by Viv Royce
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Find your Bliss with these great releases… The Daddy Coach
The Soccer Player and the Single Mom
Catching Her Heart
Unexpectedly Yours
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Viv Royce. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 105, PMB 159
Fort Collins, CO 80525
[email protected]
Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Candace Havens
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover photography by Todor Tsvetkov, Weedezign, and StockPhotosArt/Getty Images
ISBN 978-1-64063-869-3
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition October 2019
Dear Reader,
Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.
xoxo
Liz Pelletier, Publisher
Chapter One
Snipping the mini marshmallows in halves with her scissors had been a brilliant idea, as they were now the exact right size for the edge of her miniature chocolate mug, but putting them onto a narrow edge with tweezers was rather a tough job.
Emma Miller exhaled in frustration as another little bit of fluffy pink shot in an unwanted direction and, after a bounce on her work counter, even jumped over the edge to the floor. If she kept going like this, she’d be knee-deep in marshmallows before her twenty mini mugs for a new customer were done.
The advice given on a business seminar she had taken echoed in her mind. “Time invested has to be earned back by income derived from the activity.” Well, her time invested here would certainly not be earned back. Nevertheless, doing this made her incredibly happy.
Sometimes she still didn’t believe it. That she had managed to rent a building on coveted Heart Street where all the artisan, often family-owned shops were. She was a stranger to town, an outsider, whom people might have blamed for muscling in on their territory. But everyone had been kind and welcoming.
Emma glanced through the open door of her workspace into her shop where a small imitation Christmas tree sat perched on the counter, decorated with miniature golden balls and fake snow. A present from all business owners to celebrate her first three months on Heart Street. With Christmas on the calendar in just two weeks’ time, her order list was full, and every minute put into making more sweet treats to deliver to customers in the run-up to the holidays.
What was that? Something seemed to move behind the glass counter. It stirred there, red and black.
Emma angled her head to look better. The bell over her door hadn’t jangled, but then again, she wasn’t 100 percent sure that she would have heard. She’d been too busy telling those pesky little marshmallow snippets to stick. It can hardly be a customer unless they’re crouching on hands and feet.
Putting her tweezers down on a plate by her side, Emma straightened up and walked through the open door in the shop’s space. Through the display case the shape took on a more solid form. And as she halted and leaned down over the counter, it fully materialized into a snow-drizzled little girl. The flakes rested tenderly on her black hair, which hung in long curls down her narrow shoulders. The cute red coat she wore was snow splattered as well and her feet, sticking in red boots, were moving as if she wriggled her toes to get the December cold out.
Big blue eyes gazed earnestly into hers. “I stood outside a little,” the girl said in a chirpy, nervous tone. “To think it over. But I have to do it, you know. I have to.”
She moved her feet again, maybe not to dispel the cold but her apparent nerves.
Emma had no idea why her shop or her person would be intimidating to a little girl, but nevertheless put on an even more welcoming smile. “You could have come in right away,” she said. “You can have a look around if you want to. You don’t need to buy anything.”
The leader of the business seminar would cringe, as he had drilled into them that every opportunity for a sale should be taken. But Emma didn’t particularly care for taking money off little girls who probably didn’t have all that much on them anyway. She remembered her own days of being seven, or eight, like this little one, and pushing her nose against shop windows to gaze inside and dream of everything on offer. In a house full of foster children there hadn’t always been the financial means to give presents. Birthdays and Christmas had been made special by handcrafted gifts and lovingly handwritten postcards, but still Emma had sometimes just longed for the talking doll or the puppy on a leash you could walk.
She smiled even wider. “Is there anything here you really like? I could, uh…” She glanced around as if to see that no one overheard them. “Let you try some.”
“Oh, no.” The girl’s cheeks turned as red as her little coat. “I don’t want any. It’s for Daddy.”
“For your father?” Emma asked, a little surprised. Her customers were mainly women who bought the treats for other women—mothers in law, sisters, friends—or who wanted to impress guests at a party.
The girl said, “You have to make them especially. Grandma said it. She said that you can make people fall in love.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “That I can do what?” she asked.
The girl hung her head and said something in a whisper.
Emma rounded the counter and squatted beside the girl. “What’s that? You can say it in my ear.” She tucked the white cotton of the protective cap behind her ear as if to hear better.
“What’s that for?” the little girl asked, eyeing the cloth on Emma’s head.
“It’s for when I work with the chocolate. To prevent any hairs from falling into it. That wouldn’t be nice for the customers. I also wear plastic gloves when I take bonbons out of their tray and put them into a box. So I don’t leave any fingerprints on them.”
The girl giggled. “You’re smart.” She looked Emma over. “I think you can really make people fall in love.”
“Why did your grandmother say that?”
“I don’t know. But it was about chocolate. And you have a chocolate shop here. You can help me to…” She fell silent and eyed Emma as if she was suddenly reluctant to share. She wore a mitten and, turning her palm up, she opened her hand. On the wool rested a few coins, probably not making two dollars. “I don’t know if you sell them like Grandpa sells plants,” the girl said with a weighty frown. “They go one by one or by the dozen. I’d really like a dozen, because then I can be sure Daddy will really fall in love. You see, I don’t think he wants to.”
“I see,” Emma said, furiously trying to process everythi
ng.
“Last week Aunt Fay was watching a movie where they kiss, and she asked Daddy to come and watch with her. But he said he didn’t want to see it. And when he noticed I had overheard, he told me that he doesn’t like kissing. That he thinks it’s stupid.” She laughed. “He asked me if I think it’s stupid too and he tickled me all of the time. I had to laugh and laugh until I fell on the floor. Then he carried me to bed.” She became serious again. “Then I thought about kissing. I don’t know if it’s stupid. Grandma and Grandpa kiss all the time and they’re happy. I want Daddy to be happy.” She put her mitten on Emma’s arm. “Please help me make Daddy happy again.”
Emma’s heart clenched at the tone of the little girl’s voice. She had to clear her throat before she could say, “But I don’t really understand what I should do. What’s your name?”
“Casey. Casey Galloway.”
Of course. Now the reference the girl had made to plants clicked into place. Galloway Nursery was well known in the entire region. They delivered plants and trees, mostly Christmas trees at this time of year. So, the elderly man Emma had seen around town with his white beard, as if he was Santa himself, and with a matching deep belly laugh was this little girl’s grandfather.
It must be great to have a big extended family and get together for Christmas.
“So, you’re staying here for the holidays?” she asked.
Casey shook her head. “It’s not holidays yet,” she corrected with a serious expression. “Miss Evelyn has made us a calendar in the classroom. And we cross off the days we still have to go to school. Miss Evelyn is really fun. I was worried first when we came here that I wouldn’t like school. But I do.”
“Do you live here?”
“Yes, for…” Casey thought long and hard, her face scrunched up in concentration. “Fourteen months now.” She beamed that she had worked it out. “That’s more than a year. That’s a long time, right?”
“A very long time. I’ve only been here for three months.”
“It’s good you came. You can help me now.” Casey presented Emma with the money again. “Is this enough?”
“What exactly do you want?”
“A dozen chocolates to make Daddy fall in love with Miss Evelyn.”
Emma almost lost her balance and had to put a hand to the tiled floor to stay seated on her haunches.
“If a dozen is too much,” Casey said quickly, “ten is okay as well, I guess. But he will have to eat some for a few days. Things don’t work when you don’t try them for a few days. That’s what Grandma told Grandpa when he had a cough and he wouldn’t take any more honey because it’s so sweet. Grandpa doesn’t like sweet things, but Daddy does. He always pinches Aunt Fay’s chocolate cake. I saw him do it once and he told me not to tell. You will keep it a secret, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Emma reassured her at once. Her legs had turned numb from sitting in this awkward position. She straightened up again and leaned down to Casey. “I think I don’t need any money for this special assignment. It will be a Christmas gift. Just tell me what flavors your daddy likes best.”
“Chocolate,” Casey said with a nod.
Emma laughed. “But I make all kinds of chocolate. Extra dark and white and cream. With fillings.”
“You have to decide. You know what to make. You are the…” Casey thought deep again. “Expert. Grandpa says you must never argue with an expert.”
Emma had rarely taken such a delicate order, phrased in such vague terms, but she couldn’t say no to this cute little girl. Casey obviously had a big loving family here in Wood Creek to look after her, but still she wanted one thing: to make Daddy happy.
Emma’s gut clenched. She came to the wrong person, a pestering voice in her head whispered. In all of Wood Creek you must be the only one who knows nothing about happiness. About falling in love. You can’t do this. Tell her your schedule is full, because of Christmas.
She bit her lip. But looking at the bonbons in her counter, her chest widened, and she pulled back her shoulders. I can make chocolate. I can shape it and fill it with the most delicious flavors. I do know about that, and that’s exactly what Casey’s here for. I can help her.
And I will.
Her head whirled with ideas and her hands itched to get started. Even if she had to work deep into the night to find the perfect combinations, she would. This assignment was special. Emma winked at Casey. “I’ll get your order ready for you. You can pick up the first batch tomorrow. Then you can give them to your father over the weekend. I’ll have new ones ready on Monday.”
“Do you think it will work?” Casey asked eagerly. Her eyes shone with a bright confidence that fanned the ideas drifting through Emma’s mind. Salted caramel. Cream with strawberries. Rum and raisin.
“Of course it will work,” she said.
Oh, really?
What if Casey’s dad falls in love with Miss Evelyn and she turns out to be engaged or something. You don’t know a thing about that teacher. You’re just throwing yourself into this, but you’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.
She added quickly, “I’m sure that when you wish for your father to be happy again, it will come true somehow.”
Casey exhaled in relief. “I knew it. Thank you.” She ran to the door and opened it, again without ringing the bell above. She slipped out into the snow that was falling even denser. Emma followed her to the door and watched her as she halted to look left and right before crossing and vanishing from sight behind a parked van. As her little form was no longer there to discern through the snowy curtain, it almost seemed unreal, as if the whole encounter hadn’t happened. Couldn’t have.
The chilly wind breathed across Emma’s face, and she shivered, ducking back inside. Her foot slipped, her weight tilted to the side and her arm swung up to keep her on her feet. Her heart pounded, and she sucked in a breath. The tiles underneath her feet were wet with a thin layer of dirty water. Melting snow.
Casey has been here. It’s all real. A real assignment, and a huge responsibility.
So maybe Casey’s dad didn’t want to fall in love, and maybe Miss Evelyn was engaged to another, but that wasn’t the point. The point was doing what Casey had asked. Reassure her she had done everything in her power for her daddy’s happiness.
Emma nodded to herself and retreated into her workspace, where the marshmallows were still waiting for her. Picking up the tweezers, her thoughts were circling on her delicate assignment.
What to make for this man who had proclaimed to hate kissing…
Chapter Two
“Coffee?”
Grant Galloway froze on the top step of the stairs, his hand on the railing, as if he was caught red-handed sneaking in after staying out too late.
“Sure, Mom,” he called back down in as casual a tone as he could. Good thing he now knew she’d be coming up to the workroom to bring him the coffee as soon as she had finished making it fresh. She knew that once he was caught up in work, he forgot everything around him, including her delicious mocha. Tonight, however, Grant wasn’t going to work on administration or new orders for trees but an incredibly exhilarating, even forbidden thing.
On the door of his workroom was a big piece of paper with crooked lettering in bright red reading hussssssh, Daddy is working. Casey had made it after he had explained to her that this was his office now, and he couldn’t read her stories while it was office time. The strokes of each letter had been scratched into the paper with energy, and he bet she had been at it with the tip of her tongue between her lips. Anything to help him out. That’s my little princess.
She had no idea he had used the so-called office to hide in when he just couldn’t deal with her rushing in and chirping about some storybook to him, demanding he come and read to her. In her bedroom, with the warm light on and her looking up at him with her teddies and stuffed elephants and little lions all tucked in around her, his throat had been too tight to get out a “once upon a time.” A little princess, left alo
ne, no mother anymore to care for her. He’d rather work hard for hours on end, closing the workroom door as a barrier, and let Grandma read Casey stories—when he just couldn’t do it without crying. Without making Casey cry as well. Anything to keep the pain away from you, princess.
Grant reached out a finger and touched the words with a smile. They had made a special deal that when he didn’t come in at night for story time, he made it up to her in the daytime when they could run around the tree nursery and play hide and seek. It was easier when the sun was bright in the sky, easier to chase her and catch her and lift her high and laugh and not think of what they had been when there had still been three of them. Not just two.
Then “two” had meant “one short,” but these days two made up his unit, his team. The best team in the world, going to fly out on new adventures.
Sitting down at the overloaded desk with the old computer, he logged onto his own account in which he usually worked on the administration and opened the email program.
No new emails.
No replies to his recent applications for jobs as a pilot. Silence. He hadn’t put the emails through to his cell phone for that exact reason: the moment of backlash when there was no mail. A sort of deafening silence, whispering to him he was too old, and he’d never get back in.
Nothing a little persistence can’t fix. He leaned forward to click open the browser and surf to sites where he might find new job offerings, companies or individuals looking for an experienced pilot. For himself, he wasn’t picky and would have taken on anything as long as it could get him up in the air again, but for Casey’s sake there had to be some conditions met. He had to be able to work hours while she was in school. No more long international flights like he had done before. Only regional flights and only during daytime hours.
Which excludes just about everything on this list.
His shoulders were tight from leaning in, and he rolled them back, taking a few deep breaths. The perfect vacancy is around somewhere. You just have to find it.
“Break time.” The door swung open wide, and his mother came in with the coffee, carrying a bright orange mug in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. He minimized the screen quickly so she couldn’t see what he was doing.