Page 45 of The Sweet Talker
“All set,” I say and shove a mouthful of popcorn into my mouth.
“Perfect time. Here, you stir.” She holds the spoon up for me.
“I think we’ll do peppermint bark for the Bradbury family. It’s one of my biggest selling items this year. I can barely keep it on the shelf.”
I take the wooden spoon from her and for a moment our hands touch, linger, and despite the physical distance she seemed to put between us earlier, neither of us are in a hurry to move.
“Get stirring before it clumps.”
“Right.” I drag my hand from hers, and stir the chocolate as she takes her new phone from her pocket and puts on some Christmas music. I want to tell her about her phone, but what good could come from that now? We’ve been having so much fun, and I don’t want to do anything to ruin that. None of that helps with the guilt lingering in my gut, though.
She hums along to the music as she puts the candy cane between parchment paper and breaks it apart. I continue to stir as she holds a piece of candy out to me. “Open.” I do as she asks, and she places a big piece on my tongue.
“Delicious. Did you make the candy cane, too?”
“Of course, I do. Other than the nuts and some of the packaged candy in the fridge, everything is homemade.”
“You’re a woman of many talents.” She smiles at the compliment and leans over me to check the chocolate.
“Looking good.” She dips a spoon in to taste it. “Almost there.”
“What’s next?”
She runs her hand over a big marble tabletop. “Once that’s melted, I’ll get you to pour the chocolate out onto the table, but you’ll have to work fast. It needs to be smoothed out when it’s still warm.”
“I have a better idea. You’re the chocolatier, how about you work your magic and I’ll watch.” Truthfully, I like learning new things, but it’s more fun watching her. In fact, I would watch this woman all day and night and never be bored.
“That might be best for your first time, and we do want the bark perfect if we’re giving it as a gift.” It’s crazy, but her using the word ‘we’ like we’re a real couple, bringing a joint gift to a party, does the weirdest things to my insides. Good things, like warmth and happiness. Things I never want to stop feeling. She checks the chocolate again. “You better let me in there.”
I hand her the spoon. “It’s all yours.”
I’m all yours.
Those words sit on the tip of my tongue as she pours the chocolate and grabs a spatula, quickly working and smoothing the chocolate like a pro. She hums along, lost in her work and I lean against the counter and admire her as she sways back and forth, and when she discards the bowl, I dip my finger in for a taste.
“Delicious,” I say, thinking about all the fun things we could do with all the warm, gooey chocolate.
“Okay, Brody, go ahead and start sprinkling the candy cane, try to get it even and all over.”
I grab a handful and start sprinkling, and she smooths the chocolate around the candy, our movements in sync. “What a team we are.”
She pokes me with her elbow. “You’re pretty good in the kitchen.”
“I’ve got moves,” I tease.
She chuckles, and I go to reach for more candy, but she stops me. “I think it looks perfect.” Hands on hips, she steps back to admire her handiwork.
“Totally perfect,” I say.
“We have to let this cool before we crack it, and that’s the fun part.”
“I think it was all fun,” I say as she drops a bar of fresh chocolate into the bowl and puts it over the warm water.
She stirs the chocolate and my heart squeezes tight. I know we’re playing house, but dammit, I want more. I want everything with this woman. Never in my life have I felt this way, or allowed myself to. I closed myself off, too afraid of loss and the hurt that comes with it. I’m not sure what’s come over me. Maybe it’s this town, the decorations, the holiday spirit, and the magic of Christmas all combined that makes me want to try out a real relationship with Josie. Heck, maybe it’s none of those things, but it’s simply sweet Josie herself who has faced so much—alone—and her strength has given me the courage to face my own fears of abandonment. I really don’t know the answer to anything anymore, but what I do know is that I want to do better, I want to overcome the past and walk into the future with this incredible woman by my side.
But what does she want?
I touch her hair, brush it from her shoulder and she takes a fast breath. I’d have to be a fool not to realize the effect we have on each other, the chemistry arcing between us, but I get it. She’s had loss, too, but if there is one thing this week taught me, it’s that she does want to live again, but she’s afraid of dishonoring her late husband’s memory. Fate had to have brought us together for a reason, right? Was it so that we could start something new together, and help each other move forward?