Brothers and friends were sweet. He would have preferred hot or sexy. But maybe that was where ex-husbands fitted in. He didn’t much like the moniker. “Do you know where you want to settle?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m the settling type.”
Not surprising. Sarah had always seemed to have a case of wanderlust. When she’d moved into his apartment in Seattle, everything she owned fitted in her car. “How much longer does your postdoc last?”
“It’s hard to say after the accident. I estimate my funding will last a few more months, then I’ll have to find a new position. I’m thinking about applying to the Global Volcano Monitoring Project.”
The word global raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “What’s that?”
“A nonprofit group that sends scientists all over the world, particularly to third-world nations, to set up volcano-monitoring systems and teach locals how to use them.”
A sense of dread took root in his stomach. “Sounds interesting. Important.”
She nodded. “It would be great experience and an adventure. I’d be able to do a lot of good.”
“You would.” So why did this sound like a bad idea to him? Maybe because he would never see her again. But they were getting a divorce. He wouldn’t see her again no matter where she lived.
Cars passed by on the road. Neighbors greeted one another. A woman pushed a baby stroller. A tourist stood in the middle of the street snapping photographs.
“I see why you want to settle here,” she said.
“Yeah.” This was where Cullen wanted to be. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Sarah living in some remote village in Central America? He realized they’d reached their destination. He stopped and pointed to the wood plaque hanging from the building. “This is your surprise.”
Sarah read the words written in gold script. “‘Welton Wines and Chocolates.’ Two of my favorite things.”
“That’s why I wanted to bring you here.” Chocolate was the second-best way to get rid of Sarah’s frustration. The first way was more fun, but not possible with her. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened the door. A bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. “After you.”
Her eyes gleamed like emeralds. “Thank you.”
He followed her inside. “You’re welcome.”
Warm air greeted Cullen, chasing away the cold. The aromas of chocolate and wine made his mouth water. The atmosphere was comfortable yet not too casual. Zoe Hughes had helped with the interior design. Chocolate was displayed to their left. A wine bar was on the right. In the back were black tables and chairs.
“This could be a dangerous place,” Sarah whispered.
Not half as dangerous as her. “Let me have your coat.”
Her eyes widened. “We’re staying?”
“This wouldn’t be much of a surprise if we walked in, turned around and left, now, would it?”
She grinned wryly. “I like your style, Dr. Gray.”
Too bad Sarah hadn’t liked him enough to stick with their marriage. No, that wasn’t fair. Cullen bore responsibility for the breakup, too. He hung up their jackets on the hat tree by the door.
Christian Welton, a firefighter and Leanne’s fiancé, shook his hand. “Good to see you, Doc.”
“This is Sarah Purcell,” Cullen said. “I wanted her to experience one of Owen’s chocolate tastings.”
“Great.” The firefighter looked at Sarah. His easy smile widened. “I’m Christian Welton. Nice to meet you. Leanne’s told me all about you.”
Sarah’s smile lit up her face. “Your ears should be burning. She said you were smokin’ hot, and you are.”
Leave it to Leanne and Sarah not to mince words.
Christian’s cheeks reddened. “Leanne mentioned the two of you had a lot in common.”
“You have no idea,” Cullen said.
Sarah’s lips pursed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Christian’s gaze met Cullen’s in understanding. “It means you and Leanne keep us on our toes.”
The bell on the door jingled. More customers entered.
“Take a seat.” Christian motioned them to the tables in back. “We’re getting set up. The tasting will begin soon.”
Cullen and Sarah sat at a small round table sporting a single red rosebud in a glass vase and a lit votive candle. The flame flickered. Romantic. He hoped she liked this.
She looked around. “This is great.”
The frown on her face didn’t match her words. “You sure about that?”
“I’m a little confused. I thought Christian was a firefighter.”
“He is, but his family owns a winery in the Willamette Valley,” Cullen explained. “Christian and his cousin Owen opened this shop a few months ago and run it together. Owen is also a chocolatier.”
She brightened. “That makes sense.”
The bell on the door rang again. More people entered the shop, including Jake and Carly Porter and Hannah and Garrett Willingham, who sat at a table together.
Sarah waved. “Do you want to join your friends?”
Cullen wanted her all to himself. “This is fine.”
Christian placed carafes of water, glasses and small plates of crackers on each of the tables. Next came paper place mats with squares numbered one through six and pencils for each taster. “Welcome to Welton Wines and Chocolate. Today we’ll be doing a tasting with our chocolatier, Owen Welton Slayter.”
Owen limped out from a back room, dressed in a white chef’s jacket and gray pants. He also wore a leg brace, thanks to his climbing accident back in November. “Today we’ll be tasting six samples, starting with milk chocolate that has the lowest percentage of cacao and ending with our darkest, most complex one. We’ve provided water at room temperature so it doesn’t affect the chocolate or dull your taste buds and unsalted crackers to cleanse your palate between each sample.”
“Is it a law all males must be attractive to live in Hood Hamlet?” Sarah whispered.
At least she still found him attractive. That pleased Cullen. “You’ll have to ask the sheriff.”
As Christian placed chocolate samples on the place mats, Owen lectured about the history of chocolate, beginning with the Mayans and Aztecs and the journey to Europe.
“This is in-depth.” Sarah sounded impressed.
“Only the best for you, Lavagirl.”
Her startled gaze met his.
Cullen understood her reaction. The words surprised him, too. But he meant them.
She opened her mouth to speak. “Cull—”
He touched his finger to her lips. So soft and smooth. Nothing like they’d been at the hospital. “Not now.”
“Allow me to give you a few pointers about tasting chocolate,” Owen said to the group. “Examine each sample. Look at the color and the texture. Smell it. Snap the sample in half. Does it sound sharp and crisp, soft and quiet or something in between? After you place the sample in your mouth, don’t chew. Let the chocolate melt on your tongue so you can experience the flavors as they unfold. If you have any questions, just ask.”
As Sarah looked at the place mat, her brows lowered.
Cullen scooted his chair closer to her. He wanted her to enjoy this, not be all tense and wary. “Let’s have fun.”
With a nod, she tasted sample number one, following Owen’s instructions as if she were doing an experiment in the laboratory.
“What do you think?” Cullen whispered.
“This one is smooth, but I prefer a stronger chocolate.”
He placed his arm around the back of her chair. “Mark what samples you like so we’ll know what to buy later.”
She tapped her pencil against the table. “Aren’t you going to keep track of your favorites?”
Cullen didn’t have to. He was looking at her now. “I’ll keep track, too.”
Amusement shone in her eyes. “Then you’d better taste your first selection or you’ll be playing catch-up for the rest of the session.”
He tasted the sample. “You’re right. Not rich enough for me.”
The next two had deeper flavors. Sarah decided number three was the tastiest. She drew a heart around the number on her placement.
He toyed with the ends of her hair, letting the silky strands slip through his fingers. She glanced up at him, but didn’t say a word. He took her silence as permission to continue.
“For centuries, many have touted the aphrodisiac qualities of chocolate,” Owen lectured. “Some scientists have tried to debunk this, while others have claimed it’s a psychological effect. Feel free to test this by feeding someone at your table sample number four.”
Sarah held a chocolate in front of him with a hesitant look in her eyes. “Do you want me...?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CULLEN WANTED SARAH more than he could say. But he knew she wasn’t asking that question. The chocolate would have to do. With a slight nod, he parted his lips.
She sucked in a breath. Her hand trembling, she brought the sample to his mouth.
He didn’t know if she was nervous over him or because she was using her left hand. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He liked the idea she might be as affected by him as he was by her.
She carefully placed the chocolate onto his tongue. “What do you think?”
The intense flavor burst in his mouth with a nuttier and buttery taste. The third sample had been more velvety with a hint of orange.
“I like it.” He picked up the fourth selection off his place mat. “Your turn.”
Something resembling panic flashed in her eyes, but she opened her mouth anyway. He brought the chocolate closer. The tip of her tongue came out. Cullen fed her the sample.
Sarah’s lips closed simultaneously with her eyes.
The aphrodisiac effects of chocolate might not be quantifiable, but he was feeling something. When she opened her eyes, the desire flaring in her gaze suggested she was feeling it, too.
He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he scribbled a star next to the number four on his place mat. “We’re buying this one, too.”
When he glanced back at Sarah, the tip of her tongue darted out once again and licked her lower lip.
Cullen wanted a taste. He leaned closer and kissed her. Gently.
She tensed for a moment, then relaxed and kissed him back. He pressed his lips harder against hers, enjoying the warmth, the sweetness and the touch of spice that was uniquely Sarah. As with the chocolate samples, the flavors unfolded one after another.
Her kiss filled the loneliness in his heart. He’d missed her so much. He didn’t want her to go back to Bellingham or anywhere else.
“Let’s move on to sample five,” Owen said.
Cullen drew back, even if would rather have skipped the rest of the tasting and continued kissing her. The confusion in her eyes matched how he felt.
He’d kissed her. He’d been with her a large chunk of the day. And he hadn’t felt himself losing control. If anything, he was finding himself. He wanted to be a better husband, even if he wouldn’t be one for much longer.
He marked his place mat with the pencil. “I’m going to want another taste of number seven.”
Her eyebrows bunched. “There are only six samples.”
“Seven, if I count you.”
She smiled shyly at him through her eyelashes.
He leaned closer. “I have a strong feeling number seven is going to be my favorite.”
Gratitude glistened in her eyes and something else. Something resembling...hope. “Mine, too.”
The tasting continued. Cullen forced himself to concentrate. All he wanted to do was stare at Sarah and kiss her again. Not in that particular order. But she was paying attention to Owen, so Cullen did, too, while wondering how he could keep things going so well between them.
Number five was delicious with a coconut, sugary taste and went on the to-buy list. Number six was too bitter.
As the tasting came to an end, people discussed their observations. Everyone liked something different about the samples.
Cullen rubbed her back. “Enjoying yourself?”
“What are we doing?” she said in a low voice.
“Tasting chocolate.”
“I mean...” She glanced around as if to see if anyone was listening. “You’re acting like we’re...”
“What?”
“Married.”
“We are.”
“For now.” She glanced over at the table where his friends sat. “But you’re doing all this lovey-dovey, couple stuff. I’ll be honest. I’m enjoying it. But I’m sure your friends have noticed. What are they going to think?”
She enjoyed it. Good. Him, too. So much so he didn’t want the lovey-dovey stuff, as she called it to end. “I don’t care what they think.”
“You said you told them about us.”
He nodded. “They know I filed for divorce.”
Sarah’s face paled. “You filed?”
She sounded shocked. He moved his hand off her back, but kept his arm on her chair. “I mentioned I’d gotten things started when you were at the hospital.”
She nibbled on her lip. “I’m sorry. You did, but I hadn’t realized that meant you’d filed.”
Okay, he was confused. What else would starting a divorce proceeding mean?
“No big deal who filed, right?” Except at the moment, when all he wanted was to kiss her again, he was wondering if he’d been premature in setting the divorce into motion. “I hope you’re not upset.”
“Not upset.” Her smile would have looked more natural on a mannequin. “I wasn’t clear on what you meant. Probably the concussion.”
“Probably.” But doubts clamored to surface. Hope spread. In a flash, dreams and plans he’d long since suppressed surged to the forefront of his mind. His heart battered against his rib cage. “You still want a divorce, right?”
As soon as he’d spoken the words aloud, he regretted them, afraid to hear her answer. What if she said yes? What if she said no? Even if he wanted to try again, how could he ever trust she would want to stick around long-term? Especially with her life in Bellingham and his in Hood Hamlet. Logically divorce was the best—the only—option. And one of these days his heart would catch up to his head and agree.
It was taking her a long time to answer. Too long.
Cullen stood, disgusted with himself for thinking they might stand a chance. “I’m going to buy some chocolate while you think about it.”
* * *
You still want a divorce, right?
If today was the benchmark for the future, then no, Sarah didn’t. She tapped the pencil so fast against the table she might as well have picked up Cullen’s and done a drum roll. But one day didn’t make a marriage. Nor did two, the amount of time they’d spent together before eloping.
Even if things went well, how long would it be before Cullen realized he could do better or got tired of her and took off?
She dropped her pencil. Probably not long.
The sooner she could get out of here the better.
And she didn’t mean this shop.
Carly walked up to the table with a big smile on her face. “It’s so good to see you and Cullen here.”
Hannah joined them. “I can’t believe how much better you look. You’re glowing.”
“Thanks.” Sarah didn’t want to have to smile and make conversation with Cullen’s friends who knew more about her marriage—make that the end of her marriage—than she did. But these women had become her friends, too. She could smile at them
. And did. “The doctor’s pleased with my progress.”
Carly winked. “The good doctor seems very happy.”
“The two of you look great together,” Hannah said. “Seems like more is healing than your injuries.”
Sarah pressed her toes into the ground so hard she was sure she’d split one of the floorboards. She understood these two women believed in a forever kind of love. They meant well, but she didn’t know how to answer them. “Anything can happen.”
She hoped that satisfied them.
“Especially here in Hood Hamlet,” Hannah said.
Carly beamed. “Christmas magic in June.”
Sarah had no idea what Carly was talking about. “Magic doesn’t exist. It’s nothing more than an illusion.”
The two women shared a look.
“Of course you feel that way now. You’re a scientist,” Hannah said. “But after you’ve been in Hood Hamlet awhile, you’ll change your mind.”
Carly nodded. “It happens to everyone. Including Cullen.”
Sarah remembered he’d mentioned Christmas magic when they’d arrived in town, but this was too woo-woo for her analytical brain. Magic no more existed than did everlasting love.
A good thing. She couldn’t allow herself to be lured in by any yearning, whether it was to believe in magic or in love or a happily-ever-after. “I won’t be in town long enough for that to happen.”
“It doesn’t look like Cullen’s ready to send you back yet,” Carly said.
Hannah nodded. “You have more healing to do.”
“I do.” But that wouldn’t change her beliefs. She was a scientist grounded in fact. She had to stand firm. If she weren’t careful, if she allowed herself to believe, her heart could be obliterated.
She glanced over at Cullen, wishing he would hurry so she could escape the scrutiny of his friends. But he was engrossed in a conversation with Jake, Garrett and Christian.
Cullen’s gaze caught hers. The happiness in his eyes did painful things to her stomach that had nothing to do with her surgical incision or broken ribs. She struggled to breathe.
What was going on? The man had filed for divorce, and he still had this effect on her? A divorce she’d brought up, a little voice taunted.
Winning Back His Wife Page 15
