“Try what?” I surveyed the store, internally paralyzed by the possibility of seeing Kael.
Rachel led me to the kitchen where I’d been for the cooking class. “Kael made his first batch of peppermint bark. It’s to die for.” She snagged an irregular piece from a stainless steel tray and handed it to me. It smelled like Christmas.
I frowned at it. Seriously? He made candy?
I hated him—in the most Christian way possible, of course.
Chewing it slowly, my complicated feelings toward him continued to twist into knots.
Amazing—AMAZING sex.
But just sex.
My competitor.
Chocolatier.
Tillie Cunningham’s upcoming date.
“Better than sex, right?” Rachel smirked.
I had mixed feelings about that too.
“Oh!” She glanced over my shoulder. “I never did catch for sure … have you met Kael?” As she nodded toward the door behind me, I finished chewing the peppermint bark and swallowed hard before pivoting like a stripped nut on a rusty bolt—my finger wiping chocolate from the corner of my mouth.
He wore a red, long-sleeved shirt under his white untied apron hanging loosely around his neck. Dark jeans hung almost as loosely around his hips. And those boots … they were the same ones that had waited by my door as we did things the previous night.
“We’ve met.” One corner of Kael’s mouth curled into a conspiratorial grin.
“Hope you don’t mind. I had to let Elsie try your peppermint bark.” Rachel covered the tray of holiday goodness.
“Not at all. Mrs. Smith can taste anything she’d like to taste.” He lived to embarrass me. “Rachel, your windshield is cleared, and your car is warm.”
She nudged my arm with hers. “Told you he’s the best. He does it for all of his employees. Ready?”
I remained unmoved by his generosity. My glare said it all, and he knew it.
“I’ll walk Elsie out after I have a word with her. We’ve been trying to finalize some ideas for cross-promotion.”
“That’s an awesome idea. Well, maybe dinner this Friday, Elsie?”
I gave her a single nod and a quick glance with a stiff smile. “Sounds good. Night.”
Kael walked her to the front door and locked it behind her. Then he shut off the shop lights, leaving on some LED accent lights around his holiday decorations.
“Nice boots.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorway into the kitchen.
My chin dropped to the red ankle boots I wore with my light gray leggings, cream velvet tunic dress, and charcoal wool coat. “So … you start your employees’ cars and clear the snow from their windshields, huh? That’s very nice of you.”
It was very nice of him, but I didn’t make it sound that way.
“Your windshield is cleared too. But I couldn’t find you to get your keys to start it.”
“I can start my own vehicle. Thanks.” I glanced up, feeling the undeniable spark between us, so I turned and meandered around his kitchen, looking at anything but him while increasing the distance between us.
“Can I get you something to eat? I have some leftovers from the lunch I made my team today.”
“Your team?” I leaned in and sniffed fresh herbs in the trays under the grow lamp—rosemary, thyme, basil, and sage.
“My employees. But I call them my team. We’re in it together.”
“How nice of you.”
“It really is.”
So damn cocky.
“Want more peppermint bark? It was just a fun experiment, but everyone loved it, so I’m going to package it and sell it.”
“No. I don’t want more chocolate.” I continued to navigate my way around the big island.
“Well, if you don’t want dinner or chocolate, can I offer you anything else like … me?”
Grunting a laugh, I shifted my attention to him. “We’re not having sex again.”
“No?” He canted his head to the side, hands partially planted into his front pockets.
“No. It wouldn’t be fair to Tillie Cunningham.” I clasped my hands behind my back, gaze unblinking at him.
“Why? Are you having sex with her too?”
“Yes. I’m bisexual.” I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re having dinner with her. And that’s fine. I really don’t care. But she’s in my grief recovery support group, and I’m not going to get in the way of your budding relationship.”
He chuckled. “Budding relationship? It’s dinner. I did some stuff for her, and she invited me to dinner.”
“A date.”
Kael inched his head side to side. “I don’t know about that. Does dinner have to be a date?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s implied.”
His lips corkscrewed as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Did we have a date last night?”
“No.” My answer shot out without hesitation. “It was sex.”
Satisfaction crawled up his face. “So we’re on the same page.”
I nodded because I didn’t know what the previous night had been.
Because I was new to the world of casual sex.
Because I’d spent my life raising a family.
Because I was forty-two and in over my head.
“So we agree that dinner can just be dinner. Dates are open to interpretation. And sex doesn’t have to be a date or preceded by a meal.”