I squint at him, studying his face again. There’s something familiar in the curve of his mouth when he smirks, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and those delicious dimples.
I’ve seen them somewhere before, damn it. I know it!
In a yearbook photo, maybe. Or across a classroom. Or from the bleachers at a basketball game.Come on, brain. Work for once.
Nothing.
“Fine.” I exhale, shaking my head. “Keep your secrets, Willy Wonka.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Did you just call me Willy Wonka?”
“If the shoe fits.” I gesture around at the chocolate. “Do you have Oompa-Loompas in the back?”
“Just me, today,” he says easily. “But I’ve got the whole operation under control.”
Of course he does.
I glance at the display case, mostly because I need to look at something that isn’t a mountain of tattooed muscle. Delicate truffles, glossy chocolate shells brushed with metallic shimmer. Bonbons marbled with pink and white, heart-shaped caramels sprinkled with sea salt.
“I should probably get back to work,” I say reluctantly. Standing here and bantering with him is dangerously distracting.
He nods. “I’ll see you Saturday, Jenna.”
The way he says my name sends a little shiver down my spine.
I take a step toward the door, then pause and glance back over my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Yeah?” He looks up from where he’s jotting something down.
“Thank you. For doing this for me. And for saying what you said. About me being better off.”
He watches me for a long beat, his gaze softening. The teasing drops away, leaving something deeper in its place.
“You are better off,” he says quietly. “You deserve more than some asshole who doesn’t know what he has.”
I swallow. “You talk like you know what I deserve.”
His eyes hold mine. “Maybe I do.”
My pulse skitters. I force a wobbly smile, my fingers tightening around my purse strap. “I’ll see you Saturday then.”
He gives me one last slow, devastating look. “Count on it, Princess.”
Princess.
The new nickname wraps around me like a cozy blanket. I’m still mentally clutching it to my chest as I step back out onto Main Street, the bell chiming softly behind me.
As the door closes, I catch one last glimpse of him leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest, one ankle hooked over the other, and those damn dimples on full display. My heart does a ridiculous little flip. I don’t know who he is, but I’mveryinterested in finding out.
2
OLIVER
There are a lot of things I expect to see in my shop on a Wednesday morning. Tourists, locals, couples grabbing a treat on their lunch break. Early Valentine’s shoppers. Maybe someone buying a last-minute apology box of truffles because they fucked up.
What I donotexpect is sweet, quiet Jenna Howard storming into Bliss like a pint-sized avenging angel and yelling, “Give me the biggest dick you have!”
It’s been two days and I’m still replaying it.
