Page 4 of Bittersweet Valentine

"Someone had to." His voice held an edge now. "After you left, she needed people in her corner. So yeah, I kept tabs. We all did. Kings Valley takes care of its own."

The implied accusation stung.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," I said finally. "Just to judge a competition and write a story."

"Maybe." Liam stood, dropping some bills on the table. "But you might want to remember something: Kandi's not just another chef you're critiquing. She's built something special here. Don't mess with that just because you're feeling nostalgic."

He left me sitting there, staring into my cooling coffee and thinking about the way Kandi had looked through The Chocolate Hart's window—confident, focused, successful. She'd achieved everything we'd once dreamed about, but she'd done it without me. The question was: could I judge her work fairly, knowing what I knew? Seeing who she'd become?

The competition meeting was in six hours. I'd see her there, would have to maintain professional distance while evaluating technical skills and creativity. Could I do that? Could I separate the chocolatier from the girl who'd once written love notes in chocolate on wax paper, who'd kissed me behind Sugarplums and tasted of peppermint and promises?

I stood, leaving my coffee untouched. The Queens Inn would have my room ready by now, and I needed to review the competition criteria before the meeting. But as I walked back, snow began falling again, soft flakes that caught in my hair and on my coat. Through The Chocolate Hart's window, I saw Kandi demonstrating something to a young assistant, her movements assured and graceful. She smiled at something the girl said, and the sight hit me like a physical blow—she looked happy. Settled. At home in a way I'd never quite managed to be, despite all my success.

Maybe Liam was right. Maybe coming back had been a mistake.

But as I watched Kandi work, saw the passion and skill in every movement, I knew I couldn't walk away again. Not without seeing what she'd created, what she'd become. Not without understanding why she'd chosen to come home when I'd chosen to leave.

The competition would give me that chance. Two weeks to watch her work, to taste her creations, to judge her fairly as a professional while trying to ignore the way my heart still skipped when she smiled.

I just hoped I was up to the challenge.

Chapter Three

Kandi

The spiced ganache was just starting to set when Sophie gasped, nearly dropping the piping bag she was holding. "Oh my goodness—is that him?"

I kept my eyes fixed on my work, carefully stirring the cooling chocolate. "I assume you mean Roman Archer?"

"He's gorgeous," Sophie whispered, abandoning all pretense of working. "How did you not tell me your ex looked like that?"

"Because it's not relevant." I tapped the spatula against the bowl, noting with satisfaction

how the ganache held its shape. Perfect consistency. "He's here as a judge, nothing more."

But I couldn't help stealing a glance through the window. Roman stood across the street with Liam Parker, their breath fogging in the winter air as they talked. Ten years had been kind to him—his dark hair shorter now, styled in that carefully casual way that probably cost more than my first set of chocolate molds. The boyish charm I remembered had matured into something more polished, more sophisticated. His wool coat and leather briefcase screamed big-city success, a far cry from the teenager who'd written restaurant reviews for the school paper.

"He's looking this way," Sophie reported, her voice rising with excitement. "Should I wave? No, that would be weird. Should we pretend we don't see him? What's the protocol for ex-boyfriends who become famous food critics?"

"The protocol," I said firmly, reaching for the cayenne pepper, "is to focus on our work. The morning rush will start soon, and these displays won't fill themselves."

I measured the spice carefully, adding it to the cream I was heating for my next batch of ganache. The competition piece I had planned would tell a story through flavor—starting sweet and familiar, then building to something bolder. Something that would make the judges, especially one particular judge, sit up and take notice.

The bell above the door chimed, and Eleanor Pembrooke bustled in, her silver hair dusted with snow. "Good morning, ladies! I need your expert opinion on something."

She set a large arrangement of red and white roses on the counter, their perfume mixing with the chocolate-scented air. "For the Valentine's display. I'm thinking of adding some ofyour chocolate roses to complement the real ones. What do you think?"

I welcomed the distraction, moving to examine the arrangement. Eleanor had been one of my first allies when I'd opened The Chocolate Hart, regularly incorporating my chocolates into her flower arrangements. We'd built quite a business doing wedding favors together—her flowers and my chocolates creating perfect matrimonial memories.

"Beautiful work, Eleanor." I studied the composition, already imagining how chocolate roses in varying stages of bloom would enhance the display. "I can do dark and white chocolate roses, maybe some with gold leaf detail?"

"Perfect!" She clapped her hands together. "And speaking of perfect timing..." She glanced meaningfully toward the window where Roman had been standing. "Quite the coincidence, him coming back now."

"It's not a coincidence," I corrected, returning to my workbench. "He's here to judge the competition. That's all."

"Mmhmm." Eleanor's knowing smile said she didn't believe me for a second. "Well, whatever the reason, it should make for an interesting Valentine's season. Nothing like a second chance at first love to warm up these cold Vermont nights."

"There won't be any second chances," I said, perhaps too quickly. "Roman made his choice ten years ago. And I've made mine. This is my home now, my business. I'm not that lovesick teenager anymore."

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