Page 9 of Sweet Spot

"Why not? Significant other wouldn't approve?" Yep, I was fishing for information and doing a clumsy job of it. And my out of left field question baffled her.

"Uh, no, I make my own decisions."

That told me nothing. "So you make your own decisions because you're on your own, or you just don't let him tell you what to do?"

She blinked at me in utter confusion. I couldn't blame her. I'd pretty much confused myself.

"Who's him? There's no him. It's just me."

I relaxed back, stunned at how relieved I was to find out there was no him.

She shook her head as if to straighten out the convoluted conversation we'd wound ourselves into. "Mr. England—" she started, and I corrected her to call me Chase. "Right. Anyhow, I just don't have enough hours in the day to get my pastries ready for the cart and make chocolates for your company. I'm sure there are plenty of candy makers who would be happy to take the job. Besides, I work out of my rental house. The kitchen is small. I'm just not equipped to take on a massive project." She reached into her pocket. "I've written down a few names and phone numbers of people you could call. I hope it helps."

She placed the paper on my desk and stood up. I hopped up too, my mind was dashing around, trying to think of some convincing argument.

"What if we sent some of our people to help you make the chocolates?"

"I don't think so. I only just got the business started, and I can't risk it. It's all I have right now. Thank you very much for the offer." She headed to the door.

"Have dinner with me," I blurted.

Macy stopped. Her head dropped and her ponytail fell forward, exposing her long white neck.

She looked back and flashed me a polite smile. "I don't think so."

I hurried around the desk. I had no idea if her rejection was causing me to want this more than anything or if it was still that thing that I just couldn't put my finger on. All I knew was I didn't want her to leave without some reassurance that I'd see her again, other than standing inside her kiosk selling coffee to my neighbors.

I circled around and stepped between her and the door. There was some irritation in her expression, but it was masked by a layer of hurt, something that I hadn't noticed before. Macy had gone through something recently, something ugly.

That realization threw me off for a second. I had no idea why I could read this woman so well. I was never great at figuring out women's thoughts, except when it came to sex. Then I could read them like a book. But I was a fool when it came to understanding them emotionally. But it was different with Macy. Was I just paying more attention than usual?

"Just dinner. How about it?"

Macy shook her head. "You seem very nice, but I'll be honest, I was engaged to a man like you before."

"You mean incredibly handsome and charming?"

She couldn't hold back her smile. "Actually, Trevor was handsome but not compared to you. You're sort of the gold standard on handsome. What I meant was I've had a silver spoon man once before. He was rich and arrogant. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I've been hurt badly and I've grown a tough shell because of it."

"Well, on the charge of being born with a silver spoon, I can contradict you. No silver spoon. More like one of those flimsy plastic sporks they give you in the school lunch. My dad raised my three brothers and me in a two bedroom house where we didn't dare cut the crusts off our sandwiches because that meant throwing away food and we had no food to spare."

"I'm sorry," she sputtered, looking genuinely embarrassed. "I had no idea. It's just you purport yourself like someone who has been rich his whole life."

"Do I? Nicest compliment I've had today. Other than the gold standard on handsome. That one was pretty sweet. The arrogant remark, not so much."

"Sorry, that was poorly worded. My ex was arrogant, but I don't know you well enough to call you that. And I apologize for assuming you'd been born with your wealth. People who have made a lot of money the honest way deserve huge credit. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of baking to do for tomorrow."

Trey came out of his office as I stood in the hallway and watched her leave.

"Is that the chocolate maker?" he asked.

"She's not interested. But she gave me some contacts."

"And you're watching her like a love struck puppy because . . ."

I looked at him. There was no need to lie to him because he always knew what I was thinking. I clapped him on the shoulder. "Because, my friend, I'm feeling like a fucking love struck puppy."

Trey's laughed boomed through the hallway.

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