“Great choice. Try it with hemp milk and monk fruit.”
She just looked at him, trying not to react. From his laugh, she must have failed. “I have cream and…” He winked at her. “You know what.A small packet in the back.”
She nearly melted like the very sugar he mocked. “Just black. Thank you.”
He nodded and, a minute later, came out from behind the counter with two cups, leading her to an empty table—giving her hope that there was at least one of those. Maybe he wasn’t stealingallthe business.
“So,” he said as they sat. “What brings you to the dark side?”
She laughed despite herself, letting the aroma of the coffee rise and give her inner strength.
“I’ve been over here before.”
“Not very often,” he said, breaking into a smile that…oh, goodness. Who needed sugar when his smile was so sweet?
“Well, it seems I might be here more frequently,” she said, hoping to slide into the topic on her agenda and not just make small talk and gaze longingly into his impossibly dark eyes that were fringed with way too many long lashes.
Honestly, he was a beautiful man. His skin was the color of espresso dusted with cocoa powder, dark and warm. His hair was short, neat curls that framed his head, and he had just enough stubble to be masculine and not unshaven.
“I like the sound of that,” he said.
The sound of…what did she say? She couldn’t remember, since she’d been on another planet cataloging his perfection.
“Of you being here more often,” he explained, the tiniest frown pulling. “Are you okay, Gracie?”
Good heavens, she had to get it together. “Yes, yes. I’m just the bearer of some surprising news.”
A shadow of concern crossed his face. “Is Olivia okay?” he asked, sitting up almost imperceptibly straighter.
She loved how much he cared for his daughter—it was evident anytime they were together. How she wished Sam felt that way about Benny. But her son’s father was far away, physically and emotionally.
“She’s fine, she’s great.” She felt her whole face light up. “She’s a wonderful influence on Benny.”
He beamed at the compliment. “That kid is special. And so’s yours.” He took a sip, holding her gaze over the rim. “So, what’s up?”
She looked down at her cup and turned the handle to a right angle. “So, it seems we have to make a gingerbread house. Together, for the block. For the Mistletoe on Main festival.”
Marshall straightened, brows raised. “Really? That’s…interesting. Why only one?”
Gracie lifted her shoulders. “No idea. But the lady who’s coordinating it stopped by and said that’s what she wants. I guess they don’t want two gingerbread houses on the same block. It’s not bad marketing for us…for our shops.”
He nodded, glancing around with a slight frown. “Guess we all could use a little marketing.”
Really? Was he worried about the success of Craving Clean?
They regarded each other for a moment before he cocked his head. “Well, that’s an interesting merger of…philosophies.”
She smiled at the euphemism. “I have no idea how we’re supposed to blend our tastes in baked goods. You’ll want to build walls out of flaxseed crackers, and I’ll want mine to be made of, you know,gingerbread.”
“And you’ll want frosting so sweet it could knock out a moose,” he teased, “while I’ll be looking for a zero-calorie cream substitute.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not even food.”
He grinned, and it made her insides flutter dangerously. “We’ll find common ground.”
Roberto came to the table then, carrying two plates.
“Just out of the oven, Marshall,” the young man said. “I thought you’d like to treat your guest to your newest invention.”
