Page 19 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

He turned back and just barely dodged a metal bowl flying at him like a frisbee. “Stop!” His aviators went flying.

She stepped up to him, now holding a rolling pin and this was just—enough! He snagged her wrist. “Calm down!”

“Let go of me—” The woman tugged at him. “Help!” she screamed. “Help!”

Screaming? “Come on. I’m not going to hurt you!”

But apparently she might hurt him. She’d managed to pick up a wooden fudge paddle?—

Nowthatwould hurt. He grabbed her hard to himself, trying to wrench it free. In the struggle, she’d tangled herself against him, between the door and the storage rack.

“Seriously!” he said. “Listen, you’re the intruder here?—!”

“Let me go!”

That voice—he stilled, and she wrenched herself away.

Rounded on him, breathing hard. Their eyes met.

Oh no.

She may as well have whacked him in the head with the fudge paddle.

“Lily.” Her name, foreign on his lips, rushed out in a whisper.

Lily Hart. She wore her pale blonde hair down, lavender streaks framing her face.

Ten years older and still pretty, despite the fury in her electric blue eyes. She wore a slate blue T-shirt that nearly matched her eyes and leather leggings, and he definitely did not notice that, um, his high school flame hadgrown up.

Maybe she thought the same thing because her mouth opened. Closed. Then, “What areyoudoing here?”

That was a loaded question, since she was inhisfudge shop. He’d come straight over from the emergency meeting Mom had called, where the town council—all save the mayor, Seb Jonathon, who was on an anniversary cruise with his wife—voted unanimously to let him lease the fudge shop property.

In all his years of business, a transaction had never gone more smoothly. And it had lit a fire in him that, yes, maybe this wouldn’t take as long as he’d thought. He’d get in, set up a profitable fudge shop model, hire a team to run it, and be back in Chicago in a week, maybe two tops.

He’d signed the paperwork Patrick had drawn up and paid his dollar to secure Grandma’s house, which Mom had indeed convinced the county to gift to the town, with the express agreement in writing that it be used as incentive for whoever operated the fudge shop on Main Street.

Declan held up his hands and pasted what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face. “I’m here because I drove back to the island yesterday.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re in this shop, Slick.” Her gaze went to the sunglasses he’d scooped off the floor. “How did you even get in?” Lily squeezed past him and walked down the hallway and toward the front door. She tested the handle and muttered to herself when it opened. What, did she think he’d broken in or something?

“It wasn’t locked.” Which was a good thing, because otherwise he’d have had to wait until Seb returned from his vacation so he could make him a copy. “And wait a minute.” Declan’s brain, finally, started firing on all synapses. He moved to the door, shut it, and whirled on Lily, who backed up against the display case. “Why areyouhere? Aren’t you supposed to be in Florida? Far away from here?”

She cocked her head at him. “Aw, are you keeping track of me now, Decky?”

He scowled. She knew he hated to be called that. “It’s a small island. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

She tapped her chin. “And yet, I know nothing about whereyou’vebeen and whatyou’vebeen doing.”

He might have opened his mouth to tell her, but she held up her hand. “Nope. Don’t wanna know. Just leave.” She pointed to the door, then headed toward the swinging kitchen door.

“I…wait.”

His voice stopped her at the door.

“Listen.” She held the door open. “I don’t want to hear about yourbig life. Because guess what? I. Don’t. Care. The only thing I care about is getting my fudge shop back up and running, which means getting back to cleaning and organizing it. So bye, Slick.”

Then she banged through the door before he could say another word.

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