Brownies & Betrayal (Sweet Bites Mysteries, Book 1) (22 page)

“And what kind of drinks will you offer?” Lidia ran her fingers over the existing order counter.

“I’m bringing in a cappuccino machine, and I’ll have a cooler with sodas and milk. I’m also replacing that hideous counter with a display case for cupcakes and cookies.” I’d considered Italian sodas as well, but that wasn’t high on my priority list.

“Good call.” She turned to me, smiling. “Looks like you know what you’re doing. I’m sure it’ll be a success.”

“I hope so.” We exited through the kitchen again and I locked up. “Have a good evening.” We waved goodbye before I headed up the stairs to my apartment.

I had been home only ten minutes when Bronson knocked on my door. I knew it was him before I even lifted my attention from the photo album. He always does the same thing when he knocks on my door—the old ‘shave and a haircut—two bits’ routine. It was engraved in his personality. Funny how charming I’d found it only a few weeks earlier.

My eyes closed as I considered whether or not I wanted to answer. If I did, he would be in my face again about returning to Chicago, or freaked out that I’d been gone most of the day. I hadn’t forgiven him for his bull-headed, testosterone-driven attitude earlier. At the same time, he’d been unusually considerate of late. The question was how long the penitence would last before he was back in Karen’s arms. The thought made me grimace. Why was I torturing myself with the image of them wrapped up together in his office?

“Tess, your car’s here, so I know you’re in there. If you don’t respond so I know you’re all right, I’m going to get the police to break down this door.”

I was still tempted to ignore him, but decided it would cause more hassle in the long run. Instead of standing, however, I called out, “I’m here. I’m fine. Go away.”

“I have something for you. Can you open the door?” His voice was muffled, but the words were clear.

Though I thought—for about two seconds—about calling the police and asking to have him removed from my doorstep, I stood and set the photo album on the coffee table. Then I walked over, setting my foot in front of the door so it would only open a few inches, even if he tried to force it further.

I was greeted by a huge bouquet of wild flowers, something that sent my irritation into a quiver between melting and rising in force. He’d given me roses on many occasions, but mixed flowers, never. I had a soft spot for lots of color and texture in my bouquets. Had he been talking to Honey, or did he suddenly get much, much better at this romancing thing?

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good bundle of roses as much as the next gal, but there are times when I’d like the guy to think outside the box, and he never had. Until now. Sort of. After all, if he’d really wanted to get back into my good graces, he would have given me a second stand mixer for the business. That kind of thinking was beyond him, though, and probably a bit unrealistic, darn it.

“They’re lovely,” I said, though I crossed my arms over my chest instead of taking them. The insanity that had come over me when I saw the petals had already fled. He couldn’t seriously think he could buy me off with a bunch of flowers.

He nudged on the door, but it hit my foot and stopped. He lifted his brows in surprise. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” Casual charm lit his face, a look that usually got him everything he wanted. Not today.

“No. Is there a reason I should? And shouldn’t you be returning to Chicago? Don’t you have a hotel to run?”

His face darkened for a moment, then he paused, as if considering what to say next. He blurted out, “I’ll fire Karen.”

That was intriguing. I’d like to see it happen even if I didn’t work for him again. She may have been a good financial manager, but she made the entire kitchen staff miserable, which was bound to cause huge turnover—never a good thing in a restaurant with such a high reputation. It would be good for morale if he found a replacement. “Keep talking.”

He gulped. “I’ll give you Karen’s job if you come back.”

What a change from saying I was incapable of managerial-type duties. Still, I wasn’t interested. “I don’t want Karen’s job, even though I’d like to see her gone, as would most of the kitchen staff. But you’ve always known how much I disliked her. Tell me, did you sleep with her?” I knew he’d deny it, and I had no intention of believing him, but I had to ask. I’d be able to see the truth in his face.

His eyes went wild, freaked out. Guilty. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. We were friends. I swear, we only kissed once or twice.”

I doubted that. Highly. Especially considering Karen’s words. Of course, she may have exaggerated to upset me, but I still wasn’t ready to take any chances. The fact that he’d gotten involved with her at all was what mattered. “You’re lying.”

“No, it’s true. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He took my free hand and gave me a look of desperation. “You’re the only woman for me.”

“Oh? What happened to ‘It’s one of those things that happens before the wedding’? I still can’t believe you said that.” It was a good thing I could hear the phrase resonating in my mind; his charm had always managed to soften my anger or frustration in the past.

“It was a mistake. All of it, from beginning to end, but I promise, I never cheated on you before, and I won’t do it again. You have my word.”

This was getting redundant, so I decided it was time I got back to something productive. “Are you going to keep playing this broken record? Your word isn’t worth much.”

He reached down and lifted a large plastic bag with foam takeout containers in it. “Would you have dinner with me?”

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked. Now it was coming together—flowers, a romantic dinner. He thought he’d break me down, make me reconsider.

 He rubbed his thumb over the hand he still held—why hadn’t I snatched it back? I couldn’t remember. “Come on. I promise not to push. We used to have great conversations.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, brushed his lips across my fingers, his eyes focused on my face, intense. He was really very good at this move. Always had been. “We could do that again, start over.”

I felt the edge of a sigh. You know, the sigh you get when a gorgeous man romances you and you want to give in, even if you know it’s a mistake? I pulled my hand away instead. “We’re never going to be able to be friends again, Bronson.”

He looked sad. “I brought Italian from a restaurant on the interstate. It’s supposed to be great, and I know how you love Italian.”

That almost tempted me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I wish you’d give me a chance to make it up to you, Tess. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I felt a literal pain in my chest. It was too bad he didn’t figure that out sooner—like before he even considered looking twice at Karen. Still, I managed to control myself and not say it. “Of course I am.” I allowed my lips to curve.

“At least eat what I brought you, even if you won’t eat with me.” He set down the flowers and pulled out a big carton, and a smaller one. “I’ll leave you the tiramisu as well.”

I took the food and watched him pick up the flowers and bag with his meal to walk away.

Before I shut the door, I asked him, needing to know. “Would you really get rid of Karen if I asked?”

His gaze caught mine and his response was sincere. “Yes. I’ll do anything you want. I know I screwed up big time, Tess, but I love you and I want you back. It’s not too late to forget this whole business—you know it was an impulsive move, and you’d hate to realize in six months that you made a mistake. Please give it some thought.” And he leaned in to kiss me. I stepped out of his reach.

When he backed away, I ignored the disappointment in his eyes and shut the door between us.

I was still trying to figure him out when I drifted off to sleep an hour later.

I woke confused about all things Bronson, my feelings further complicated by dream-memories of good times with him. If he was willing to make changes, to try to be different, shouldn’t I give him the chance? We had so much history, and I didn’t want to jump into my life here without being sure the old one was unrecoverable.

But I loved this small town—even if it was irritating sometimes that I couldn’t buy what I wanted around the corner. I’d already ordered and received new equipment, picked up my business license, got all the balls rolling. Could I walk away from this?

I decided to clear my mind. I needed to be certain, very certain, of my choice in a way I hadn’t been when I impulsively told him I was starting the business here, staying forever. I couldn’t go into this with doubts or it would never succeed.

After walking down the length of Main Street, I ended up at the little gift shop across from mine. The bell on the door rang, tinny, small and not nearly as obnoxious as my own. I’d have to consider getting a different one.

“Hello, Marge, how are you doing today?” I asked as I approached the old proprietor who had been one of my grandmother’s best friends for decades. I had seen her around town and stopped to chat with her on the sidewalk the previous week, but I hadn’t been into her store in several years.

“Glad you made it in,” she said, giving me a warm hug. The wrinkles in her face seemed to multiply when she smiled, even though the vivacity of it made me think she couldn’t be as old as I knew her to be. “Looks like you’ve been having some trouble over there. Are you going to clean that window off or not?”

I laughed. “Yes. I’ll do that. I was a little busy yesterday, but it’s first on my list today, when I finish chatting with you.” I took the chair she indicated and settled in for a gab session.

“It sure is nice that you’re back here again, opening your grandma’s old restaurant, even if you are doing something different with it,” she said. “We need businesses on Main Street to keep people shopping in town. I often saw pictures of your cakes; you have real talent.” Her nose was a bit beaky, her eyes bright, though tiny in her wrinkled face. It would have been an imposing or scary face, if she hadn’t had the sweetest smile in all of the Southwest and used it often.

“It’s a big job, but I’m excited. I’ve wanted to be in charge of my own life, and here’s my chance.” Now if I could be sure I’d made the right choice.

Marge laughed, a sound like gravel rubbing together. “You say that now, but running your own business is more like it owning
you
than the other way around. You’ll end up working far more hours than before.”

I doubted I’d be that busy in a town like Silver Springs, but with taxes and the books, she could be right. “That’s a fact. Paperwork alone is making my head spin.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine with that, and if you love your work, it won’t matter how many hours you put in. Starting my own business was the best thing I ever did, even if it meant that I had real tight times when I wasn’t sure if I would weather the storm.” She pulled out the tin of cookies she’d always hidden behind the counter for as long as I remembered, and offered me one.

“Thanks. I could use that reassurance.” I picked out a small chocolate chip cookie. “So how are things going here?” I looked around, taking in the change of merchandise, noticing the displays.

“New products, fancy faddish things out all the time, but they sell well,” Marge said.

My eyes caught a black circle poking out of one wall near the ceiling. “Is that a camera?” I looked up and verified the video camera would catch my every move.

“Sure is. Theft around here has increased. No one seems to have any respect for other people’s property. I’ve been meaning to come over there and talk to you about that, in fact. You see that camera?” She pointed to one that took in the front displays, including the windows that faced the street.

“Yeah. Catch a few shop-lifters with it?”

“Not yet, but someday.” She clicked the mouse on her computer and a screen with four video images popped up. “I’ve got the whole shop covered.”

I looked at the screen and noticed how the cameras canvassed the small shop from counter to displays. I paused, stared at the square that covered the front window. I could see my own store. “Could I check your recording from a couple nights ago? The person who painted my window might be on it.”