When she woke, she could tell by the quality of the light that late afternoon had arrived. Slowly, she squinted and turned toward Zander. He was already awake. He was still reclining, but he’d twisted his torso to face her. One of his arms rested along the sofa’s top and his chin rested on his bicep. He was watching her.
This was the best way to wake up. Ever.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“How about I take you out to dinner?”
Butterscotch schnapps!
The revelation came to Britt near noon the next day while she was washing her hands at Sweet Art’s kitchen sink. That’s what her peppermint truffle needed in order to achieve greatness. She’d add butterscotch schnapps to the cream, then infuse the cream with a cinnamon stick.
Of course! She could already taste the balance of it.
She’d been about to take a break for lunch. Instead, she launched into a fresh flurry of activity in order to test her inspiration.
When Zander arrived at two to take her mountain biking, shegreeted him at Sweet Art’s back door carrying a tiny plate bearing a peppermint truffle.
His attention raised from the truffle to her. “You did it, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Finally!”
He gently lifted the chocolate.
She watched him eat it.
“It’s excellent,” he pronounced.
“Thank you.” His praise regarding chocolate meant more to her than the praise of anyone else, because his praise was educated.
“What did you do to it since the last time I tasted it?” he asked. “I can’t put my finger on what you changed.”
“Good. I don’t like to be obvious.”
“Well?”
“I added butterscotch schnapps to the cream, then infused it with cinnamon.”
“Do you feel like Edison when he invented the lightbulb?”
“Very much so. It seems that having you as a boyfriend has taken me to a higher plane of chocolate creativity.”
“Is that so?” He set the plate aside and drew so close he had to incline his chin to keep eye contact with her.
Her breath shallowed. She placed her palms on his chest.
“Imagine what you’ll be capable of,” he said, “after having me as a boyfriend for another week. The Nobel Prize for chocolate?”
“Undoubtedly,” she whispered. “Don’t forget the Medal of Freedom.”
His fingers interlaced behind her waist. “I’m happy to do whatever I need to do on behalf of chocolate.”
“Anything for a good cause?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Maybe having me for a girlfriend will take you to a higher plane of writing creativity.”
