Page 39 of The Jellybean Dilemma

A gif came through. I stared in horror at a lizard licking a Cheerio, over and over and over. What the hell? Of course, Greg chose that moment to come back. I practically threw my phone into my purse as he opened the door and handed me my coffee.

“Sorry that took so long. Peppermint mocha for you.” He handed me a tall cup with a brilliant smile which showed off his adorable dimple.

And all I could think about was a stupid lizard. Dammit, Avery. I had to bite my tongue to stop my laughter.

“You okay?”

It didn’t work. I burst out laughing, ignoring him and grabbing my phone to yell at Avery once more. All the explanation he got was, “Avery needs serious help.”

By the time we arrived at Presque Isle, I had calmed down. It was a scenic drive, the road hugging the shore of Lake Superior and taking us right by the ore docks.

“There’s a park, too, if you keep going. Lots of trails to walk, a little lighthouse.” He shrugged. “Not the best place in the winter, but in the summertime, it’s something.”

Why have I never been up here before? “I’d like to see that,” I said quietly.

“I hope you get to.”

I felt like a batter who’d just swung for a home run, but missed the ball completely, only connecting with air. I could almost hear the whiff. I covered my disappointment with a sip of my coffee. At least that was delicious.

Greg hurried around to escort me to the door, and when I walked in, I knew I’d struck gold. The shops all joined together on the inside, flowing seamlessly into one another. Shelves of pottery were interspersed with mini displays of jewelry, scarves and art. I even noticed a section with soap and lotion. Best of all, everything was handmade.

“Jackpot,” I breathed.

I put my game face on and set about finding someone to do business with. Half an hour later, I had a more than satisfactory price for thirty-five local pieces each of mini art coasters, a handcrafted mug, earrings, the softest scarf I’d ever felt and a small bottle of lotion. Greg carried the boxes out to the car, along with enough business cards for each bag. Plus, we had a lead on the best truffles in town. He came back to help me to the car.

“Good recommendation, Just Greg.” I grinned up at him, ridiculously pleased with our finds.

Once we were on the road to the chocolatier, he asked, “Is this the last stop?”

“Close. I need bags to put all these in. And I’d like a local bottle of wine or cocktail or something like that. Then I think that should be enough.” I rested my elbow on the armrest between us, taking a sip of my still warm coffee before I set it down in the cup holder.

I stared out of the window as we wound along the shores of Lake Superior. Greg moved and his arm rested along the entire length of mine. My mouth twitched as I pretended to ignore him to see what else he would do. A minute later, he shifted again until his fingers dangled over mine. Our hands danced to the movement of the car for several long moments.

I held my breath when he shifted again, and his warm fingers settled over mine. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I gripped him back. My stomach did a quick little flip, and we sat like that for the rest of the quiet ride.

When he steered us into a parking spot in front of a row of shops, I reluctantly let go. He gave me a soft smile before he got out, hurrying around to help me out of the car. It was a relief to touch him again, and I gripped his arm as I stepped onto the sidewalk of downtown Marquette.

A heavenly smell permeated the air, so delicious I almost swooned just breathing it in. “Is that—?”

I turned around, and there was the chocolatier, the word Decadence scrawled across the window in looping white letters. If it smelled this good outside, I could just imagine the inside. Greg must have had the same thought because we hurried in, a jangling bell signaling our entry.

I’d never seen so much chocolate in one place. No matter which way I turned, I was met with a glass case full of it. Turtles, caramels, all sorts of things dipped in it.

“Hello, there.” A friendly, middle-aged woman with curly auburn hair escaping her unruly bun greeted us. “Anything I can help you find?”

“Actually, yes. Are you Midge?” When she nodded, I explained how she’d been recommended to us and what we wanted.

She beamed—her smile as sweet as the desserts surrounding her. “Well, that Terry sure is a dear for thinking of me. You’ll have to do a taste test, of course. This way.” She wove her way over to a counter on the opposite side of the room.

I took a different path than Greg, stopping to gawk at the various confections. This place was a dream come true. I was almost drooling when I finally made it to the counter where Midge set up a line of truffles.

“We have six different flavors—milk, dark, darker, coffee, white and cream.” She leaned in to whisper, “Of course they all have fancy names, but that’s what it boils down to.” The bell jingled as another customer came in. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you have any questions.”

One of each flavor sat on a tray before us, which meant we were once again sharing desserts. She’d thoughtfully poured two glasses of water as well. I picked up the white truffle, biting it in half and moaning almost instantly. “It melts in your mouth. This is phenomenal.” I held the other half out to Greg.

He surprised me by leaning forward to eat it right out of my fingers. His soft lips brushed my skin, sending a delicious rush of heat through me. “Mmm,” he said, smirking as I stared up at him in stunned delight. “Delicious.” Then he picked up the cream one and carefully bit it in half, nodding his approval.

I swallowed in anticipation as he offered me the other half. It was only fair that I got the same treatment, right? I leaned forward, lips parted, stomach flipping. He slid the dessert into my waiting mouth, the pad of his thumb grazing my lower lip.

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