to control her once again. When she’d opened the door to find him standing on her porch, her impulse was to close it and leave him standing there. Even before he’d revealed his diagnosis, she’d noticed the slight trembling in his right hand—something she didn’t remember when they lived together. He would periodically complain of fatigue, which she attributed to nonstop touring and too many late-night parties.

  Sasha opened her eyes and smiled. She wasn’t ready to give up Dwight Adams, not when she’d waited all her life to find a man who loved her for herself and not what she could do to enhance his life or image. Dwight lived and worked in Wickham Falls, which meant he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. She returned to the kitchen, smiling. “It looks like it’s just us ladies tonight.”

  Victoria walked over to her and placed her hand on Sasha’s arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. Why would you think I’m not?”

  The sweep hand on the wall clock made a full revolution before Victoria smiled. “Nothing. We can leave as soon as I get my bag.”

  * * *

  Dwight stood up when he heard the approaching car. This was the second time Kiera had broken curfew. He’d given her the car a month ago, and during that time he rarely saw her when she didn’t have classes or work at the bakeshop. He’d warned her the next time she came in after midnight she would forfeit her right to drive the car for a month. He watched her as she got out and then stopped when she saw him leaning over the railing to the porch.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy, that I’m late but I had to drop my friend off home. We had to wait before we could get a lane at the bowling alley.”

  “Where does your friend live, Kiera Adams?”

  “Mineral Springs.”

  “Is this friend a girl or a boy?”

  Kiera placed her foot on the first step. “It’s a boy but I swear I’m not doing anything with him.”

  “Are you dating this boy?”

  Kiera took another step. “Not really.”

  “Either you are, or you aren’t.”

  “We’ve seen each other a few times.”

  “You’re dating a boy from another town and not once did you think of bringing him home so I could meet him.” Dwight didn’t want to tell his daughter most kids from The Falls did not date kids who lived in the Springs because of a football rivalry going back at least a couple of generations.

  “Miss Sasha met him.”

  “You introduced your boyfriend to your boss and not your father.” Dwight had not seen or heard from Sasha since the day he confronted her about her ex-husband.

  “Miss Sasha is like a mom and I wanted her to let me know if she liked Enrique.”

  “Miss Sasha isn’t your mom, Kiera.”

  “I know, but she could be my stepmother if you married her. Why did you stop dating her, Daddy?”

  Dwight held out his hand and Kiera dropped the car fob on his outstretch
ed palm. He had no intention of discussing his relationship with Sasha with her. “You’ll get this back when I get to meet the boy who’s responsible for your breaking curfew and losing your driving privileges.”

  Kiera stomped up the steps and went into the house, slamming the door behind her. His daughter mentioning Sasha was a reminder of how long it had been since he last saw her. Dwight knew he was being a hardnose, because he didn’t want a repeat with her of what he’d had with Adrienne.

  He went inside and flopped down on a chair in the family room. Being a parent was hard. Being the parent to a teenager was trial by fire. Dwight picked up the remote device and flicked on the television, channel surfing until he found a show featuring entertainment news.

  He sat straight up, his eyes glued to Grant Richards’s image when it filled the screen. The man was chairing a news conference in which he was announcing his retirement from the music scene. Dwight did not want to believe what he was hearing. Grant had been diagnosed with ALS, and he had sworn his mother, manager and ex-wife to secrecy that they would not reveal the debilitating disease until after he completed his last tour because he did not want to disappoint his loyal fans.

  Dwight buried his face in his hands. When he’d asked Sasha to tell him about the encounter with her ex, she said, I can’t. At least not now. He didn’t want to believe he’d lost the woman who’d made him plan for the next day and years to come.

  He knew it was late, but he was past caring. He had to know if he had a second chance to make things right. Picking up the phone on the side table, Dwight tapped Sasha’s number.

  “Hello.”

  He knew he’d woken her. “Sasha.”

  “Yes, Dwight.”

  “Can you forgive me for being a selfish, jealous fool?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, darling. I know you had a right to feel the way you did, but I’d promised Grant that I wouldn’t tell anyone about his condition because it wasn’t mine to tell.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Dwight?”

  “What, babe?”

  “I love you so much.”

  “I love you more. Can you do me a favor?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Sasha’s distinctive laugh came through the earpiece. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Is that a yes or no, Miss Manning?”

  “Of course it’s a yes, Dr. Adams.”

  “What size ring do you wear?”

  “A six.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll go ring shopping before we officially announce our engagement.”

  Sasha laughed again. “Do you want a long engagement?”

  “No. Do you want children?” he asked.

  “We already have a daughter, so a son would be nice.”

  Dwight hadn’t thought about fathering more children until he fell in love with Sasha. And if they did have a child together, it would be raised as an only child because Kiera would be so much older than her sister or brother.

  “When do you want to start trying for a baby?”

  “Tomorrow. And I’ve always wanted a Christmas wedding.”

  It was August and if Sasha got pregnant right away then she would be at least three months along by the end of the year. “Are you sure you want to walk down the aisle with a belly?”

  “Yes. As long as it’s your baby in my belly.”

  “You keep talking like that and I’m going to come over there and take you to a motel where we can make up for lost time.”

  “Come on over, darling. I’ll be waiting on the porch when you get here.”

  Six Months Later...

  Sasha walked out of the bathroom, her eyes meeting her husband’s. What she’d expected was confirmed. She was pregnant. They’d been trying for a baby since the day before he slipped a ring on her finger, but with no results. They’d exchanged vows during a winter wonderland–themed wedding in the barn behind the Wolf Den. Her brothers and their families had come in for the event, and she and Dwight took a weeklong honeymoon on St. Thomas, returning more in love than when they left the States. Kiera hadn’t changed her mind about becoming a professional chef when she’d sent off applications to top culinary schools.

  Dwight pushed into a sitting position as he looked at her. “Why are you smiling?”

  Sasha slipped into bed next to him. “You did it. We’re pregnant.”

  Throwing back his head, Dwight howled like a wolf. “Congratulations, Mama!”

  Straddling his lap, she pressed her breasts to his bare chest. “Congratulations to you, too, Daddy!”

  Sasha could not believe all her dreams had come true. She’d married a man she loved, she was carrying his baby and she could claim an incredible stepdaughter and mother-in-law. And Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe had earned the reputation of offering some of the best desserts in Johnson County.

  * * *

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  Cooking Up Romance

  by Lynne Marshall

  Chapter One

  Lacy Winters pulled her bright pink food truck with the brand-spanking-new logo—Wrap Me Up and Take Me Home—onto the busy construction site at 10:45 a.m. Friday morning. Little River Valley wasn’t exactly the business hub of the state of California, being that the small city voted way back to never allow unnecessary building or chain stores of any kind. That was part of the charm and draw for the residents. However, Mayor Aguirre had recently made a deal for added senior housing in the town, which was tucked fifteen miles inland between Ventura and Santa Barbara. The homes were sorely needed since many adults chose Little River Valley for their retirement, and the sprawling homes that dotted the hills lining the valley were too big and expensive for most fixed incomes.

  Thanks to the mayor’s foresight, one hundred new cottage-style units were being built, and that meant a good-sized construction crew would be employed. Which also presented a great opportunity for Lacy, because on that construction site there would be workers who needed to eat.

  Before Lacy left home, she had posted on her social media page, the one with a photo of her standing in front of her foodmobile as the cover picture. Off on new adventure today. Wish me luck! #lookingfor
work.

  Her late father’s list of best businesses from back in his food truck days had included Franks & Gardner Construction at number one. After her permits and licenses for running the small business were in order, and the truck was repainted—which cost a fortune but was so worth it because, well, it was pink and had a great advertising logo on both sides—she’d looked them up and found out about their new building site nearby.

  She gulped a breath and drove the twenty-four-foot kitchen-on-wheels onto the dusty makeshift driveway, watching for nails or other damaging debris.

  “Here goes,” she whispered. Her heart fluttered from nerves as she headed toward the temporary on-site office trailer and parked.

  The city had strict rules for trucks like hers. Rules about when, where and the need for general approval to set up shop. In other words, she couldn’t park just any old place she chose. Except she had chosen this place, and she had seriously high hopes of getting the gig.

  Lacy wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. No. Not little ol’ redheaded maverick her. She cleared her throat and straightened the logo-laden apron, fully aware neon pink clashed with her hair. It was one small-style humiliation she’d have to swallow for the greater good—her new business! And since when did “style” and “Lacy” ever come up in the same sentence? But, back to her logo, branding was everything these days, and pink turned out to be her color. Who knew?

  She took the few steps from the steering wheel to the newly overhauled kitchen area and flipped the switch for the awning over the service window. Showtime! She watched proudly as it quietly opened, wondering if this was how actors felt when the curtains rose. All she could do was smile through the itchy excitement. She’d done it. She’d taken the next step in her life. And, boy, did she need a “next step” after all she’d been through this past year. Her mouth went dry and she took a swig of water.

  “May I ask what you’re doing here?” The deep masculine voice out of the blue surprised her, and she jerked as bottled water splashed over her chin and dribbled down her front.

  “Oh!” She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, acting casual, like she did this all the time—made cold calls at construction sites in hopes of drumming up new business. In her case, über-new business since, if she got this gig, it would be her first regular job as a food truck owner. Too bad her trembling fingers gave away her so-called nonchalant, just-show-up approach. “Um, yes.” She leaned forward onto the service window, forced to look down at the man, who appeared too young to be the long-time big honcho. Probably just his on-site guy. “I was hoping to talk to Mr. Franks?”