Nikki says that she needs your help with Clint,” Maddie told Britt the next day. “I’m sending her in with coffee.”
“Copy that.”
Maddie held open the swinging door that led to Sweet Art’s shop.
Nikki entered, then said dramatically, “Ah, the inner sanctum of chocolate.” The older woman paused, holding mugs in both hands, and surveyed the space with an appropriate air of reverence. “I’ve never been in here before.”
“Welcome.” Britt swept her arms apart grandly. “I’m always happy to lend romantic advice to earnest supplicants.”
Nikki snorted. “You little pip-squeak. I don’t need romantic advice from you. I’m twice your age—”
“Isn’t it closer to three times?”
“—and I have more knowledge about men in my—myeyelashthan you have in your whole body.”
“I hereby kick you out of my inner sanctum for irreverence!”
“I’m not going anywhere. Maybe ever. The smell of chocolate is so thick in here that I think I might be able to get a buzz from it.” Nikki set one of the mugs near Britt’s elbow on the central island. “Here you are. A cappuccino.”
“Thank you.” While Nikki continued to look around, Britt plunged a raspberry pâtes de fruits center into tempered chocolate with a dipping fork. She tapped the fork, then scraped it along the bowl’s edge so that the excess ran back down. Carefully, she placed the chocolate on parchment paper to set. “So if you have more knowledge of men in your eyelash than I do in my whole body, why do you need my help with Clint?”
“Because you know him better than I do.” Nikki propped a generous hip against Britt’s desk.
“Has he still not asked you out?”
“No, and I’ve now attendedfourPilates classes.”
“And I’ve called Clint once on your behalf to extol your virtues, don’t forget.”
“Right. And still. Nada. So now I’m in need of the most valuable commodity.”
“Cacao beans?”
“Insider information. What’s Clint’s story?”
Britt moved another chocolate to the parchment, then picked up her mug and cradled it between her palms, smelling its fragrant steam. “I know he was raised in a farming community in central California and that he comes from a big family.”
“Yes, he was the fourth of five kids. His parents remained married even though his father broke his mother’s heart with repeated affairs.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“I’ve already asked him all about his family and his career.” Nikki waved a hand dismissively. “But I still know nothing about his romantic history, despite my attempts at prying.”
“Clint is a fairly private person and he can be somewhat ... self-conscious. He likes talking about things like karma and Native American spirituality. But he doesn’t love to talk about himself.”
“Listen, I adore that he’s self-conscious.”
“You do?” Britt certainly wasn’t on the hunt for a self-conscious boyfriend.
“I do,” Nikki said. “Clint’s also a little naïve, which I find irresistible.”
“He’s sweet. Laid back.”
“Both excellent qualities in a man. Especially one who’s going to have to put up with me as his girlfriend.”
Britt lifted one of the transfer sheets she custom ordered. Rows of stylized raspberries surrounded by tiny white polka dots created from colored cocoa butter marched across the sheet. She used her knife to cut out a raspberry design, then placed the piece of transfer paper atop a flat, hand-dipped chocolate. She depressed the top before pulling the sheet free. The raspberry and polka dot motif transferred.
“Those are gorgeous,” Nikki exclaimed. “Can I have one?”
