“God, I hope so.” I chuckle, imagining the movie. “Picture it: Chars gearing up for its annual chocolate onslaught. She’s a chocolatier. He’s…” I frown, drawing a blank.
“He’s a baker,” Molly offers, leaning forward, her eyes dancing. “They’re business rivals—pitted against each other. He’s got the hot cross buns, she’s got the chocolate eggs.”
“But what’s the conflict?” I ask.
Molly’s brow furrows as she considers how to torture our characters. “They’re competing for something.”
I snap my fingers. “Best Easter window display. The prize from the city is ten thousand—which is just what’s needed to pay off his?—”
“Her,” Molly interrupts.
“Her,” I correct, “debts.”
“Why doeshewant to win?”
I glance around, pretending to think. “Renovations. He wants to expand the distribution of his baked goods. He wants to go international.”
“Yes! A down-on-her-luck businesswoman versus a ruthless baker. Who will come out on top?”
“We end with the bakery and chocolatier combining and?—”
“Chocolate hot cross buns!” Molly claps her hands together excitedly.
“You,Pahe,read my mind.”
We beam at each other across the table.
“So, about that dat?—”
The airhorn blares, cutting me off. Lolly waves from her perch on the table, getting the crowd’s attention.
“We now have round two. Those seated on this side”—she waves at our section—“go and take a seat at the table of those seated on this side.” She waves at the far end of the room.
“As for the rest of you, stay where you are. We’re starting round two, and then you’ll decide who will be your final date! Don’t forget to grab your new clipboards from the registration table. We’ll begin in five minutes.” She does a little fist pump, yelling, “Let’s get Speedy!”
“Oh Lordy.” Molly stands, looking pained. “This is what I imagine hell to be.”
“No,Pahe. Hell is less painful.”
She chuckles, heading for the registration table.
The next round goes much like the first—plenty of crazies, a few desperados, and a couple of women I’d probably date in another life if Molly wasn’t here.
The final horn sounds, and I hand in my paper. Only one name graces my preference sheet—the one that matters.
Molly.
Make this count.
NINE
MOLLY
Idon’t know what horrible acts I committed in a past life, but tonight feels like punishment. If these are the best single men Chars has to offer, sign me up for a convent. I’m done. The only man here worthy of my time happens to be my brother’s best friend.
Joshua Greenfeld.
My pen hovers over the paper as I contemplate what it might mean to write his name instead of any of the eligible men I’ve met tonight. Josh makes me feel things I have no business feeling—but then, I’ve always been a sucker for punishment.
