Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2)

by Michaels, Donna

  “Is there anything else you need me to do before I go?” Theresa asked, sticking her head around the kitchen door.

  She wiped her hands and walked toward her worker. “No, thanks, Theresa. You can leave. I’m done back here and can watch the store.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Okay,” she said, following the woman into the store front. “Have a good night.”

  She watched her employee leave. Employee. It was still a little strange to have one, instead of tackling everything on her own. She liked it. And her shop. She glanced around. Confection Connection was at the corner of a three-store block, and she loved having nearly two walls of windows. It let in a ton of light that gleamed off the display cases and round glass displays dotting the shop she did up in brown and light blue stripes. Even her tiny awnings outside carried the color scheme.

  Inside, she did her best to convey an upbeat, welcoming atmosphere by adding bistro tables along the windowless wall and stools at a small counter for costumers to enjoy coffee with their ice cream and other sweet treats. Pride straightened her spine and warmed her heart. Somehow, she managed to pull off the old-fashioned ice cream parlor feel in a brand new building.

  She’d come so far in just a year. How had that happened?

  Last January, she’d been facing eviction, destitute, going through a divorce, dodging bookies, praying for a miracle. Then one sunny winter morning, her prayers had been answered by a visit from her Uncle Al. More like a snatch ‘n’ grab. He showed up at her apartment with her cousins, Nico and Evie, packed up her meager belongings and carted her off to the Poconos.

  The bell rang above her shop door and Gwen breezed in, looking warm and chic in her winter gear, bringing Jill’s mind out of her dark thoughts. Dressed in a red beret and gloves, the beauty wore a white fur coat she’d been pleased to learn was a fake and a gift to the model for work she’d done to raise awareness of the real coats.

  “Tell me you have coffee at hand and a decadent slice of cake,” Gwen greeted. Slipping out of her coat, she draped it on a stool before occupying the next.

  “Yes and yes,” she replied with a grin and headed to the Keurig to get their version of happy hour started. “Rich? Or Belgium?” she asked, moving to her cake display.

  “Better make it Belgium. We had a visit from Bluebird today.”

  Jill carried two generous slices to the counter and slid one to her friend. “Who is Bluebird?”

  “Oh, she’s a peach of an older lady who likes to come in and complain about her food so she can get her meal for free.”

  She stilled and raised a brow. “Ah…”

  Gwen’s derisive laugh echoed through the store. “I take it she hit you up for something, too.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of the frowning woman before brewing another for herself. “She left here with a free pound of fudge.”

  “That old biddy,” her friend mumbled before sliding a forkful of cake in her mouth. She promptly moaned. “Damn, girl, my sister was right. You are a chocolate guru. This is so friggin’ good, it’s indecent.”

  She sat on the end stool and smiled. “Then I did something right.”

  “Better than right. It’s perfect. Will you marry me?”

  “Depends. Do you snore?”

  “No, at least, I don’t think so. But I doubt Mason does, and he’s much better looking than me.”

  She froze, then glanced sideways at the woman, wondering how in the world they’d gotten on the hottie subject.

  “Look, I know nothing happened between the two of you during that snow storm,” Gwen said, waving her fork around. “But there’s still plenty of snow outside, and Mason is a great guy. Maybe you should get stuck—”

  “If he’s so great, maybe you should.” Her stomach knotted as soon as the words left her mouth, but she continued to eat her cake like nothing was wrong. Because it wasn’t. Everything was fine. Just fine.

  “This isn’t about me,” Gwen countered, scooping up another forkful of Belgium bliss. “It’s about you and Mason.”

  “There is no me and Mason.”

  “Maybe there should be,” the model stated undeterred. “Almost every woman with a pulse in the tri-state area would love a shot at him.”

  “I don’t doubt that. He’s gorgeous. Heck, he could easily be mistaken for one of those Calvin Klein models plastered on billboards all over the big city.”

  Gwen nodded, sipping her coffee. “True. But, he’s more than a pretty face. The guy is a veteran and has a good heart.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

  “Because Lea said many have tried to catch him, but he hasn’t shown the slightest interest. Not since his busted engagement.”

  He’d been engaged? “Who in the world was the idiot who let him get away?”

  Her friend snorted. “I’ve no idea. I haven’t been around, and didn’t ask Lea, but whoever the girl was, she needs a heart transplant. Or maybe, just a heart. Mason is smart, a patriot, a hard worker…and you were next to me on the shore this past summer at the lake when he and eight other hotties dove off that dock. He’s built for sex.”

  Sweet mother of pearl, she’d been in heaven. Nine muscled hunks with board shorts soaked and sticking to their hard bodies as they lifted themselves out of the water mere yards away. “That was a glorious day.”

  “Amen.” Gwen sighed. “Kind of makes you all warm and tingly despite the cold snap going on outside.”

  “True.” Jill rode the wave of heat caused by memories of Mason and his yummy, wet ridges.

  Something about the guy had made him stand out from the others that afternoon, but she refused to dissect why. It didn’t matter. They were acquaintances and probably wouldn’t bump into each other for days.

  “Anyhow, the point I was trying to make was that Mason is special and deserves someone with a good heart. He deserves you.” The woman fork-pointed at Jill. “And you deserve him.”

  “Yeah, well…we already kind of had a talk and both agreed we’re too busy to date.”

  Gwen reeled back and blinked. “Honey, if you’re too busy to find time for that…” She fork-pointed in the general direction of the Wyne Resort. “Then you’re a bigger fool than his ex-fiancée.”

  Jill opened her mouth to respond, but Gwen held up her hand.

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything. I know you have your reasons.”

  “Yeah. A failed marriage.”

  “Hey, it takes two to make a marriage. You said that, remember? So, don’t even think of trying to take all the blame.”

  She nodded, unconvinced.

  “Seems to me Donny could’ve tried a hell of a lot more.”

  “He wasn’t always a jerk. In fact, the first two years were great. It was the last two that were bad,” she admitted with a sad shake of her head. She’d always cherish their first two years, and try to put the rest behind her. “He had a forklift accident at work that crushed his right hand, leaving him partially disabled. He couldn’t work. Couldn’t drive. And he had too much pride to go on disability.”

  “I’m sorry, Jill.”

  She blew out a breath. “Me, too. I tried to be there for him. To be his support, but I guess I wasn’t enough. He turned to drinking, and gambling, and possibly drugs.”

  After finding a packet of white powder in his pocket while doing their laundry one day, she’d confronted him. He’d jumped down her throat, told her to quit nagging and said a few other nastier things before he stormed out and didn’t come home for nearly two weeks.

  God, she’d been so frantic, visualizing all sorts of horrors, had barely slept, expecting a call or knock on the door from the police asking her to identify her husband’s body. Even had his family looking for him. When he’d returned, he was good for a while, until he found out she’d talked to his family. She shivered just thinking about that argument.

  “He was a
stranger,” she said, swallowing past old hurts. “It was like my husband had died the day he turned to them. He’d changed. Was not the same loving, caring man I married.”

  “Because he wasn’t,” Gwen said, squeezing her hand. “Drugs, alcohol, they change a person.”

  Something she certainly knew first hand, but the woman’s insight suggested she’d found out first hand, too. Jill squeezed back. “Sounds like you’ve had experience. I’m not judging. Just stating.”

  “Yeah, I do, but it’s not what you think,” Gwen said lightly. Casually. Too casually. “And it’s not important right now. Jeez. I’m one to talk.” Her friend snickered. “I’m a hell of a lot more screwed up than you, so…far be it for me to try to give you advice. I can’t even make up my own mind about a job.”

  She waited for her to continue, but the blonde just stared into her coffee as if it held all the answers. After a minute went by without movement, Jill’s concern increased.

  “Hey, Gwen. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” Blue eyes blinked at her, then narrowed. “What? I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  “Look, I’m not trying to pry, but if you need to talk to someone—someone who isn’t family—I have two really great ears.”

  This won her a smile.

  “And one really great heart. Thanks, Jill.” She sighed. “I’m just trying to decide about a job opportunity.”

  “You have a photo shoot somewhere?”

  God, for Gwen’s sake, she hoped it was somewhere warm so she could live vicariously through the model.

  “No.” The blonde shook her head. “It’s not that kind of a job. In fact, I’m done with modeling.”

  She frowned. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. Not many do.”

  “Then what kind of job is it?”

  “Cooking.” The woman gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yesterday, Lea had called me in on a Skype call with Brandi and her friend Kerri in Texas. You remember her, right? She owns a restaurant down in Harland County with her sister Jordan.” When Jill nodded, Gwen continued. “Kerri asked if I’d be interested in taking over the cooking for her for a few months when she has her baby this spring.”

  “Sounds like something you could handle,” she said cautiously.

  “Cooking? Hell, yeah. I’ve been doing it at my daddy’s diner since I was fourteen.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  Kerri McCall and the other Texans they’d met a few months ago at Brandi’s wedding, held at the resort, had been nice. They’d raved about her chocolate. A few of the cowboys even flirted with her. One of them was a doctor. A very cute doctor who resembled the handsome country singer Josh Turner.

  Yeah, she’d had a great time at Brandi’s wedding.

  So had Gwen.

  “Does your hesitation have to do with that hot cowboy I saw you dancing with several times at the wedding?” she asked, noting a slight blush coloring the woman’s face, no doubt attributed to having disappeared with the handsome guy toward the end of the reception.

  “Partly.” Gwen cleared her throat. “I admit, I gave into a moment of weakness where that bad boy was concerned, and although I should probably regret it, I don’t. Our night was rather fantastic. But, I’m not looking for more, and hate the thought of him thinking I am if I show up down there.”

  Jill blew out a breath and nodded. “I understand, but like you said, he’s a bad boy. I got the impression he wasn’t the type to look for a relationship. You should be okay.”

  “You think?” Light entered the woman’s gaze for the first time since finishing off her cake.

  “Yeah, I do. So, what are you going to do?”

  “I think I might head down to Harland County this spring.”

  Relief eased the tightness around Gwen’s mouth still covered in red gloss despite having devoured cake.

  “A change of scenery will do me good.”

  Something Jill knew well. Changes of scenery. For the most part, they were good.

  She finished her coffee and set the empty mug back on the counter before facing her friend. “Listen, I know there’s more going on with you, and that’s okay. I’m not prying. I just want to make sure you know that whatever it is, it’s going to follow you. You can’t run. You can’t hide. Texas. The Gulf. Timbuktu. Doesn’t matter. It’ll follow. Trust me. I know.” Sometimes the heaviness, the weight of her past snuffed out bits of newfound joy.

  “I know, too. Believe me.” Gwen nodded, pushing her empty plate aside. “But, being here isn’t helping as much as I’d hoped. I’m…”

  “Surrounded by well-meaning relatives that don’t quite get it.”

  The blonde’s head snapped up and she nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I love my dad and my sister and my brother Ryder, but this…thing…I need to deal with it on my own. You know?”

  She nodded and cupped the woman’s shoulder. “Yeah, I do. I also know Lea is very worried about you, so, when you are ready to talk, please seek her out.”

  A warm hand covered hers as a sheen of tears appeared in the pretty blue gaze locked with hers. “I promise.” Then her friend released her and stood. “I should get going so you can close up.”

  She glanced at the bonbon shaped clock on the wall above one of the candy displays. It was just about time to close. “Okay. Enjoy your night. Drive carefully.”

  “You, too. Thanks for the talk,” Gwen said, shrugging into her gorgeous fake fur. “And don’t forget what I said about Mason. He’s a great guy. Promise me you’ll consider him when you’re ready to consider a guy.”

  Once her mind caught up with the woman’s words, Jill smiled and nodded. “Okay. I promise.” She carried their empty dishes to the sink near the Keurig, then grabbed a cloth and started to wipe the counter. “As long as you promise to talk to Lea when you’re ready to talk.”

  “I promise.”

  With a smile on her lips, Gwen disappeared through the front door, leaving Jill to her cleaning. She was nearly done when a Pitbull song began to play.

  “Oh, yeah.” She cranked it up, grabbed the spray and paper towel and began to wipe down the front of the display cases.

  Completely caught up in the beat, she had some serious groovage going on and was singing as she re-wiped an already cleaned case.

  “I’m taking it…I’m taking it,” she sang, wiggling as she slowly squatted as low as she could go, mood lighter than it had been all day. “I’m bringing it…I’m bringing it,” she continued, reversing the dance move as she slowly rose, all the while wiping the glass.

  “You’re a fireball…”

  She let out a squeak at the sudden deep tone and twisted around to find Mason leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest, big grin on his face. Why hadn’t she heard the bell above the door?

  “Don’t let me stop you,” he said. “You’re on a roll.”

  Hand over her thudding heart, as if that would hold it in, she blinked at the guy. “Jesus, Mason. How long were you standing there?”

  Please, God, let him say not long.

  “Long enough to know you’ve got some serious game.”

  Heat spread through her face as her mind provided her with an image of what she must’ve looked like from behind. Damn. Her face heated further.

  “Thanks. I-I had a few lessons.” Shit, why’d she say that? Now he was going to ask what kind.

  “Yeah? What kind?”

  Swallowing a few choice words reserved for her stupidity, she turned her back on the guy and busied herself by wiping the rest of the spray from the glass case. “Hip-hop and a few others.”

  He left the doorway and walked up behind her. She knew, because she could feel him like fingers of heat reaching out from a blazing furnace.

  “What others?”

  Concentrating on cleaning, she did her best to ignore him as awareness skittering all the way down to her feet. “Belly dancing. It’s supposed to be good for your core,” she babbled. “And pole dancing
because…” She was an idiot and wasn’t supposed to tell him. Dammit. The guy was too potent. She could barely form a tangible thought with him so near.

  “Pole dancing?” He twisted her around, grin tugging his lips. “Any chance I can persuade you to come with me to the firehouse?”

  She laughed and hit his shoulder. “No, you goof.”

  “Is pole dancing good for your core, too?”

  “I suppose, but that’s not the reason I took the lessons.”

  What was with her lips? Those suckers were way too loose around the handsome guy. But her reason really wasn’t a secret or anything to be ashamed of, just her own reasons. Her attempts to try to help her marriage. She’d hoped spicing things up would make a difference. It didn’t. Then she realized she wasn’t the only one Donny had lost interest in. His friends. His family. Everyone seemed to have faded from his view.

  That had been the beginning of the end of their relationship. There was no reason to try anymore, because there was nothing left to save. Her husband was gone. In his place was a cold, heartless, verbally abusive stranger who gambled and drank away their savings. Their equity. Their life.

  “He was a lucky man,” Mason said, as if understanding her silence. He lifted a hand to cup her face. “I’m sorry he didn’t realize it, Jill.”

  She fought the stinging behind her eyes to produce a smile. “Thanks.” She knew he was right, but somewhere, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but feel she should’ve tried harder. Done something sooner. She was still coming to terms with accepting her inadequacies.

  The lure of the warm acceptance in Mason’s eyes was damn tempting. God, it would be so easy to lose herself in that affirmation. Draw strength from his approval. But, she’d gone most of it alone and saw no reason to allow weakness to intervene now.

  “So, I was just getting ready to close,” she said, backing away from his touch, placing a smile on her face as she turned from him to walk behind the counter and put away her cleaning supplies. Already, she discovered the distance between them made it easier to breathe. “I just had some cake and coffee with Gwen, but if you wanted I cup, I’d be happy to make one for you.”