Page 12 of You Had Me at Chocolate

Jude chuckled. Clementine had always been blunt. “It’s no excuse but I think I underestimated how badly jet-lagged I was.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You think?”

“I really am sorry. It just seemed kinda right after feeling adrift on top of traveling for four days through about a dozen different time zones. I acted impulsively.”

“Look, I’ve been jet-lagged myself so I understand how it can screw with you, but clearly you and international date lines are not a good mix. You should keep in mind that next time you propose to a woman under the influence of jet lag, she might just say yes.”

Jude snorted. “Next time I will chain myself to my bed for a week and employ around-the-clock security.”

She smiled, emphasising those chipmunk cheeks. “Good plan.”

Then they were both smiling at each other. On the steps of the library. Like they were the only two people in the world. It felt good—familiar—like it always had with Clementine despite how long it had been. But something about it also felt new. Felt different.

Her smiled dimmed a little as if she could feel it too. “Okay… well, if that’s all, I gotta—” She raised the tray of take-out coffees. “Deliver these.”

“Oh, sorry, yes, of course.” Jude backed down a step.

He went to thank her again for being so understanding and tell her how much he admired her for having drive and purpose in her life—no matter how much it’d messed with his hairbrained plans. But, before he could, a woman, powering up the stairs hunched into a jacket, her head down, almost barged right through the middle of them. She corrected herself at the last moment lifting her head to apologize.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes were red, her sooty lashes damp, her voice thick with emotion.

“Tamsin?” Clementine grabbed the young woman by the upper arm with her spare hand. “Goodness, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, Clem,” she wailed and then dissolved into tears.

Jude cocked an eyebrow as he took the tray off Clementine so she could offer proper comfort. She shook her head at him clearly puzzled by the outburst as her arms went around the woman’s shoulders and she said, “Hey there, you’re okay now.”

“It’s not, everything is r-ru-ruined,” Tamsin sobbed.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she soothed.

“It is. The bakery in Bozeman doing the cake has just burned down which is t-t-terrible but they obviously can’t do the cake and the wedding is in two daaaaays.”

“She’s getting married?” Jude mouthed over the sobbing woman’s head.

“Saturday,” Clementine confirmed, also mouthing.

“Every baker that does wedding cakes in the whole of Montana has been booked out for months.”

Jude felt ill for the baker—having your business destroyed like that must be devastating. But he felt terrible for Tamsin, too.

“Hush,” Clementine crooned. “We’ll figure something out. Hell, if all else fails, the whole town can band together and make you a mountain of cupcakes.”

Unfortunately, that only made Tamsin cry harder.

Before he knew it and definitely before he could stop himself, Jude said, “I can do you a cake.”

Clementine flashed him a startled look. “You can?”

The young woman stopped crying and lifted her head off Clementine’s shoulder—wiping at her eyes and nose. She regarded him doubtfully.

“Sure,” he confirmed. “I’ll need a kitchen.”

“You could use mine?”

“I’ll need a professional one for space and product and hygiene reasons. Do you know who the head chef is at the Graff?”

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