Searching For Love – the Bradens & Montgomerys (Pleasant Hill – Oak Falls)

by Melissa Foster

  Marie was quiet for so long, Carly wondered if her aunt thought she was making a mistake.

  “Pain is never a one-way street, Carly. You two were so young when you found each other, the odds of staying together were against you. I guess some love defies the odds.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?” she asked nervously.

  “Oh, you’re definitely crazy at the moment, honey,” her aunt said lightly. “Love is supposed to make you crazy.”

  A relieved laugh bubbled out, and Carly wiped her tears.

  “But this makes me wonder if Colorado was just a pit stop for you.”

  “What? No. Are you kidding?” Carly’s heart sank. “You and Wynnie saved my life, and I love my life. I love and appreciate you, and this chocolate shop.”

  “Maybe the guy is her pit stop.”

  Carly froze at the male voice coming through the phone. “Was that a man? Is he listening to our conversation? Where are you?”

  “Yes, that was a man, and if you must know, I’m still in bed.”

  “What? You’re in bed with a man and you’re talking to me like nothing is going on? Aunt Marie!”

  Marie laughed. “Well, we were done when you called.”

  “Ew! Stop! I don’t want to hear that. Tell whoever he is that Zev is not a pit stop, and—”

  “I call him Tiger,” Marie said.

  “I’m hanging up now,” Carly said, smiling. “I love you. Thank you for listening.”

  “Wait! You don’t want to say hello to my Latin lover? My Antonio Banderas lookalike?”

  “Goodbye, Auntie…” She ended the call, cutting off her aunt’s laughter, and looked at the pictures on her desk of her and Zev with their passports in their mouths and holding their treasure map. She was filled with longing.

  Her phone vibrated with a text, and Zev’s name appeared in the bubble, as if he’d sensed her thinking about him. She opened the message, and a selfie of him on the boat popped up. He was shirtless, his hair blowing in the wind. His right arm was outstretched, his elbow slightly bent, his hand cupped. In his left hand he held a piece of cardboard on which he’d written I wish you were here and drawn an arrow to the right. Elation bubbled up inside her. She grabbed a sticky note and wrote I am on it and stuck it to the picture of them holding the map. She held the picture beside her face, puckered up to blow a kiss, and took a selfie, sending it off to Zev with a heart emoji.

  There was a knock at the door, and Birdie poked her head in. “Are you still raving about your endless love or can you help me with something?”

  Carly leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up onto the desk. “He’s just so hot and so sexy,” she said dramatically. “I think I need a few more minutes to rave, or maybe an hour or two.”

  Birdie stomped over in her white cowgirl boots and booty shorts. Her red Divine Intervention tank top was knotted above her waist, showing about an inch of tanned, toned stomach. “Let’s go, Madam Sexpot.” She took Carly’s hand and yanked her to her feet, dragging her toward the door. “This business won’t run itself.”

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, the sidewalks were packed with festivalgoers. Balloons danced from long strings tied to children’s wrists, and music from the park at the end of the block lingered in the air. Carly stood behind the table on the sidewalk in front of the shop, helping customers, while Quinn and Birdie helped customers inside. This was usually her favorite part of the festival, but as she made small talk and enticed customers into checking out their new offerings inside the shop, she was too distracted to enjoy it. She was usually an avid listener, sincerely interested in everyone’s stories and questions, but today the only thing she was eager to do was to be part of the expedition going on off Silver Island.

  “You can pay for the cake pop inside. You’ll find the peppermint bars and Treasure Hunter Fudge in the glass display to the right of the register,” Carly said to the older couple she was helping.

  The silver-haired man said, “Very wise marketing, getting your customers to pay inside, where they can’t resist buying more chocolate.”

  “That’s the hope,” Carly said, the eager lilt in her voice forced. Guilt and frustration bubbled up inside her. She loved this business and working with Birdie and Quinn. She loved the noise and the goings-on of the festival, so why did she suddenly feel like she was standing in a gully, buffered from the rest of the world by the surrounding mountains that had once brought her peace?

  “Is this white chocolate?” a young mother asked, pulling Carly from her thoughts. Two little redheaded girls stared up her, anxiously awaiting an answer.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, my flavor chart seems to have gone missing.” Carly peered over the tray looking for the chart she’d made and felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Zev had texted hours ago after his meeting with the attorney to say it had gone well and he was heading back to the island to meet up with his team. Randi had sent texts on and off throughout the day with messages about what they were doing and funny comments about the boys. Her last text had included a picture of Zev leaning over a table with Ford, Cliff, and Tanner, with the caption Predive strategy meeting. Anxious to see the latest text, Carly quickly pointed to each of the samples as she named them. “These are white chocolate, vanilla, mint-chocolate swirl, milk chocolate, chocolate cherry, maple walnut, and our newest special, Treasure Hunter Fudge.” She went on to describe what could be found inside the special fudge.

  The girls’ eyes flicked excitedly up at their mother.

  “Thank you.” Their mother put a hand on each of their pretty little heads and said, “You can each choose one sample.”

  As the girls begged for more, Carly bit her tongue and helped two other customers. She’d learned her lesson early on. When she’d first started working for her aunt, she’d made the mistake of telling children they could take two, only to get the stink eye from their parents.

  She spotted the flavor chart on the ground beside the table as she was giving the girls their samples, but before she could pick it up, another wave of customers arrived.

  Forty minutes later, she was finishing up with the last customer—at least for the moment—and said, “We’re open seven days a week. I hope to see you again soon.” She quickly put the flavor chart where it belonged, then pulled out her phone and navigated to the text from Randi. It was a picture of Zev and the guys in their wet suits with the caption Dive #2! Carly’s attention was riveted to Zev’s athletic body trapped beneath the wet suit, leaving no room for imagination, and his mesmerizing eyes glittering at the camera. She could practically feel his heart thundering with anticipation. She remembered the thrill that had shot through her when she’d gotten her first look at him underwater.

  A hand shot between her phone and her face, and she startled. “Sorry, I—”

  Cutter stood beside her with a cocky smile and said, “What happened? Did you fall down the rabbit hole on a dirty-diver site?”

  She hadn’t seen him since she’d dropped off the truffles as a thank-you gift for watching the animals. She looked around, relieved to see there were no customers in earshot. “Of course not. I don’t look at those sites. Is that even a thing? Dirty divers?”

  “I don’t know. There are dirty cowboy sites, so I assume so.”

  “How do you know that? Are you on them?” She thought better of it and said, “Don’t answer that.”

  He laughed. “Well, something had your attention. I said your name three times.”

  “Sorry. It’s Zev. He’s diving today and I’m anxious to hear from him.”

  “I bet. How are you holding up now that he’s gone?”

  She sighed. “How do you think?”

  “I can’t imagine,” he said empathetically.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to try. It’s like having the door to a new world open and you see all of its bright, shiny pieces, and then someone pushes the door so it’s almost closed, leaving just enough space for you to get a peek of the other side. Then they hang a sign that says
‘Coming Soon,’ and they push a giant block of lead against the door so you can’t open it, making all that special goodness that lit you up inside just out of reach. And you know you’ll get to see it again, but you don’t know when.”

  Cutter’s brows slanted. “You mean Miss Organization doesn’t have dates and times for her next tryst?”

  “Nope, and it’s not a tryst. But I’m okay with it. I’m here and I’m focusing on the festival.” She saw another group of people coming down the street. Is it just me, or is this day taking forever? She straightened the table to distract herself and said, “I’m cool. I don’t need solid plans.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said with a heavy dose of disbelief.

  “You’re not helping,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Maybe this will help. I wanted to mention it the other day, but you were in a hurry. Zev went to a lot of trouble to get that trip set up for you. I don’t know how he pulled it off so fast, but it was obviously important to him that you didn’t miss out on going diving. If Beau hadn’t already told me about all the deep-sea diving, cliff diving, hang gliding, freediving, and other crazy shit you and Zev did growing up, I would’ve told Zev he was crazy to plan a diving trip for you.”

  “Wait. What was that about Beau?” She pocketed her phone and crossed her arms, staring him down.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Cutter? Ohmygod. You stinker!” She swatted him. “You were in on Char’s matchmaking scheme, weren’t you? What if Zev had been a jerk?”

  “Do you really think I’d let the guy near you if I had concerns? Beau assured me that Zev wasn’t going to be a dick.”

  Beau. He’d been as lost as Zev had been after Tory was killed, and look where he was now. Where they both were.

  Thank you, Beau.

  “So you had concerns before you went to Beau?” she asked.

  “Yes and no.” Cutter glanced at the shop and said, “How many times did I walk in on you and Birdie role-playing so you could be calm, cool, and collected when you saw your old flame?”

  “Dozens. It didn’t work,” she said with a smile. “I got so flustered that I told him you and I were dating, until you started dirty dancing with Sable, and that lie went to crap.”

  “No shit? I wish I could have heard you trying to get out of that.” He shook his head and said, “I knew all that planning and role-playing wouldn’t work. I don’t know much about love, but I do know this. You told me Zev had broken your heart, but every time you talked about him, you got this look in your eyes, like…” He shrugged. “I don’t know what that look was exactly, but it told me you weren’t over him. So when Char said she and Beau were getting married, I went to see Beau. I told him that if he had any inclination that Zev would cause an ounce of trouble for you, I needed to know. I would have found a way to make sure you didn’t go to that wedding. But I trust Beau, and he told me where he thought Zev’s head had been all these years, which put my mind at ease.”

  “You did that for me?”

  “I’d do anything for you, darlin’. You’re family.”

  “Aw, I love knowing that. Thank you. What did Beau say to you?” she asked as a group of pretty women approached the table.

  “Guy code. Can’t talk about it. All that matters is that he was right.” Cutter winked and picked up the sample tray, turning his attention to the women who were ogling him in his tight jeans and cowboy hat. “Howdy, ladies. What’s your pleasure?”

  If only Beau had the answers she needed right now.

  THE TABLE WAS three customers deep for the rest of Carly’s shift, giving her little time to think about anything but the people peppering her with questions. She was thankful for Cutter’s help with the customers, even if he did seem to be using her confections like a dating app. Women had offered him their phone numbers, Tinder account names, and one even offered to be his dessert. She had no idea there were so many forthright, horny women in their small town, and she was thankful when the crowds finally died down.

  “That’s fascinating,” Carly said to a middle-aged man who was going on about his great-aunt who owned a chocolate shop in Paris. She was trying not to think about her phone vibrating in her pocket. It had been vibrating on and off like she was a drug dealer for the last couple of hours.

  Quinn came out of the shop carrying a tray of fudge samples, and her expression brightened when she saw Cutter. She stood up a little taller, walked a little slinkier in her tight black Divine Intervention tank top, which was knotted a good two inches above the waist of her soft gray miniskirt. “Cutter? I didn’t know you were helping,” she said as she set the tray on the table.

  Cutter dragged his eyes appreciatively down her body, all the way to the leather straps wound around her calves from her high-heeled sandals.

  “This is when you speak,” Carly said, nudging Cutter as the long-winded customer headed inside to check out the rest of their treats.

  Cutter half coughed, half cleared his throat and said, “I was just helping Carly.”

  Quinn was too smart for that. She looked at the women standing on Cutter’s side of the table and said, “Everyone comes out for the hot cowboy. Just don’t try to take my job. I’m next in line for more hours.”

  “I’ll hire you,” a buxom blonde said as she eyed Cutter.

  Quinn put her hand on her hip, flashing the sweetest of smiles, the one that brought men to their knees, and said, “What kind of work do you have in mind for him?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” the blonde said. “I have a few items that need fixing around my house.”

  “That’s good, because he’s great with his hands. But if you need a man who can work long hours, his staying power leaves a little to be desired.” Quinn picked up the sample tray and held it out to her. “Taste?”

  The blonde turned on her heel and strutted away, mumbling something about it always being the hot ones.

  “Quinn, that skirted a very thin line,” Carly said as she reached for her phone, then thought better of it and began reorganizing the table. Reading the texts would be her reward after the table was organized.

  “I’m sorry, but she looked like she was ready to give him a handy right here at the table,” Quinn said.

  Cutter scoffed. “And you screwed that up for me, didn’t you?”

  “I probably saved you from an STD.” Quinn set the sample tray down and said, “Have some scruples.”

  Carly retrieved a package of napkins from beneath the table, chuckling to herself. She should probably stop this line of banter, but there were no customers in earshot, and she was having too much fun watching the show.

  Cutter looked like he was chewing on nails as he said, “I have more scruples than you can imagine.”

  “I said scruples, not Oodles of Noodles.” Quinn giggled and popped a piece of fudge into her mouth.

  He scowled. “Paybacks are hell, tater tot.”

  “Tater tot?” Carly arched a brow.

  He eyed Quinn and said, “You know, a little crunchy on the outside, succulent on the inside.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed despite the crimson staining her cheeks.

  Whoa. They put Randi and Ford to shame. “Thanks for the help, Cutter,” Carly said. “Are you taking off?”

  His gaze never left Quinn’s as he said, “I think I’ll stick around for a while.”

  “Great. How about you two harness all that pent-up energy and see who can sell more chocolate? I’m heading inside to help Birdie.” Reward time! She pulled her phone from her pocket on the way inside.

  “Carly?” Birdie called out from behind the counter. “Would you mind grabbing another tray of Treasure Hunter Fudge?”

  “Sure.” She was thrilled that their new creation was selling so well. The cereal bars were doing well, too. She’d dipped them in different flavors of chocolate, and she’d eaten one dipped in white chocolate for breakfast.

  She headed into the kitchen as she opened Zev’s texts and stopped cold, rivete
d to the image of Zev underwater, eyes dancing with joy. He was holding a number of horseshoe-shaped metal bracelets with enlarged finial ends. Her pulse skyrocketed as she looked through the pictures he’d texted. There was one of him pointing to the ocean floor, which was littered with more bracelets, and several others of only the bracelets. She wondered if they were manillas, horseshoe-shaped bracelets and armlets used as a form of currency for bartering in West Africa. They were usually made from bronze or copper and sometimes used in the slave trade, as they would have been with Clegg’s ship.

  She scoured the pictures, zooming in to see the treasures more clearly, taking in their pitted surfaces and the underwater identification tags placed in the artifacts. She mentally ran through the process of identifying and recording artifacts and locations, which were captured on film and on a grid of the site to help with the recovery efforts and so future generations could see exactly where each of the artifacts were found. Oh, how she wished she were there! Happy tears welled in her eyes, and she reached for the counter to combat her shaky legs.

  Her phone rang, startling her. Zev’s picture appeared with the FaceTime call. She answered quickly. “Are they manillas?” she asked at the same time Zev said, “Baby!”

  Zev laughed and flicked his chin, sending his wet hair out of his eyes. “They’ve got to be, and there are hundreds of them down here. Aw, Carls! I wish you were here. We were using the dredge pump, about eight inches down when we hit them…”

  He described every detail, and once again she felt like she’d been right there with him when he’d found them.

  Only she hadn’t been.

  Sadness pooled inside her, but she forced her happiness for Zev to rise above it.