The Chocolate Touch (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 8) Page 5

  “Yes.” Smiling, she raised the other piece as if to bring it closer to the overhead lighting. “I know what my next review will be on.”

  York remembered what Dakota had said at the bookstore. That would be big publicity for the shop. He had no idea what Chantelle did for a living other than writing books. “Is writing reviews what you do when you’re not working on a book?”

  “Yes, and I also write articles. I have a monthly column in a food magazine, as well as my own blog. I occasionally freelance.”

  He was the one impressed now. “You should talk to Sage if you have any questions. She makes all the chocolate in the back.”

  “She and her staff makes it,” Chantelle said.

  Walt shook his head. “Just Sage.”

  “Dakota and Portia package products. Rosie helps out occasionally, but the staff mainly works the counter while Sage is in the back,” York added.

  Chantelle tilted her head. “That must be a lot of work for one person.”

  He shrugged. “Sage manages just fine.”

  “I think I will speak with her while I have the chance.” Chantelle stood and started making her way to his sister’s boss.

  Walt watched her go before slyly asking, “Is there a special someone in your life?”

  York almost laughed given what had happened last week in Fiji. He’d gone on the trip with his friend, Adam, who was going to make the military his career. Their goal for the vacation had been to have as much fun as possible with as many pretty ladies as they could.

  He and Adam had also agreed not to exchange contact info with any women they met. Vacation romances had an expiration date. That was the biggest part of their appeal. They’d succeeded until their third day on the island when York had helped a pretty brunette from Seattle when she fell off her paddleboard. Kayla, a nurse, had thanked York before cozying up to Adam—as if he’d been her knight in wet swimming trunks.

  Adam had been attracted to her, so York backed off like any good friend would. But if Kayla had liked him instead, would he have spent every single minute with her like Adam had? Would they be talking about a future after only a few days together?

  York didn’t think so, but he was happy for his friend. He only wished he hadn’t lost his favorite wingman for the rest of the vacation. Still, he’d found various women to keep him company until it was time to leave the tropical paradise.

  “Not in the market for a relationship with all the travel and work I’ll be doing,” York said with relief. Leaving the military, visiting his sisters, and starting a new career that meant traveling ninety percent of the time were endeavors best done on his own. “With so much going on, I’m happy being unattached.”

  Walt wagged his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?

  “Yes.”

  “But you like Chantelle.”

  York stiffened. “What?”

  “I saw the way you looked at her during the tasting.”

  Busted. He’d thought he was being stealthy, but staring wasn’t a crime. “She’s pretty, but I know nothing about her.”

  “You know enough,” Walt said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  York wouldn’t mind talking to her more, or maybe even kissing her, but he wasn’t about to let a man who played matchmaker know that. He needed to put an end to this now. “I was watching her tasting technique.”

  “And thinking what she might taste like.”

  Heat rushed up his neck. “I—”

  “It’s fine,” Walt interrupted with a laugh. “Dakota told me a few things about you. You’ve served your country well. Now it’s time to have fun.”

  If only… “I had fun in Fiji.”

  “Have more fun in Marietta.”

  The older man’s matchmaking efforts with Dakota and Bryce were well known. Walt’s intentions were good. York appreciated how much the man cared about his sister, but their mom was harping enough on him about finding a girlfriend and settling down. He didn’t need the residents of his sister’s small town to do the same thing while he was here.

  “You succeeded in bringing your son and my sister together,” York said with a lighthearted tone. Butting into people’s business was part of life in a place like Marietta, but he was only visiting. “How about you quit while you’re ahead?”

  A knowing gleam filled Walt’s eyes. His smile widened. “Bryce and Dakota would say the same thing, but you and Chantelle look good together.”

  York glanced her way. Her face was animated as she spoke to Sage. He picked up his water glass. “Chantelle is only passing through town. Me, too.”

  “Then you’d better not waste any time.”

  “My sisters—”

  “Are both head over heels in love with their boyfriends. They won’t mind. In fact, they’d probably like to see you with someone.”

  Dakota and Nevada hated when their mom interfered, so they knew better than to do the same with him. York shrugged.

  “Was that a maybe or a yes?” Walt’s smile made him look like a canary-eating cat.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s better than a straight no. Think about it. Her.”

  York forced himself not to look at Chantelle. He didn’t need to give Walt any more evidence that he was attracted to the woman. “You don’t give up.”

  “Losing my wife unexpectedly taught me life is too short not to go for it. Whatever that it may be. Mine happened to be Dakota’s foster dog Scout and foster rat Pierre. Only you know what yours is or will be.”

  York knew his wasn’t this woman. The timing and situation were both wrong despite the attraction.

  Chantelle returned to the table. “Thanks for the company, gentlemen. I’m still on East Coast time and about to start yawning nonstop. I’m going to head back to the hotel.”

  “Alone?” York asked.

  She gathered her paper, purse, and jacket. “Yes.”

  Not on his watch. He stood. “I’ll walk with you.”

  A funny expression—a mix of confusion and surprise—was on her face. A look he knew well. Growing up with two younger sisters was like receiving a PhD in females.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  The two words were full of emotion. He regretted flirting with her because she probably saw this as some sort of come-on or proposition. It wasn’t. His offer had nothing to do with how she looked eating chocolate. This was a better-safe-than-sorry issue.

  “It’s dark,” he said. “You shouldn’t walk alone.”

  “The hotel is only a couple of blocks away, and I did the same walk last night after the book signing.” She sounded annoyed.

  He was used to it. Over the years, his sisters had tried to fight him, too. They’d lost every time. The same way she would. “If I’d known you were walking, I wouldn’t have let you leave on your own then.”

  “Listen to the good captain,” Walt said.

  “Former captain,” York corrected.

  Chantelle’s eyebrows drew together. “Captain?”

  Walt smiled. “York is fresh out of the air force. A real American hero.”

  York rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. He didn’t want anyone making more out of what he’d spent the past decade or so doing. “Former military, yes. Not a hero.”

  Chantelle’s eyes widened. “That’s why you’re between jobs?”

  He nodded, though her surprise made him wonder what she thought he was doing here. Sponging off his sisters, perhaps? “I’m taking the month off.”

  She started to say something but stopped herself.

  “You said you’re tired. Let York escort you to the hotel.” Walt didn’t miss a beat. He spoke in a fatherly tone. Firm, but caring. “I’ll give Dakota a ride to her house, and everyone will get home safe and sound.”

  Chantelle shook her head. “I’m fine. York can walk his sister home.”

  “Thanks, Walt.” York ignored what Chantelle had said. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. This wasn’t up for discussion or negotiation. “I
’d appreciate that.”

  He wasn’t trying to be pushy or sexist. This was something he would do for any woman—one of his sisters or a stranger—because escorting Chantelle back to the hotel was the right thing—the safe thing—to do.

  Even in a small town.

  York motioned toward the door. “After you.”

  He wasn’t doing this to spend more time with Chantelle, but he couldn’t deny wanting a few more minutes in her company without anyone else around.

  Chapter Four

  Outside of Copper Mountain Chocolates, Chantelle glanced to her left where York walked on the side closest to the curb. Her father had always taken that side, saying it was what a gentleman did. What did that say about York? Or the way he’d shortened his stride to match hers? He moved like an athlete—fluid and confident with a touch of swagger.

  She didn’t know what to make of York Parker.

  Hot, yes. Polite, too.

  Old fashioned and over protective, most definitely.

  Some might call him a jerk for going caveman.

  She’d thought the word back inside the shop.

  But now…

  Chantelle didn’t know whether to be charmed by York’s chivalry or annoyed by him not waiting for or listening to her reply about walking her home. Granted, he didn’t know her, so he wouldn’t know that she was the last person who needed rescuing. She could take care of herself and had been for years. She didn’t need an escort or a bodyguard.

  She hadn’t put on her jacket inside, so she shrugged on the first sleeve. York took the jacket and helped her put it on. His hand brushed her neck and sent a burst of chills down her spine. He pulled her hair out from underneath the collar.

  Just a gentleman or more? She couldn’t tell.

  “Nice evening,” he said. “Not too cold.”

  She glanced at him again. “Gorgeous.”

  So not smooth, but he was, so her mind going there wasn’t a stretch. She’d better be more careful around him.

  York smiled at her.

  Chantelle’s mouth went dry. Enough fun for one night. This had to stop. Now.

  “The sky,” she clarified. “The sky is gorgeous.”

  He looked up as if to see what she was talking about. Of course, she hadn’t a clue. Damage control was needed. And self-control.

  Think. Think. Think.

  “There are so many stars,” she said a moment too late, but maybe he hadn’t noticed. She hoped so because she felt like the geeky freshman talking to the star quarterback and making a fool of herself doing it. “Millions of them. In the sky.”

  She was rambling. Something about York—someone she didn’t know, Chantelle reminded herself—made her nervous. She could barely think straight around him.

  He nodded. “Head a mile or so outside of Marietta, and you’ll see more. Little white dots everywhere you look. Much better than where I lived in Maryland. Where are you from?”

  “Boston.”

  “Lots of city lights there.”

  She nodded.

  “You can see lots of stars when you fly.”

  The guy had to notice he was getting to her, but she appreciated him not calling her out on it. “I’ll have to remember that. Must be nice.”

  His gaze rested on her. “Beautiful.”

  He was talking about the sky, not her. At least that was the safe thing to think. But that didn’t stop a fresh round of goose bumps from covering her arms.

  “You should check out the view while you’re here,” he added.

  Was he going to offer to take her to see “the stars?” A weight pressed on her shoulders. She was attracted to him, but she much preferred to think his walking her home was an act of chivalry, not him wanting to hit on her. Chantelle didn’t want to deal with that, so she’d better watch that she wasn’t sending the wrong signals. She probably had.

  York was handsome enough to be a player. He had that clean cut, All-American good looks down. His clothes weren’t fancy, but they were nice and let her know a killer body waited underneath. Yes, he could be a player.

  Although if that were the case, that would make Walt his wingman. No, the older man was too sweet to do that. Unless York worked alone…

  “When I spent time here each summer, my great-uncle would take us a few miles outside town—to where you couldn’t see the lights from Marietta,” York said before she could say anything. “I’d never seen so many stars in my life. Made me want to be an astronaut someday, so I could be closer to those lights and planets.”

  A hint of wonder filled his voice that sent a rush of warmth followed by anticipation through her veins, but then he went quiet. No invitation to drive out of town came. She wasn’t sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or feel a tad disappointed. Not that she wanted him to make a move, but she wouldn’t mind seeing stars like he described.

  Or getting to know more about him.

  His mentioning being an astronaut gave her an easy question to ask. “Were you a pilot in the air force?”

  “No.”

  She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

  Their footsteps sounded on the pavement. The silence wasn’t that uncomfortable. Okay, yes, it was.

  Time to remedy that. “I would have expected more people to be out tonight.”

  “Most places are closed. Only the restaurants and bars stay open past nine.”

  “No wonder I’m tired.” Her body was three hours ahead. “At least the muggers don’t seem to be roaming the streets tonight.”

  “I’ve never heard of muggers in Marietta, but the bad guys usually stay hidden so you can’t see them until it’s too late.”

  She couldn’t tell by his tone if he were joking or serious, but this was better than talking about starry skies and getting goose bumps. “Is that what you learned in the air force?”

  “Nah, TV.”

  That made her smile. “Crime-show addict?”

  “Guilty as charged. You?”

  “End of the world, paranormal, and zombie shows are more my fare.”

  His grin reached his eyes. The result was breathtaking and brought chills again.

  “Wouldn’t have expected that.” His surprised tone matched his words. “Why those shows?”

  She forced herself to breathe, but that was hard to do with his attention focused on her. Maybe a slow breath or two would put the brakes on her sprinting pulse and let her find her voice. She cleared her throat. “This might sound weird.”

  “Nothing wrong with weird.”

  “Watching those shows makes me appreciate my quiet life.”

  “Quiet sounds better than drama filled and being chased by the walking dead.”

  “For sure.” Chantelle avoided drama. Easy to do when she was alone so much. “It’s easier to put any troubles or problems into perspective when you’re not being chased by zombies or fighting to survive the end of an utter devastation,”

  “Now that’s a good point.” He looked ahead. “But we all face that. It’s how we let them get to us, whether they are big or small problems, that’s the real issue.”

  “Yes.” But this subject had turned a little too personal for her liking. Time for a new one. “If you weren’t a pilot, what did you do in the air force?”

  “Computers.”

  “That could mean anything from entering data to flying drones to sitting in one of the underground bunkers waiting to launch missiles and end life as we know it.”

  He laughed. “You weren’t kidding about the shows you watch.”

  York hadn’t answered her question. She gave him a knowing smile. “Top-secret stuff, huh?”

  “How long will you be in town?”

  She wouldn’t let him get away with changing the subject. “Not answering means you’re saying yes to my question.”

  “Feel free to believe that if you’d like, but you’d be wrong.”

  “Would I?”

  He inhaled. “Smells like rain.”

  She knew when to give up,
but she had a feeling the former captain likely did something confidential or secret in his old position. “The weatherman on the radio said sunshine throughout the weekend, and there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “My sisters said Dylan Morgan is wrong ninety percent of the time.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” She wouldn’t mind seeing York all wet. On second thought—

  “You never answered my question about how long you’re staying in town.”

  “A week or so.” She had a return ticket, but she would stay longer if Uncle Laurent wanted her to. “I’ve never been to Montana before, so I wanted to make the most of my visit.”

  “It’s a good place to vacation. I’m here until the end of the month.” He pointed across the street. “There’s your hotel.”

  “That was fast.” She’d been so focused on talking to him that she hadn’t realized they’d turned onto another street.

  “Marietta isn’t that big.”

  “Or dangerous.”

  He peered around her as if to see if anyone was around. “You never know when a zombie might strike.”

  She smiled. Okay, he was more charming than annoying. “Two of us might have a better chance of fending off an attack than one.”

  “Exactly.”

  As they stepped off the curb to cross Front Street, he touched the small of her back. The touch wasn’t intimate; it was more protective.

  Her heart beat faster.

  Though maybe he was just used to acting like a big brother to all women.

  Chantelle stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel. She wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her. She had to admit it felt…good. Even if she didn’t know him.

  She took a breath. “Thanks for walking me back.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stopped near the entrance, turning to face her.

  If he were a player, this was where he would ask if she wanted to get a drink or offer to see her to her room or—

  “Have fun checking out Marietta,” he said. “Be sure to stop by the chocolate shop to get a cup of Sage’s hot chocolate. Dakota calls it a chocolate lover’s ambrosia. The samples at the book signing weren’t big enough. You need a full glass to appreciate its goodness.”

  Her mouth watered. “I will.”