Page 63 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

The man withdrew a sample and lifted it to his nose, as he had every other sample. His brow lifted and he turned it, likewise, studying the texture, as he’d done with Declan’s.

From here, it appeared to be the green fudge. “Oh no.”

“What?”

She touched the glass. “That’s the dill pickle fudge. It’s a really yummy blend, but it does take a certain adventurous spirit to enjoy it. Oh, maybe I should have told him to start with the caramel one. But I wanted to stand out.”

“That’ll stand out, all right.”

She elbowed him, and he grunted out a laugh. “Come on, Lil. If he doesn’t like that one, he’ll love the rest, and he can chalk it up to individual taste. We’ll make sure of that.”

We.

Like they were on the same team instead of…

Oh, her heart. So manywhat ifs. Things she couldn’t think about right now.

After considering the fudge for longer than Lily liked, Mr. Mercer finally took a bite. Made a face. Took a long draw of coffee. Made a note on his notepad, shaking his head, and then reached for what looked like the bergamot. To anyone else, it looked like plain fudge, but Lily knew Mr. Mercer’s world was about to change.

She grabbed onto Declan’s sleeve and hopped on her toes. “Here goes…”

His chuckle went straight to her heart, but instead of looking up—and inevitably getting lost in his crystal blue eyes—she kept her gaze trained on Mr. Mercer, who bit into the fudge.

And stilled.

“Why is he not chewing?” Lily whispered.

“I’m sure he’s just letting it melt in his mouth.”

Mr. Mercer lifted a napkin to his lips, covering his mouth. Lily watched in horror as the man politely and ever-so-discreetly spat the fudge into the napkin and deftly wrapped it into a wad before grabbing his coffee.

“Good grief, does he have to chug it?” Lily’s hand dropped, making a fist at her side.

“What?”

“His coffee.” Lily pressed a hand to her forehead. “This is awful.”

“What?”

Lily covered her face, leaving room between her fingers to watch the horror unfolding before them. “He just spit it out.”

“He did not.”

Except, even Declan couldn’t deny what was so very clearly visible to Lily. Mr. Mercer stood, then looked around before dropping the wadded-up napkin along with Declan’s empty box into the nearby trash can. Replacing the lid on Lily’s box, he straightened the collar of his shirt and walked toward the front door, but not before taking another long drink of coffee.

Lily scurried away from the window and toward the counter. Declan smoothly did the same, much less panic in his movement. His hand found hers, wrapping her with the kind of comfort she wanted to wholly cling to, despite every good sense that she shouldn’t.

The door opened behind them, and they turned to face Mr. Mercer as he walked in. “Thank you for letting me taste that very…interesting combination of flavors, both of you.”

Lily pasted a smile on. “Of course. So happy you enjoyed them.”

Mr. Mercer set Lily’s box on the counter. “Would you mind if I used your restroom before we proceed with the interview?”

“Of course not.” Declan flashed Lily a look of sympathy. “It’s just down the hall. I’ll show you the way.”

When they were gone, Lily turned and opened the box. There sat the half-eaten slices as well as the two undisturbed pieces of fudge—he hadn’t even bothered to try the caramel or lavender, probably because he’d hated the first two so much. She understood he might not be a fan of the pickle, but the bergamot? Comeon!

Maybe, well, it was possible something had gone wrong with the batch. She rarely tried her creations once she got the recipe down. She never needed to. But perhaps her ego had been her downfall.

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