“Welcome…” She looked up from the chocolate. Her gaze locked on Bryce’s blue eyes. A funny feeling grabbed hold of her stomach. Not queasiness, more like bubbles or…tingles. Weird because she should be red-hot angry with him.
“Welcome to Copper Mountain Chocolates,” Portia said, shooting Dakota a what-is-wrong-with-you look.
With a slight shrug to dismiss her reaction, Dakota turned her attention to their customer.
Bryce carried a tall-sized cup with a lid and a sleeve from the Java Café down the street. He wore the same leather jacket as last night, but had on a plaid scarf, brown pants, and shoes. Stylish fall clothes. Dressier and more coordinated than what she was used to seeing on the regulars who came into the shop. But then again, he wasn’t from here and designed buildings. Maybe he was into color, too.
She raised the full tray of samples. “Would you like a taste of Sage’s single-origin dark chocolate bar? Oh, wait. You don’t eat chocolate.”
“I don’t.”
Dakota set the tray on the counter. “What does Walt need for his friends?”
Bryce’s mouth slanted in a lopsided grin.
Whatever was happening in her tummy increased. She took a deep breath to calm her out-of-control nerves.
“You’re not only a dog whisperer, but you’re also a mind reader,” he said.
Longing surged through her. “I wish.”
That would make life easier and more interesting. She could sort through the wrong guys and know what animals were thinking.
“I used logic, not mind reading,” she admitted. “You don’t eat chocolate, and Walt couldn’t have eaten all he has, so why else would you be here?”
“Logically, I could have my own reason for being here.”
“You could.” His words hinted at a secret, but he could be teasing her or he could be getting ready to offend her again. “Do I need to put on a bulletproof vest?”
Her gaze locked on his. Not quite a stare down, but close. She had no idea what was going on or why he had such an effect on her. He was Walt’s son, but also a stranger from out of town. Not someone she’d be interested in, and she knew he felt the same way about her. Yet, she couldn’t look away.
“I’m going into the back.” Portia made a beeline for the kitchen.
That was weird. Unless Portia wanted to take her break and eat.
Her leaving diffused the tension in the air. It was time to regain control.
“So what kind of chocolate does your dad want?” Dakota asked.
“Two small boxes of chocolates. One for Willa and the other for Gladys. He said you’d know what they like.”
“Milk chocolate salted caramels for Willa and assorted truffles for Gladys,” Dakota said without hesitation.
“Impressive.”
“Not really. Marietta is a small town. You get to know what the locals prefer.”
She grabbed two small boxes. Using tongs, she filled the first one with the salted caramels, but her gaze kept straying to Bryce. Each time, she found him watching her the way he had yesterday.
Her fingers trembled.
A ridiculous reaction to a male customer. Except Bryce wasn’t someone who just walked into the store. Was that why she was reacting so strangely around him. Because of Walt?
No matter the reason, she needed to focus. “How’s your day going?”
“Good. I was at the rescue earlier.”
The meeting! She held the tongs in midair. “Is the damage as bad as you thought?”
“Surprisingly no. You were correct that things look better in the daylight.”
A weight lifted from her shoulders. Now if her hands would stop shaking. “When do repairs start?”
“I don’t know yet. Lori wants my dad to help pick a crew.”
“Couldn’t Walt’s company do it? He says he trusts his guys implicitly.”
“They have two big projects right now, so no time to take on something like this.”
Dakota closed the lid. “Too bad.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He sounded confident, but the dark circles under his eyes told her that he was tired.
“Not what you expected to be doing in Montana.”
“No, but I don’t mind. This is important to my dad. I have to prepare a proposal I’ll be turning in when I get back to Seattle, but the quiet is letting me get lots of work done so I can help.”
He might have hurt her feelings yesterday, but he seemed to care about his dad enough to spend time with him, even if he was working. Bet he knew how to put together a proposal that wasn’t “simplistic.” She filled the second box with truffles.
She had more questions about the actual damage, but Bryce wasn’t here for small talk. The sooner he left, the better for her peace of mind.
“There’s another reason I came to the shop today,” he said.
She didn’t look up. “What’s that?”
“To see you.”
She froze, but managed not to drop the chocolate being held by the tongs. “Because…”
“I owe you an apology for the way I spoke to you yesterday at my father’s house and outside the rescue. I let emotion get the best of me in both situations.”
His words were unexpected. Dakota set the tongs and chocolate on a nearby platter.
Bryce shook his head. “I was wrong. Rude. Twice. I’m very sorry.”
She respected a man who could admit he’d made a mistake. Maybe he was more like Walt than she realized. And holding grudges never solved anything. “Apology accepted. I’m sure it’s hard seeing your dad injured. You must worry about him.”
Bryce nodded. “I do. I lost my mom four years ago, and until my dad fell, I didn’t realize how afraid I am of losing him, too.”
His words squeezed her heart. A good thing she was on the other side of the counter, because all she wanted to do was hug him.
He was being protective of his dad. That didn’t make what he’d said right, but she understood better now. The times her dad deployed had been tough on the entire family. There were nights when she’d stay awake to pray for his safe return. She only wished words came easier to her. “He’s going to recover.”
“Yes, but… My dad doesn’t think this fall or his broken legs were any big deal.”
So like Walt. That made her smile. “Walt’s a strong, proud man, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been affected by the accident. He could be more afraid by his fall than he’s letting on and putting on a show for you.”
“You think?”
“Yes.” She rang up the two boxes, placed each into a bag, added tissue paper to the top, and tied ribbon around each of the handles.
He handed her a credit card.
Reading the name Bryce W. Grayson on his card made her laugh. Figured he wouldn’t pay cash once she knew his name. “Do you remember what your dad told me last night before I left?”
“No.” Bryce signed the sales slip.
“He said we don’t always know why, but things happen for a reason.” Walt had been talking about the broken pipe, but the words applied here. “Maybe your father’s accident brought you to Marietta for something else. Something—I don’t know—more important.”
Bryce ran his hand along his jawline. A faraway look appeared in his eyes. “You may be right about that.”
He sounded better, which was all that mattered to Dakota. She handed him the two bags. “Do you have time for a hot chocolate?”
A wry grin appeared. Those baby blues of his made her insides feel like melted chocolate. That was the last way she should feel about him. “No, but you don’t give up, do you?”
She shrugged.
“Another time,” he said.
Dakota doubted he’d ever come in for a cup. Her gaze met his.
Something passed between them. A connection. A feeling.
Heat pulsed through her.
Oh, no. She hoped she didn’t turn into a gooey mess.
This was bad.
He picked up the tw
o bags. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The words sounded hoarse, as if the lump she felt in her throat was real and not some figment of her imagination.
Go, she pleaded silently.
Before she did something crazy.
Like invite him out for a coffee and dessert at the bakery down the street where they served other items besides chocolate.
Why was she thinking that way about him?
He opened the door, and the bell rang.
As soon as Bryce walked out of the shop, Dakota picked up a rag and scrubbed the counter. And scrubbed and scrubbed. She had no idea why, but her mind was reeling from his visit and the way she reacted to him.
“Rub any harder and we may need to replace the countertop.” Portia walked in from the back. “For someone who says chocolate is better than men, you sure were checking out that guy.”
Dakota’s chest tightened. She forced herself to breathe.
Had Bryce noticed? She hoped not.
But he was gone, and Portia was here.
Dakota needed to downplay his effect on her. Her coworker had so much going on—moving into a new place and not feeling well.
She rinsed out the rag. “He has nice eyes.”
“So do half the cowboys who come in here. You like him.”
She stopped. “I only met him yesterday. He also said a of couple rude things to me.”
Portia shrugged. “You two seem pretty chummy, which tells me you like him.”
“He apologized. I was being nice. I don’t know him.” Dakota rinsed out the rag. She needed Thursday to arrive ASAP, so Kelly could talk some sense into her.
“Then you have a crush.”
“I’m too old for crushes.”
“You’re never too old for a crush.” The color had returned to Portia’s face. Whatever had been wrong with her stomach seemed better. “He seems interested in you. Maybe he’ll ask you out.”
A thrill pulsed through Dakota until reality stopped it cold. “I sure hope not. I’d have to say no.”
“Because you’re too busy.”
She tossed the rag into the bleach water bucket and then washed her hands. “Exactly.”
“No other reason?” Portia asked.
Dakota remembered the tears and the pain after Craig had called off the wedding. Her foster animals—a cat and a dog at the time—had been the only things to get her out of bed each morning. Not even work could make her forget how much she’d hurt.
Was she ready to open her heart and risk being hurt again?
Maybe, but not with a city guy with pretty blue eyes who lived two states away and let words fly out of his mouth in frustration. The man was Mr. Wrong in so many ways.
“I don’t have time to go on a date. I have animals spread across the three counties. That’s my priority right now. Not romance.”
Chapter Five
After work, Dakota sat on her living room couch with Pierre, the Dumbo rat she also fostered, on her shoulder. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke.” Lori Donovan sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. Scout lay on her lap, and Rascal sat at her feet. Both dogs adored the rescue’s director. “If we can find homes for all the animals by Thanksgiving, Whiskers and Paw Pals will receive a six-figure donation. I want you to head the adoption effort.”
“That’s…” Whatever words Dakota was going to say disappeared. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“If anyone can do this, you can.” Lori petted the dogs, one with each hand. “What do you say?”
No. That was what Dakota wanted to say. No way could she pull this off in less than a month. She pressed her lips together. Pierre’s whiskers tickled her neck. She touched his back.
Had Lori forgotten what she’d said about Dakota “living in a fantasyland with pet unicorns and never-ending rainbows” or had the director bought a ticket to go there?
Dakota took a breath. And another. “You said Christmas was an unrealistic time frame for my Home for the Holidays proposal. Thanksgiving is a month sooner. And nothing’s been presented to the board of directors yet.”
“That was before the water damage. The benefactor feels the money would not only help pay for additional repairs, but it would also allow us to update the building and spur adoptions.”
Dakota’s jaw tensed. “Adoptions shouldn’t be spurred.”
“Wrong choice of words.” Lori stopped rubbing the dogs. “The animals need homes.”
Dakota wanted to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. “You said all animals.”
“That’s the benefactor’s criteria.”
“Then my answer is no. Not all animals can be adopted. We have three senior cats in fospice.”
That was what the rescue called foster-hospice situations where animals with terminal illnesses spent their final days, weeks, or months in a loving foster home.
“And what about our four Lonely Hearts? None of them has come close to being adopted since they arrived at the rescue. Another eight dogs and cats are in foster-to-adopt situations. We have agreements with those families.” The more Dakota said, the less hopeful she became. “Is the benefactor willing to be flexible about those animals?”
Lines formed around Lori’s mouth. She sat back in the chair. “I don’t know.”
“If not, we…I…can’t do this. I’m just a volunteer. This is crazy.” That much was clear to Dakota. “Even if the benefactor is willing to compromise, I’m not sure the rescue should do this. Are you sure the offer is legit?”
“Yes, it’s legit. I don’t understand why this is crazy.” Lori’s hard gaze bore into Dakota. “You said your dream is to find forever homes for all animals. Now’s your chance. Not only can you do that with the rescue’s support, but there’s also a huge reward at the end.”
Dakota thought about what she wanted to say. “Each animal deserves a family and home, but the right ones. A six-figure carrot dangling overhead can’t change our mission. We can’t loosen the adoption standards and requirements just to receive a donation.
“We won’t.” Lori spoke firmly. “No animal will be adopted out to meet a quota, but I’ll be honest with you, Whiskers and Paw Pals needs the money to survive.”
The words hung in the air. This wasn’t what Dakota expected to hear. She knew things had gotten tighter, but she was a volunteer and knew little about the financials other than what money they’d raised at events.
Her pulsed raced faster than Rascal when she’d tried to let him go off-leash at the dog park. She took a breath. It didn’t help.
“Survive as in keep the doors open?” she asked.
Lori nodded. “We’ve been hanging on by our fingernails. Even without the water damage, I’ve been trying to rework the budget. The medical balances at the veterinarian clinics we use are out of control. We have a large volunteer base, so downsizing paid staff is on the table.”
Those people—her friends—depended on the salaries. And with the holidays coming up…
On the table. Not for certain.
Dakota petted Pierre. She knew each fundraiser mattered, but she’d had no idea things were this bad. “I see why this donation is important, but Whiskers and Paw Pals has an excellent reputation for a reason. You’ve put what’s best for the animals before anything else.”
Lori rubbed her palms against the side of her jeans so she didn’t disturb Scout. “You’re concerns about the donation requirements are valid ones.”
That made Dakota sit taller in her chair.
“I’ll speak to the benefactor and see if there’s room for negotiation,” Lori added.
“Thank you.”
Rascal used Lori’s foot as a pillow. “In the meanwhile, rework your proposal with Thanksgiving as the target date. Have it to me by Friday morning.”
Dakota’s heart dropped. “Friday morning?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“O-kay.” Pressure pounded at Dakota’s forehead like a jackhammer. Her palm
s sweated. She didn’t want to disappoint Lori, but the idea of rewriting the proposal with such a tight deadline terrified Dakota. She trembled.
“Talk to Tim at the feed store and see if we can hold the drive there,” Lori added.
Dakota nodded. Clearing her throat, she fought her rising panic. “If the benefactor’s willing to compromise, get it in writing so the requirements are clear.”
Lori smiled. “You’d make a good lawyer.”
That was what her mother wanted her to be. Her mom had married young and never finished college. She’d put an emphasis on education—high school, college, and graduate school—from the time Dakota and her siblings were little kids. Her mom kept saying it wasn’t too late for Dakota to go to law school, but college had been challenging enough. She’d discovered why thanks to a tutor—Dakota had a reading disability that had never been diagnosed—and learned skills so she wouldn’t get so frustrated, but the thought of law school still intimidated her. Six years ago, she’d decided not to apply as her mom wanted and moved to live with Aunt Alice in Marietta instead.
“Thanks, but I hate dressing up.” Dakota kept her tone light, but her insides twisted from years of feeling inadequate and stupid. “I also doubt they allow anything other than service dogs in the courthouse.”
That made Lori smile. She moved a sleeping Scout from her lap and then stood. “I’ll be in touch, but, in the meanwhile, rewrite your Home for the Holidays proposal with this new time frame. You can fill in the adoption goal once I hear back from the benefactor.”
“Who is it?”
“Anonymous. The person approached us through an attorney in Bozeman.”
“That’s weird.”
Lori shrugged. “The wealthy can be eccentric.”
Eccentric or not, this didn’t sound right to Dakota. “Still seems strange.”
Lori laughed. “Yes, it does. I’ll call as soon as I know anything more. See you on Friday morning.”
The woman gave each dog a pat and Pierre, too, before she headed out the door.
“That was unexpected,” she said to the animals. “I wish you guys could talk back and let me know what you think.”
Scout slept. Rascal chased his tail. Pierre closed his eyes on her shoulder.
A Thankful Heart (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 2) Page 6