Page 49 of Building What's Meant to Be

“Thank you,” I say when we part. I want to thank her for trusting me.

With a smile, she glances at the chrome clock on the wall and says, “I’d better get back to the Starlight. You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, all alone, I’m afraid Rhondy took the confidence she had on loan with her instead of leaving it with me.

And boy do I need it along with an instruction manual. Yes, there are the expertly organized binders, but I’ve never had to operate a point-of-sale system never mind refill receipt paper, sugar shakers, or napkin holders.

Usually, I’m on the other side of the counter, placing orders and not taking them.

It doesn’t help that my life has suddenly gone wrong or that I hardly slept last night because I was thinking about Aiden. Then the critter that woke me up, scratching on...something. For a minute—okay, twenty—I thought it was Murder Doll trying to escape from the trunk of the Maybach. After that, I jumped to a Sasquatch trying to break in—I was an extra in Hunt & Seek Sasquatch II and everyone on set claimed it was real.

Never mind that, now is not the time to have a crush on anyone, least of all Aiden Fuller. His sisters hate me. Taylor is married to one of them. They’re best friends. It’s bad timing. Bad everything. I can’t afford the chocolates in here nor can I afford to fall in love.

And how could I fall in love if I’m not interested?

Wait. Am I interested?

Pfft. No way.

It’s as if Aiden smells better than chocolate, and that says a lot since I’m practically bathing in it right now. His eyes are the kind that see beyond the exterior and superficial—it was like he could see me, the version of me beyond the sequins.

I need a distraction.

Chocolate. I could go for some. I don’t want to take a piece from the display case, so while I’m in the back getting more cream for the coffee station, I spot some in a container on the shelf. I open it and inhale. It’s not quite as sweet as I expect. Perhaps it’s one of those fancy dark chocolate kinds that boasts high percentages of cocoa.

This is just what I need to satisfy the hunger inside—not the breakfast kind. More like the man-cation breakfast buffet kind.

I take a little bite of the chocolate and then spit it out like a cat with a hairball before scraping my tongue with a napkin. It’s the most bitter thing I’ve ever tasted. “Ew, ew, ew.”

I read the label on the top of the container.Baking Chocolate.

How can baking chocolate taste so disgusting when it comes out so delicious? Must have something to do with the oven, of which there are several in here.

Thank goodness no one saw that and thank goodness I don’t have to bake. I do not know my way around the kitchen. For instance, once I was helping my friend put together a recipe because the caterers were late. She said to add cheese so I just tossed the brick of cheddar in with the rest of the ingredients. Turns out I was supposed to shred it. I thought shredded cheese was its own thing. Don’t blame me, I grew up with a chef.

Also, just yesterday I learned that pickles come from cucumbers. The more you know, am I right? The Fuller Sisters seemed to think that was funny, but not their brother.

The door to the front jingles and I bring up fresh cream since the container was getting low. While I get the customer their coffee, I think about how Aiden seems like an open book. But that’s a result of judging him by his cover. He has a big personality, is generous, and gorgeous. But those eyes tell another story. Not only does he see me, but I also sense he’s seena lot. More than he lets on. Maybe he’s not so much a book but a diary with a padlock. Does he contain secrets inside?

Whatever. I can’t let myself read a chapter never mind the first page. It’s been a while since I’ve read a book at all. Seems like something people do in Butterbury or while on a man-cation.

“Miss, I think that’s plenty of cream,” the woman with thick glasses says from the other side of the counter.

I look down to see the cup overflowing. Apologizing, I get her another coffee. “Must’ve been distracted.”

“Mmm. I know that look.” She winks. “You were thinking about a special someone.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just chocolate. I have chocolate on my mind. And books. And my man-cation.”

She laughs like she knows I’m full of beans.

“Do you know where I can get a book?”

“That’s broad. Do you mean a Bible or fiction? A cookbook? A how-to guide? Fantasy? Romance?”

I bounce on my toes and point. “Yes, that. Definitely romance.” Perhaps that’ll help clear up whatever it is that suddenly seems to be afflicting me. Or perhaps it’s a byproduct of working at a place called Sweethearts because I cannot stop thinking about Aiden.

I’m afraid he’s got me good.

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