The Chocolate Touch (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 8)

by Melissa McClone

  York nodded. “First day for us both.”

  First and last day for Chantelle, but she kept quiet. She was helping, not working like York. He might be a newbie and not one-hundred-percent confident in his new position, but he could handle this.

  “Would you like a sample?” York raised the plate.

  “No, thank you. I’m not a fan of nuts.” The woman motioned to the glass display. “But I would like two dark chocolate salted caramels.”

  “Those are one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too,” the woman said. “We have excellent taste.”

  “Yes, we do.” He glanced at Chantelle.

  I’ve got this. She could tell he was thinking that, and his confidence made him more attractive.

  Still, she had one word for him.

  Show-off.

  He put on plastic gloves. “I like how the taste of salt mixes with the caramel and chocolate. Nothing quite like that flavor combination.”

  “So do I,” the woman agreed.

  York used tongs to pick up two caramels and place them into a bag. “Would you care for anything else?”

  The woman’s green eyes danced. She tucked a white curl behind her ear. If she were any younger, Chantelle would think the move was flirtatious.

  “Not unless you’d like to go out with my granddaughter,” the woman said with a grin. “She’s been wanting to find a nice young man.”

  York’s face turned tomato red. Chantelle had no doubt if his hair wasn’t covering the tips of his ears, she could see that those were red, too.

  “I’m, uh…” Whatever he wanted to say wasn’t happening.

  Poor guy. The least Chantelle could do was help him out the way he’d assisted her at the bookstore.

  “York is a very nice man,” she said. “But unfortunately, he’s only here for a few weeks. He has a jam-packed schedule between family obligations and his work schedule.”

  He nodded like those bobble-head dolls they gave away at baseball games at Fenway Park.

  She may have earned herself a second free cup of hot chocolate with this save.

  The woman tsked. “That’s too bad. But you’re more my type than hers, anyway. Well, my type fifty years ago.”

  Her pleasant laugh didn’t stop York’s blush from returning deeper than before.

  Chantelle bit back a giggle. She wondered what the woman’s granddaughter would think about that tidbit of information.

  The customer paid for her caramels and then headed to the door. Before stepping outside, she glanced back and gave York a blatant once-over with zero hesitation or embarrassment.

  As soon as the door slammed, Chantelle burst out laughing. “Oh, boy. You are going to be as popular as the chocolates and have your own fan club soon.”

  He shook his head. “The lady was just being nice.”

  “That wasn’t quite naughty, but I wouldn’t call what she did nice.”

  York waved his hand as if he could make what happened go away.

  Chantelle liked seeing him flustered. “I bet this is only the beginning. You should find out if there are rules about dating customers.”

  His gaze met hers. “I’d rather find out if there are rules about going out with coworkers.”

  “Coworkers?” Her voice cracked. Had he meant her?

  An intense look in his eyes, he took a step closer.

  The bell jingled, and the two jumped away from each other. Chantelle wasn’t sure if he said the greeting or she did, but that started a steady stream of customers into the shop for the next two hours.

  The entire time, Chantelle couldn’t stop thinking about what York had said.

  I’d rather find out if there are rules about going out with coworkers.

  Was he planning to ask her out?

  And if he did, what should she say?

  Yes?

  No?

  Maybe?

  Part of her hoped York was joking. She didn’t want to listen to what the other part of her wanted. A good thing she was only working with him this afternoon…or who knew what might happen?

  Chapter Six

  York didn’t mind having a shop full of customers. Keeping busy with orders was better than being alone with Chantelle, especially when he’d almost asked her out. That would have been a stupid move.

  “How can I help you?” he asked a young girl and her mother.

  The girl, who was around ten or so, placed a copper box filled with chocolates on the counter. “This, please.”

  He rang up the order. “Is it a gift?”

  “Yes, for my teacher.”

  “In that case, I’ll have our bow master make this look even prettier for you.” He handed the box to Chantelle, who went right to work as he took payment from the girl’s mother.

  Chantelle handed over a bag that was filled with tissue paper and tied with a pretty bow.

  The girl’s grin reached her eyes as she bounced on her toes. “Thank you.”

  Chantelle curtsied. “My pleasure.”

  No doubt spending time outside the chocolate shop with Chantelle would be a pleasure.

  He swallowed a sigh.

  In his defense, wanting to go out with Chantelle wasn’t a completely random idea. They were both in town for a brief time, and they had fun working together. At least he was.

  He enjoyed spending time with her.

  Who wouldn’t?

  Chantelle’s smile brightened her face like the sun appearing over the horizon at dawn. Sappy, yes, but true. The playful glances she sent his way hinted at possibilities. The way she’d touched his arm and then left her hand on him had been hot. A caring gesture, but hot nonetheless.

  Was this how Adam had felt with Kayla in Fiji?

  York hoped not. He wanted to be unattached, free to travel, and available to go out if a woman caught his eye. That wouldn’t happen if he had someone waiting at home for him.

  Another customer stepped up—a woman wearing scrubs. She must be a nurse.

  The store was crowded, but a line hadn’t formed yet.

  “How may I help you?” York asked.

  “One hot chocolate to go,” the nurse said.

  “I’ll make that once I drop these off,” Chantelle said as she passed by with two cups of hot chocolate.

  He rang up the order. “It’ll be just a minute until it’s ready.”

  As he totaled up yet another order for a friendly older customer named Clint, Chantelle delivered the drinks to a couple named Wade and Leah. They were sitting at one of the tables and had introduced themselves when they came in.

  York handed over a bag of chocolates. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

  “Thanks.” Clint was one of the owners of a local wine shop. He smiled. “Hope to see you around here more, York. This place could use a little…testosterone.”

  “Thanks.” I think.

  York was meeting so many people that he’d never remember their names. That was Dakota’s gift. One introduction, and she wouldn’t forget anyone. She could make a person feel like a long-lost friend five minutes after she met them. That skill she got from their mom.

  He and Nevada didn’t have the same social abilities. They were too scholarly. At least that was what he liked to think. Their mom claimed they were too much like their dad, which York didn’t see at all.

  He filled a bag with the colorful chocolate creams that Sage had made for springtime and rang up another order. And another. And another.

  Conversations started with each customer who stepped forward. York nodded along, saying an occasional word, but keeping up was proving impossible even though he was aware of whatever Chantelle was doing. She stayed calm and kept a cool head despite the craziness.

  When a customer couldn’t decide on an anniversary gift for his wife, Chantelle came up with an idea—a bouquet of molded-chocolate flowers, one for each year they’d been married. When another person wanted to take a sick friend a present, she put together a sampler box of different chocolates. A good thing she was t
here to help. He wouldn’t have thought of either of those ideas.

  Her excitement when discussing chocolate was palpable, but she didn’t show off her knowledge. If she thought he knew the answer, then helping the customer was up to him.

  A good thing since that was his responsibility, but he appreciated her being around to answer questions when he couldn’t and to tie pretty bows.

  Still, he was much too aware of her. If he didn’t put some distance between them, he was going to touch her again…or kiss her.

  As the clock struck five, the shop’s normal closing time when they weren’t hosting events, the last customer walked out. He went to the door, clicked the lock in place, and flipped the open sign to closed.

  York released a sigh of relief. “Closing time. We did it.”

  “What are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

  He had a few ideas, but none he could say aloud. He looked around at the empty shop. “No clue. I thought Dakota would be back by now because no one taught me how to close, but the info might be in the binder.”

  “What binder?” Chantelle asked.

  He pulled it out from beneath the counter. “This is the employee guide. There must be information on closing. Otherwise, we’ll have to wing it and use common sense.”

  Like turning off the burner for the hot chocolate and washing out the copper pot.

  As he flipped the pages, Chantelle peered over his shoulder. She wasn’t touching him, but her vanilla scent surrounded him. He had no doubt she would feel good if she pressed her front against his backside.

  Focus.

  He cleared his throat. “This has what we need.”

  “What do we do first?” She touched his shoulder with one hand and set off a zing-fest that would have lit up a pinball.

  He tried to read the list of items, but the words blurred. Working through a logical process of steps would get him over whatever reaction she’d caused. He blinked and refocused so he could try again.

  “Let’s start at the top and each do something,” she suggested. “We’ll be done before we know it.”

  “Good idea.” York should have thought of that except he was still thinking about how nice her touch felt and how delicious she smelled. “I’ll take number one.”

  That dealt with the cash register receipts. He was good at math. Counting would be easy.

  “I’ll clean the retail area.” With the bleach rag and plastic bin for the dishes, she headed toward the tables.

  She might have the chocolate touch, but she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty or wet. After the tables were finished, she swept and mopped, too.

  “What’s next?” she asked.

  York ran through the list of what he’d done. He’d turned off the burner, cleaned the hot chocolate pot, put away the samples, and washed cups and small plates. “Looks like we’re done with the list, but I’m going to text Dakota and ask her.”

  He went into the back to get his cell phone and typed out a message. Hope Portia is okay. Shop closed. To-do list from binder done. Anything else we need to do?

  *

  He hit send.

  The delivered notice popped up, but no reply.

  York returned to the front. He wasn’t about to leave the shop until he heard from Dakota, but Chantelle wasn’t needed with no customers around. “I’m waiting to hear back from my sister. It’s okay for you to take off. There’s no need for both of us to stay.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He did. “I appreciate that, but didn’t you say you wanted to check out Marietta? There’s still daylight left.”

  “I’ve been on my feet all afternoon.” Chantelle removed her apron, went to the closest table, and sat. “The only thing I want to do is sit for a while.”

  He understood. He’d spent days standing at the base, but this was different. It wasn’t just his feet, though they did hurt. He was tired from smiling and talking and…

  His phone beeped. It was from his sister.

  Sis1: Portia is no longer in labor, but she’s going to have to stay in the hospital to try to hold off delivery for at least a week, maybe two.

  That was too bad, especially with Rosie Linn, their other coworker, in Los Angeles.

  Sis1: If you followed the list in the binder you can go. I’ll stop by on my way home just to double-check everything. Go out the back door to the alley since you don’t have keys.

  York: Sounds good.

  Sis1: How did things go with Chantelle?

  York: Fine. She’s still here.

  Sis1: Any chance she can help tomorrow afternoon? I can be there with you in the morning, but I’m supposed to be at the rescue from one to five. Sage is here, and she said she’ll pay Chantelle for her time today, as well as any other shifts she covers.

  York reread his sister’s last text. Dakota didn’t work Friday through Monday, but with Portia in the hospital, schedules would likely change. That didn’t mean Chantelle Cummings was the answer to the shop being short-staffed until Rosie Linn returned from Los Angeles.

  “Is something wrong?” The concern in Chantelle’s voice carried across the shop.

  He took a breath. “Portia needs to stay in the hospital. They’re trying to keep her from delivering.”

  “That’s good. Her not delivering early, I mean.”

  He found himself nodding. Good, but…

  His phone beeped.

  Sis1: Did you ask her?

  Her. Chantelle.

  Spending more time with the pretty chocolate expert was not the smartest idea. He always did the smart thing—skinny dipping in view of the Officer’s Club as a teenager aside—but this…

  York was fighting his attraction and losing that battle. Best not to push it by spending more time together, even at work.

  “What?” Chantelle asked.

  He glanced at his phone again. “Dakota wants to know if you can help out tomorrow from one to five. She can’t be here due to something she had planned at the animal rescue where she volunteers. Sage will pay you for any time you work, too.”

  “Will you be here?”

  “Probably,” he admitted. “I’m working tomorrow, but I don’t know what time.”

  A beat passed. Then another. “Well, I was going to stop by anyway. Why not?”

  He didn’t know if the feeling in his gut was anticipation or dread. “I’ll text my sister.”

  York: Chantelle can work from one to five.

  Sis1: Tell her thanks.

  York: Will do.

  Sis1: Go home and I’ll see you there.

  York: Okay. Call me if you can’t find a ride or it gets dark.

  Sis1: I’m not far away.

  York: I don’t care. You still need to be safe.

  Sis1: Will do.

  He tucked the phone in his pocket. “Dakota says thanks.”

  “Happy to help.”

  Chantelle was going to help him right into making a big mistake. “I…we appreciate that.”

  “I better get my purse and jacket.”

  “We have to go out the back,” he said. “I don’t have a key for the front door.”

  Two minutes later, the store was dark and they were walking down the alley.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She put on her jacket. “Before you go all he-man, it’s still light. The bad guys and zombies aren’t out yet. I can walk back to the Graff on my own.”

  “Okay, but only because the sunlight will keep the vampires away, too.”

  Smiling, she nodded. “Is a blue shirt and jeans some kind of uniform employees are supposed to wear?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry about it.”

  She perked up. “I have jeans I can wear.”

  “That’ll work.” He’d like to see her in jeans, well-worn ones that fit like a glove and showed off her curves. Or not.

  “I’ll have to check my suitcase for a shirt.”

  They reached the street and stopped.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said.

 
; “Looking forward to it.”

  He shouldn’t be, but he was.

  The way she smiled up at him with the sun casting a halo around her blond hair was a sight to see, but the feelings she brought out in him were more devilish than angelic.

  York watched her cross the street. His stomach twisted. He wished he didn’t have to say goodbye right now.

  Instead of heading to Dakota’s house, he double-backed toward Main Street. He would grab a beer at Grey’s Saloon first.

  Maybe that would stop him from thinking about his new coworker and how he kept wanting her to bump into him so he could touch her one more time.

  *

  Something was ringing. Chantelle ignored the sound. She wanted to focus on the handsome man with sun-streaked brown hair who was putting a piece of chocolate into her mouth. Except he was blurring.

  No. She reached out to stop him from disappearing. Stay.

  But he was…gone.

  Come back. Please.

  Eager to return to her dream, she kept her eyes closed and snuggled under the blanket. Maybe sleep would come and the hottie would return. Except maybe this time, he’d bypass giving her chocolate and place his lips on hers.

  Please.

  The ringing sounded again, an obnoxious, dream-crushing noise that should be outlawed.

  She covered her ears. “Go away.”

  As if whoever was calling could hear her.

  Unfortunately, the ringing didn’t stop.

  With a groan reserved for cancelled flights and lost luggage, she opened her eyes. Blinked. Sighed.

  The glow of the digital alarm clock in the dark grabbed her attention.

  One o’clock in the morning.

  The only person crazy enough to call at this hour would be her cousin Philippe whom she’d emailed earlier. It would be morning in Bayonne.

  She reached for her phone on the hotel nightstand. Her hand hit the top, the clock, the lamp base.

  No phone.

  Chantelle sat, confused, before she remembered. She’d been charging her phone while she ate pizza at the desk.

  Getting up didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, but she did anyway. The cool air made her shiver. She found her cell and held it to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Good morning, cousin.” Philippe sounded like he was smiling.

  She stretched. “It’s still nighttime here.”