Page 42 of The Candlemaker

Okay, so she didn’t know me…

“In town for some business.” I let her guide me farther into the store, my eyes flicking to the doorway to the back where I could hear the first strains of muffled voices.“Oh, just business? I hope you’ll take some time for yourself to relax and enjoy everything our little townhas to offer.”

Like ghosts and a gorgeous candlemaker…

“I’ll certainly try.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’ve stopped here. The Candle Cabin is my granddaughter Francesca’s shop. She’s just in the back now, but I’ll introduce you in just a minute when she comes out.”

Granddaughter. Of course.Instantly, I knew where Frankie’s wildness had come from.

“This is quite a shop—quite a selection.” Using my free hand, I picked up a candle from the display in front of me. Instantly, Frankie’s sweet spice hit my nostrils.Cinnamon.Instantly my body turned hard.Again.

Shit.I swallowed a groan. I wasn’t sure it was possible to get high on the smell of cinnamon, but damn, I felt willing to try if it eased the want humming through my veins.

“Oh yes. Francesca is very talented. She makes all these candles by hand, and all of the scents are ones she designs herself. For example”—she pulled me to a different shelf but I couldn’t put down the cinnamon candle—“this one is one of her bestsellers.” She plucked the bold, dark blue candle for me to smell.Blueberry Buzz.I took a whiff, and it was exactly that: sweet and tart. “Her mom and I run Stonebar Farms; our Maine blueberry jam is our most-sold product. When Frankie was sixteen, she decided she wanted to make a candle to match the jam.”

“Sixteen?” My brows rose.

“Oh, yes.” Her head bobbed, and her smile widened. “Said she wanted people to take one breath of her candle’s scent and instantly need to taste the jam.”

My jaw clamped tight, the jar in my hand taunting that it was that way for all her candles—one scent of the cinnamon, and all I wanted was another taste of Frankie’s lips.

“Her whole business started from that one candle.” Pridegushed from the soft tremor of her voice. “When Francesca knows what she wants, there’s no stopping her.”

“Sounds like an impressive woman,” I murmured.

“Oh, yes,” she said again in a way that was suddenly characteristic of her. “Impressive and independent. A very fierce combination.”

Fierce.That was certainly one word for her.

“Chandler.”

I turned and instantly found Frankie’s eyes, warm and molten and crackling with life—and irritation. “Frankie.”

I loved surprising Frankie Kinkade. There was just no other way to describe it. Maybe it was because of the way her breath hitched or the way her mouth parted into this perfect “o”—an image that reinforced the fantasies that made me wake up this hard—but mostly…mostly it was because I had a feeling Frankie was rarely ever surprised; I had a feeling that she was the one always responsible for the surprises. And for some reason, I enjoyed far too damn much the idea that I did something for her that no one else did.

Then I noticed the man behind her.

He was tall. Built. Blond hair. My eyes narrowed, realizing where I’d seen him before; he was the driver of the flower delivery van I’d been stuck behind yesterday. The one who’d smiled and waved at me like he knew something I didn’t. And the way he stood so close to Frankie…I had a feeling I knew who he was.Her boyfriend.

A feeling I’d never felt before whipped through me. Something dark and ominous and a gray-green like the sky before a storm.Did he know she’d spent last night at the inn with me?The first question cracked through me.Did he know we’d kissed that first night when she’d pretended to be her twin?The second question hit a second later with a loud boom.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh…oh…” I heard Gigi’s soft confusion quickly turn to understanding. “You know each other. I didn’t realize, Frankie?—”

“Your grandmother?—”

“Gigi.”

“Gigi was just telling me about the humble beginnings of your shop,” I said smoothly, unable to stop my eyes from flicking to the man who stood by her side. I walked toward them, and the boyfriend didn’t even flinch.Idiot.I’d be putting myself squarely between Frankie and any other man if she were mine—fuck.“Hi, I’m Chandler.” I extended my hand like I hadn’t envisioned its grip around his throat like I was some sort of brute rather than a businessman.

“I’m—”

“Nox Hamilton,” Frankie interjected and stepped forward, preventing him from shaking my hand. “My cousin.”

Cousin.The relief I felt was fucking ridiculous. Insane and ridiculous and unfuckingcalled for.

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