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

by Melissa McClone

  “That’s smart.”

  “I try to be.” She’d also mentioned to Sage about consulting and doing a business analysis, but no questions had been asked, so Chantelle hadn’t offered any details.

  “In exchange for my volunteering,” Chantelle added. “Sage said I can write about the experience at the shop and take photographs, too.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’m for sure doing a review, but I might be able to write an article for a magazine or my blog.”

  “You’ll know all the products by the time you leave.”

  Chantelle already did. She thought about telling him about her family—well, soon-to-be family—but he wasn’t that into chocolate and she’d just met him. Kissing last night, aside. He wasn’t a chocolate connoisseur, so what would he care?

  “I’m sure I’ll have tasted everything before I have to leave.”

  He turned off the main road and drove under a wooden sign that read Bar V5 Dude Ranch.

  “Dude ranch?” she asked.

  “We’ll be there shortly. This is a long driveway.”

  The minutes passed. “What are we doing at a dude ranch?”

  “Being dudes?”

  “I look like a dude?”

  “No.” The word came out sharp and swift. “Nevada’s boyfriend Dustin Decker is a wrangler here. Eli, the man from the shop the day Portia went to the hospital, is too.”

  Chantelle remembered Eli. “So many cowboys in Marietta, real ones—not wannabes.”

  “Not only in Marietta. Montana is full of them. Dustin is a former rodeo champion.”

  “I’ve never been to a rodeo.” She’d been born and raised in Pennsylvania. Growing up, vacations had never been extravagant trips and never west of the Mississippi River. Writing about chocolate had given her the opportunity to explore more states and other countries, but every trip revolved around work and a lot of time was spent in her hotel room.

  York followed a curved section of the driveway that split off to the left and wrapped in front of the three-story luxurious lodge-like structure. A front porch ran the width of the building. Flower baskets hung along the porch railing, and comfortable rockers and a swing waited for occupants.

  “Ranch?” She stared out the windshield. “This looks more like a lavish mountain hotel.”

  York parked between a sedan and a minivan. There were also pickup trucks. Families and couples walked around.

  “I’ve never stayed here. Too expensive for me, but I toured the horse barn a couple of Christmases ago with my sisters. Each year, they hang custom wreaths on each horse stall. Lots of photo opportunities, gingerbread cookies, and hot cocoa or cider. The ranch does activities up right.”

  He sounded like a tourist brochure. It was cute. Was he a little nervous? Chantelle liked the idea that she wasn’t the only one on edge.

  “I’m looking forward to whatever this is.” Chantelle was. She reminded herself this wasn’t a date, just two friends hanging out and sightseeing, but she was touched York had thought of doing something…more.

  She hoped once they were outside again, things would seem more…normal and less…tense.

  You can never have too many friends.

  His words from last night sounded in her head. She’d lost track of so many or barely kept in touch with others over social media. A new friend would be nice, and she had seen him every day she’d been in Marietta. Being friends could work.

  Chantelle had never left a town she’d visited with someone to call friend. She’d gone in, done her research, and left with only her notes and photographs.

  He pulled the key from the ignition. “We have a few minutes to look around.”

  She slid out of his car. Fresh air filled her lungs. No worries about York being too close, but his standing ten feet away seemed too far.

  Pathetic.

  Friends didn’t worry about space or distance or…

  He walked toward her. His movement was athletic, graceful, and confident. “Ever been to a dude ranch?”

  “No.”

  “What do you think?”

  I’m glad I’m here with you. That wasn’t what he was asking her, but she was acting as if she’d never been around a handsome guy before. Her gaze bounced like a Ping-Pong ball, trying to see everything at once without looking at York until she focused on the building in front of her.

  Say something. “I never thought ranches were this high end.”

  “The Bar V5 pays attention to the details.”

  As York rocked back on his heels, the sun brought out his golden highlights. He almost looked as if he were wearing a halo. Too funny given his kisses were the definition of temptation.

  “Expensive, but worth the money,” he said. “They sell out every summer.”

  Rooftops of smaller guest cabins peeked through the trees in front of where cattle grazed in a pasture. On the other side of the lodge, just beyond the end of the long driveway, was a meadow where horses ran to the fence to greet visitors. Beyond that, she could see other buildings, including an old red barn. The only thing that met her preconceived notions were the sounds of cows and a hint of manure smell mixed in the air, but even that was masked well by the scent of nearby flowers.

  She wouldn’t mind staying here. The ranch seemed like the perfect place to get away from it all. “They must be doing something right.”

  York stuck a thumb in his front pocket. “I hope you don’t mind this slight detour.”

  “Not at all.” She wanted to experience all Montana had to offer. “I’m glad you suggested we come here.”

  He motioned to her. “It’s almost time.”

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  His lopsided grin made her catch her breath and sent the butterflies in her stomach flapping. If this kept up, it would be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Nine

  A minute or two later, the sound of a motor filled the air. Chantelle looked to her left to see a tractor coming up the driveway. The driver was a blond-haired man—a nice-looking one—wearing a cowboy hat, a western-style shirt, and a navy bandana around his neck.

  The tractor pulled a wagon covered in hay. Eli, the cowboy who’d been at the chocolate shop, rode on that.

  Even her toes felt as if they were smiling. “We’re going on a hayride?”

  “Ever been on one?”

  “A long time ago when I was little.” Chantelle pushed aside the memories. Happy ones, but bittersweet. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of her enjoying this. “How did you think of this?”

  “I wish I could take credit, but Dustin—he’s the one driving—suggested it. There’s a bonfire afterward and s’more making.”

  “Fun.” Just as York said.

  People climbed onto the wagon with help from Eli and Dustin. A brown-haired girl dressed completely in pink, including her boots, waved at the cowboys and blew them a kiss, but she didn’t get aboard. Chantelle and York moved to a short line that was forming. Soon, it was their turn.

  “Welcome to the Bar V5.” The blond cowboy was better looking up close, but not as handsome as York. “I’m Dustin.”

  Earlier, York had told her how Nevada had teamed up with Dustin to up their chances of winning the Valentine Quest in February. Nevada had walked away from the multi-day race with a prize for herself—Dustin.

  “Chantelle,” she said.

  Dustin helped her up into the wagon where Eli was getting everyone seated. “Enjoy the hayride.”

  As she sat on a hay bale, York took the spot next to her. He’d left space, not quite a foot, between them.

  “Do you want me to take your picture?” he asked.

  She handed him her phone. “Sure. I can use it on my blog.”

  “Smile.” He held up the camera, snapped it, and then looked closer at the screen. “Cute.”

  Did he mean the picture or her?

  Shouldn’t matter.

  “Thanks.” She took back her phone. “Do you want one?�
��

  “No, thanks.” He half-laughed. “If I posted a photo of me doing something fun, even if it’s a photo of only me, my mother would start asking me the W-questions.”

  “W-questions?”

  “Who are you with? What’s her name? Where did you meet? Why didn’t you tell me? Will I get to meet her?”

  “Yikes.”

  “She means well, but she’s decided all three of her kids need to settle down ASAP.”

  “Two out of three…”

  “My feelings exactly, but I’m not giving my mom any ammunition.” He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. My mom’s great, but she’s been on this get-married kick for almost a year. It’s getting old, but now that Bryce and Dustin are in the picture, I hope she forgets about me.

  “I can’t imagine anyone forgetting you.” The words were out before Chantelle realized what she was saying. Her cheeks burned.

  His dark gaze met hers. “Does that mean you’ll remember me when you’re living in France?”

  Not trusting her voice, Chantelle nodded. It wasn’t only his kisses that were unforgettable. Something about York himself made him memorable.

  He leaned toward her.

  Was he going to kiss her?

  Heaven help her, but she wanted him to kiss her.

  She held her breath. Waited.

  York leaned back. “I won’t forget you, either.”

  “Really?” Chantelle wanted to cringe. She sounded like an insecure teenager.

  “Lesley gave Dakota and me each a copy of The Chocolate Touch after your book signing, so I’ll keep that on my bookcase.”

  Chantelle’s shoulders sagged, and she pushed them back. “When you aren’t living out of a suitcase.”

  “Right. The book will stay at Dakota’s until I have a place with a bookcase.”

  The odds of the book never meeting up with York again sounded high. It shouldn’t matter. Chantelle wished she didn’t care if he kept the book or not, but a part of her did. She wanted him to remember her. Even if that meant it was remembering the author he’d met and not the time they’d spent together.

  She, however, would never forget York Parker. The man, his smile, his kisses. Her feelings about him confused her. The more she tried to figure them out, the more scrambled her thoughts became. It made zero sense. She was the one who’d backed away and jumped at his suggesting they be friends for all the right reasons, yet…

  Focus on the future.

  Delacroix Chocolates, a place to call home in France, family.

  Those three things were what mattered. Nothing else. She forced a friendly smile. “I hope you enjoy the book.”

  *

  York enjoyed the hayride. He’d gone all in being Chantelle’s friend, and that wasn’t working out too bad. He just needed to stop staring at her and inching closer without realizing that was what he was doing. But other than that, he was good.

  Chantelle stood next to the bonfire. Flames shot up to the darkening sky. She looked beautiful.

  Holding a half-eaten s’more, she glanced his way. “This is the perfect ending to an enjoyable day.”

  “It is.” Watching Chantelle’s reactions to the ranch’s breathtaking views had been worth the drive.

  “I’m so happy you brought me here. It’s been great.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips together. He was afraid if he started telling her all the reasons he was glad, he would cross over the friend line. Not that telling her what a good sport she’d been when a cow scared her so badly she’d jumped two feet in the air was bad. Or that he was proud of the way she’d overcome her embarrassment when Eli asked her to sing a chorus of a cowboy song he’d taught them. But York wanted to keep himself dialed back.

  For both their sakes.

  Chantelle crossed her arms over her chest. She wore a light jacket, but the temperature had dropped with the setting sun.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little, but the bonfire is warming me up.”

  He knew a way to heat her up. Strike that. “Take my coat.”

  Shaking her head, she held out her hands toward the fire. “I’m good. Soon, I’ll be toasty.”

  “If not—”

  “You don’t have to big brother me.”

  Was that how she saw this? Saw him? “I’m not.”

  She eyed him warily.

  “I brought you here. I don’t want you to be miserable.” As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. “Or get sick. Or…”

  He was making this worse with every word he said.

  “That’s sweet. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.” She lowered her hands to her sides. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  I’ll take care of you.

  The thought sprang out of nowhere.

  He took a step away from her because his days of taking care of people were coming to an end. He didn’t want anyone else depending on him. He was about to make a fresh start and didn’t want to drag any baggage with him.

  Oh, he’d always be there for Dakota and Nevada, but they had their boyfriends. The more he got to know Bryce and Dustin, the more he realized how much the men loved his sisters. Neither woman needed York in the same way they once did. That would give him even more freedom come June.

  “Goodnight, all,” a man with two kids said. The kids seemed to have more energy than their dad.

  Other people remained by the bonfire. A few hearty souls had seconds and thirds of the s’mores.

  “Just trying to be a good friend,” York said finally.

  “You have been.” Staring at the bonfire, she stuck her hands in her jacket pocket. “Thanks. And I didn’t mean big brother in a negative way. I noticed you talking to Dustin. I figured you were grilling him about his intentions toward Nevada.”

  “No grilling. The guy makes my baby sister so happy, and the feeling seems mutual,” York admitted. “I was just asking him about some of the people in town.”

  “Clues to narrow down your unsub list?”

  “Something like that.” York had asked Dustin questions about various residents. Hearing that the judge had changed after a tragedy struck his family made York want to do more for the man, but how could he and keep things secret? “The donor wants to remain anonymous, but I’d still like to do something, however small, so no one on the list would feel singled out.”

  “What if the donor isn’t on your list?” she asked.

  The judge wasn’t, but only York knew that. “Then I’d be doing random acts of kindness, and I’d hope some paid it forward to include the anonymous benefactor.”

  “You could say you’re doing this to thank the town for sponsoring the event and the residents for supporting it. A quest of your own, except a gratitude one.”

  “A gratitude quest.”

  She nodded.

  “I like that,” he said.

  “You really want to thank the person who donated the trip, don’t you?”

  It was his turn to nod. “According to Dakota, secrets seem to be common knowledge in Marietta, but this one has been hard to crack.”

  Lines creased Chantelle’s forehead. “Secrets should never be shared for public entertainment value. You were the recipient of a fantastic vacation, but if you somehow discover the donor’s identity, that isn’t your story to tell. Trust whoever it is has a valid reason for remaining anonymous. That’s the right—the responsible thing to do. No matter what others in this town might do or say.”

  “You’re right. And thanks.”

  He wanted to wrap his arms around Chantelle and hug her tight. That was how he saw this, too. Instead, he kept his distance.

  “Making this a gratitude quest is a brilliant idea.” He could keep the judge’s actions a secret but still do something nice for him, as well as for others. A win-win. “I just hope I can pull this off.”

  She took a breath and then exhaled slowly. “If you need ideas, let me know. I think we’re workin
g together on Monday.”

  “That’s Dakota’s usual day off.”

  “Sage mentioned it this morning.”

  “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

  But York hoped that was the case. Maybe at the chocolate shop, they could go back to the banter and fun they had on Thursday. Friendly fun that would make his wanting to touch and kiss her go away, too.

  *

  Monday morning at the chocolate shop, Chantelle greeted York with a wave and smile. He’d been on her mind all Sunday. A hundred things she could say swirled through her mind, but she kept her lips pressed together. The same lips that had wished on a star for his kiss on Saturday night. No need to say anything when they’d be working together today.

  She headed into the back.

  So what if she kept thinking about him?

  York was her friend and coworker, nothing more, but women thought about gorgeous guys all the time.

  No big deal.

  The scent of roasting cacao beans filled the air, and a pot of chocolate was on the stove. She inhaled, letting the aromas soothe her nerves. If only she could stay in the back today…

  “Good morning.” Sage set out chocolate molds.

  Chantelle placed her purse in a cubby before putting on her apron. “Hard at work already.”

  “I like to start early.”

  Chantelle spent yesterday working on her report about Copper Mountain Chocolates and still had a couple of questions. Might as well get the answers before the shop officially opened. “Do you start early so you can leave early?”

  “Yes. I like to be out of here before school gets out, and I try to limit the Saturdays I work.”

  “That must work out well with the kids.”

  “Better than I expected it would.” Sage checked the contents in the pot. “I opened the shop before I was married. Back then, Copper Mountain Chocolates was my only baby, but with some juggling and a helpful husband, owning a business and being a mom has worked out well.”

  The chocolatier didn’t sound unhappy or frustrated, like someone who wanted out of an overwhelming situation. If anything, her tone spoke of being content and in control. That was good for Sage, but not for Uncle Laurent if he wanted Copper Mountain Chocolates.