Love, Chocolate, and Beer (Cactus Creek #1)(9)

No, the only way he’d tell her that the homers they discussed all the time were...errr, another kind of home run would be through a ‘Dear Quinn’ letter. A lovely posthumous one by certified mail.

In the meantime, Luke was just going to have to keep his reflexive chuckles at bay. Silent though they may be, each one was inching him up the will-call list for the bus to hell for sure.

Ignoring one such chuckle right now, he found himself humming MLB’s seventh inning tune instead. That is…until he turned around and saw Quinn frowning. For cryin’ out loud, the woman used to analyze things to death after sex too. He rolled his eyes. “Oh, just tell me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the bonbon is fantastic—unique flavor, great texture. But...” She made another face. “White chocolate, Luke? Really? The lil’ white wallflower of the chocolate family? Isn’t this against your religion or something?”

She knew him so well.

“I’m reborn.” Despite the marked improvements in the purity and quality of white chocolate over the years following the added FDA regulations back in ‘04, Luke still generally never worked with the stuff. Until now. “Honestly, I’ve just never been a huge fan of the flavor before I tasted this particular white chocolate.”

His eyes drifted innocently to the ceiling as he slid a rather large file of papers onto her desk. “Remember that chocolate festival I was at last week?” He flashed all his teeth and one of his dimples at her. “Well, I met a new chocolate maker from Japan who makes this insane couverture white chocolate recipe—”

As soon as Quinn snatched the file from him, Luke jumped out of her kicking range. “Hear me out before you knee me in the nuts. I had to move fast to sign him. This guy uses only the best of the best: Venezuelan criollo beans, a mind-blowing Kamahi and Rata honey blend from New Zealand—remind me to order some for our fudge by the way—and gold-label Tahitian vanilla. Quinn, you know how picky I am about vanilla.”

Oh lord, if her scowl was anything to go by, it was obvious she’d gotten to the money portion of the contract. To cut off her fit of objections, which promised to be way more voice than reason, he slipped a second bonbon in her mouth.

“You have to admit, it’s pretty darn incredible, right?” It was. And the rich filling he’d made using a cloudberry liqueur from Finland was both an intense and sublime match. He didn’t have to wait long for her besieged taste buds to start overruling her bullheaded sensibilities.

Another purr. “Hey, is that...” Her brows arched in surprise. “Is there coffee in this?”

Damn, she’s getting good. Hiding the proud big brother grin he knew she hated, Luke marveled at how far Quinn had come since they’d first opened up his tiny, hole-in-the-wall chocolate shop in Mesa years ago—light years from the delicate daisy she’d been in college a decade back.

“That coffee note is in the chocolate itself,” he explained. “Probably one of the secret ingredients in the flavor profile. Aside from a special Korean pine nut this guy’s known to use, we’ll never know for sure though, considering how heavily guarded chocolate recipes are these days.”

Quinn looked up skeptically. “Wait, that’s the big new idea you wanted to run by me today? White chocolate?”

So saying, she did reach over to steal another morsel. “Honestly, Luke, unless you’re seeing a wave of folks flooding in to buy these for their dogs, this isn’t ‘revolutionary’ enough to help us with all the overhead costs we’re racking up leasing out this whole building. I mean I’ve managed to keep the hype going with our old customers via social media but I still think we need to worry about exposure and access since you’ve moved us out to the boonies.” She jabbed her fingers into her temples. “How in the world did you talk me into this relocation again?”

Hell if he knew.

To Luke, the town of Cactus Creek was just plain special. Offbeat. Indelible. Fun. Kissing cousin to Scottsdale but separated by Black Mountain Summit, the one great divide between city and country, Cactus Creek was a quirky little world of its own, close enough for city folk to escape to and far enough in lifestyle to make the trip worth it. He’d wanted to move Desert Confections here the second he’d stepped foot into town.

Quinn? Not so much. Getting her on board had been a friggin’ miracle, what with moving having been not just a gamble, but utterly unjustifiable. Of course, that little factoid, and all the rational sense he’d been taught in business school, had ceased to be relevant the moment Luke had felt it—the instant, blinding, finding-your-soul mate connection to the town of Cactus Creek.

Had he not been so bowled over by it, there was no way he would’ve pushed the issue; God knew Quinn had enough weighing on her shoulders being a single mom with inhumane medical bills from her son’s terrifying first year of life spent in and out of surgeries. As such, suggesting the move had been a gut-roiling experience for Luke. He’d gone in ready to reluctantly give it all up following the anticipated hell-no response from her…to instead finding himself profoundly humbled when she’d shocked him with a nervously trusting ‘yes.’ Yes to follow him, despite all the reservations she had regarding the town.

That in itself made the decision that much more risky.

Because it meant failure simply wasn’t an option.