Page 28 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

Shoot. She wanted—needed—to be away from him.

Before she could reply, he set both hands on either side of the computer. Blew out a breath, maybe of exasperation. As if she were achild. Oh, heavens, save her from arrogant Kelleys, especially the one she used to date.

“This is an unfortunate situation we find ourselves in, and while yes, we are competitors, we’re going to have to tolerate being around each other, at least for the next five weeks. I’d rather we keep things civil. Professional.”

Oh, she’d give him civil. Professional. It was only July in Michigan, but the arctic freeze was beginning early this year. She mustered a fake smile. “If it’s so difficult and unfortunate, I’ve got a solution: you can just give up now.”

He scowled. “Is this a game to you?”

She scowled right back. “Of course not. I gave up my whole life to be here.” And sure, her whole life back in Florida hadn’t amounted to much, but still. She’d moved here for this shop—not to lose everything to a Kelley.

Again.

“Are you sure it isn’t a game toyou? You could do a thousand other things, Declan. Why would you want to come back here and run this fudge shop? Is it just to spite me?”

And maybe her words had landed hard because his mouth opened. Then something sparked in his blue eyes. “Not everything is about you, Lily. This isn’t personal. It’s business.” He paused, glanced up at her before flicking his gaze back to the counter. “Family business.”

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Because it always came back to that, didn’t it? Family loyalty over everything else.

Not that she was against family loyalty. It was a big reason she was here too, the reason she’d left Jonathon Island in the first place…eager to go away so she could learn all there was to learn about making fudge, so she could one day return and make Hart Family Fudge the best on the island.

And she had learned. She’d learned so many little techniques to improve her candy making, tricks that expanded her knowledge, gave her a wider perspective on best practices.

There was just the pesky part about running an actual business that had managed to escape her. But she was older now. Wiser. Knew that she couldn’t totally ignore the business side of things.

Especially if Declan—Mr. CEO himself—was her competitor.

Huffing, Lily rounded her shoulders and stalked to the supply shelf in the corner of the lobby, lined with boxes, ribbons, sea salt, caramel, sugar, and several other ingredients for easy grabbing by employees who would cook in the copper kettles and use the marble tables to demonstrate fudge making for passersby. The kitchen was also lined with pots and extra tables for those times when they wanted privacy for their creations.

She ran her fingers along the rim of one of the copper kettles, one her mom had used countless times. So many memories.

And if she had to play nice in order to hold on to them, then so be it.

“Fine,” she ground out between her teeth.

“What’s that?”

She turned, found him watching her. “I said fine. We can order supplies together. Or whatever.”

Declan nodded, no indication of what he was thinking as he pulled a notebook and pen from his briefcase. “Have you already placed your order for baking supplies?”

She didn’t want to answer him. It felt like sharing insider knowledge. How would she keep her recipes secret if he knew what she was ordering?

He tapped his pen. “You have to order supplies.”

“Seriously? Give me a whole second to make a list.” Which probably started with a plan of what she might be making, right? “My mom has some supplies left from her catering. I was going to start with those and then see what I needed.”

“I’m guessing it’ll go quickly, yeah? What with the way you like to experiment.” He froze, frowned, cleared his throat. “I mean, the way you used to.”

Oh, look who was flustered. But before she could come up with a reply, he shook his head and added, “Anyway, with the drop in tourism right now, I think we should target about one-third of full weekly production, so I’ll adjust the order accordingly.” He punched something into his phone and turned it to face her. “Here’s my estimate of what you’ll save if you’re buying the same basic ingredients I am for about eight to ten batches of fudge per day.”

She had to walk closer to read the screen. His calculator app was open and revealed a number higher than she’d expected. “Fine.”

“Fine, you’ll give me your order?”

Dropping into a squat, Lily fished in her backpack and pulled out several loose pieces of paper. To-do list. Grocery list. A sort of fudge shop supply list.

“Here.” She stood and thrust the list in his direction. “Wait—” She pulled it back and tore off the bottom section. The part that had her next-level, top-secret, epicurean delight ingredients. She shoved the torn end into the small pocket on her leather leggings and handed the rest of the list back to him.

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