Smittened (10 page)

A feminine laugh startled her. “Oh, I could like you,” the third member of their party said.

Mikey’s cheeks went a tad pink. “Dahlia, meet Mari Belle.”

Mari Belle
. Will’s sister.

Dahlia had heard a good bit about Mari Belle this week too.

She was pretty—perfect makeup, perfect golden brown hair, perfect way of using her hazel eyes to make a simple Bliss girl feel as though she’d been sized up. Dahlia shook her hand as well. “Nice to meet you,” Dahlia said.

“Likewise.”

Her Southern accent was less pronounced, her words more polished than the guys’. But suddenly Dahlia was thinking about Mikey’s old tales of Mari Belle keeping him and Will in line, memories of all the things the three of them had done together.

She’d been his first crush, he’d admitted.

What he hadn’t said was that she still was, or that she’d be here tonight. In Bliss. In Dahlia’s ice cream shop.

Mikey had his hand at the small of Mari Belle’s back, his body angled so he was closer to her than he was to Will, and he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but his gaze kept flicking back and forth between Dahlia and Mari Belle.

Not Dahlia and Will, his best buddy.

Dahlia and his best buddy’s big sister.

A chill touched the pit of Dahlia’s stomach. She turned to Will. “How lovely to have a visit from family while you’re here.”

“That’s what she tells me,” Will said with a wink. But there was a grimace lurking in there too, as though it wasn’t the treat it was supposed to be.

“Do you have brothers?” Mari Belle asked Dahlia.

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter how old they get, they still need watching after.” Mari Belle’s smile was pleasant, her expression warming, but Mikey had spilled a few other details about Will’s private life this week, and more than once Mikey had mentioned that Mari Belle would be more dangerous than a tornado if she decided to do something herself about knocking some sense into her brother. So it was no surprise that both she and Will looked a little tense.

But it didn’t explain Mikey being so high-strung.

He hadn’t even made a joke about anyone sampling Sin on a Stick.

“Ice cream?” Dahlia said. She held on to her smile, but frost was spreading through her midsection. “You can pick and choose, or I can set you up with a tray of one of each.”

“Ice cream would be right good, sweet pea,” Mikey said. He nudged Mari Belle. “Ain’t had real pleasure in your mouth until you’ve had Dahlia’s Sexual Favors.”

Will ducked his head and coughed. Mari Belle’s eyes bulged.

Dahlia’s skin erupted in mortification. “The ice cream flavor,” she said quickly. She pointed to the menu. “The Peachy Passion is really good too, though Mikey’s probably not getting any tonight.”

Mikey flashed an almost normal grin at her. “Any…?”

“
Any
,” she said, with the right emphasis for him to take that every way he and his dirty mind possibly could.

She snagged two full trays of samples and passed them across the counter to Will and Mari Belle with a bright smile and an “Enjoy!” then dug out a Sin on a Stick and shoved it at Mikey. “And here’s your phallisicle.”

He looked down at the chocolate-covered banana treat.

Then back at Dahlia.

Then the slow grin started, the one that began with the right corner of his mouth going up, then traveled across his lips until the left corner joined in. His lips parted, adding some tooth to the smile. “Looks delicious, sweet pea,” he said.

And then in a blink, he leaned across the counter, slanted that smile over her mouth, and kissed the ever-loving ducks out of her.

Right there in her ice cream shop, full-on with tongue, his hands tangled in her hair and his thumbs brushing her supersensitive ears. While people around them tasted Chocolate Orgasm and Sexual Favors, and then whistled and cheered.

It wasn’t until he broke the kiss that she realized she’d dropped the Sin on a Stick and was clutching the lapels of his jacket.

“But not as delicious as that,” he said with a wicked Mikey grin. He picked up the chocolate-coated, marshmallow ice cream–stuffed banana and saluted her with it, then shot a glance at Mari Belle.

The frost that had melted in Dahlia’s midsection solidified into ice.

He didn’t need money from her. He didn’t need a lifetime supply of ice cream. He didn’t need her connections at the shelter.

He needed her to make Mari Belle jealous.

“Smile for the interwebs, Mikey,” Will said. He and Mikey turned in sync, their backs to her, and Will held up his phone. “You too, Miss Dahlia,” Will drawled.

Holy
ducks
. She smiled automatically, watching herself on the screen between the latest man to dangle her heart over a cliff and the superstar who was saving her shop.

She watched her round cheeks that spoke of too much sampling of the ice cream, her glasses, her eyes too big and wide, her lipstick smeared off.

Will snapped the photo, then murmured something to Mari Belle.

Mari Belle, the utter picture of put-together Southern perfection. And not, according to Mikey, because she lived off her brother’s coattails, but because she had a solid job and a life and had made something of herself all on her own.

No wonder Mikey loved her.

Mari Belle drifted into the crowd, getting a few curious glances while her brother charmed Dahlia’s guests. Will sampled her ice cream, gesturing to it while he smiled, Mikey by his side diffusing some of the attention and being his own confident, smooth, but undeservedly overlooked self.

And while Mikey and Will made the rounds, Dahlia kept serving samples and taking orders for take-home containers and answering that yes, the risqué flavors would be available off the secret adults-only menu all winter long.

Tonight’s tasting was everything she’d needed it to be. On a professional level.

“You make all your own recipes?” Mari Belle asked, suddenly next to the counter again. She had finished her samples.

“Some were my aunt’s that I modified, but others are completely original.” Dahlia forced another smile. It wasn’t Mari Belle’s fault—exactly—that Mikey had been in love with her since the dawn of time.

“This Chocolate Orgasm is the best chocolate ice cream I’ve ever had.”

“Mikey helped with that one,” Dahlia heard herself say.

Mari Belle laughed, a light, pretty sound. “I sense his influence in the Hazel’s Nuts.”

Dahlia nodded, even though her heart was getting heavier and heavier. “Completely his idea.”

“Classic Mikey,” Mari Belle said on a chuckle.

“Dirty old man in training.”

“If you think he’s bad now, you should’ve known him when he was fifteen.” She cast an affectionate smile in the men’s direction. “He’s a good guy underneath it all.”

“He is,” Dahlia agreed softly. “And he doesn’t know it.”

Mari Belle turned a sweet smile Dahlia’s way. “I’m glad
something
good has come of their being here.”

As if Dahlia was the
good
. But Dahlia didn’t feel good. She felt insignificant and frumpy beside Mari Belle.

“They won’t stay much longer,” Mari Belle said, which echoed what Mikey had told Dahlia earlier. Bliss had been pretty understanding of Will’s presence, but people were snapping pictures. And if Will had posted his own selfie, there was a very good chance The Milked Duck would soon be overrun.

Which was sort of exactly the point.

As if on cue, Will glanced their way and gave Mari Belle a nod.

Mikey glanced their way too and winked at Dahlia.

“We’re going to need one of every flavor to go,” Mari Belle said. She slid a hundred dollar bill onto the counter. “And don’t argue about keeping the change.”

“But I—”

Mari Belle held a finger to her lips and pinned Dahlia with a commanding kind of look that could’ve made a three-year-old snap to attention and salute. Dahlia swallowed the rest of her argument. “I’ll get a bag,” she corrected herself.

When she got back to the counter with the to-go bag, Mikey and Will had made it back. They both grinned at her, and Will peeked inside. “You’re a peach, Miss Dahlia. Don’t suppose I might could talk you into a carton of S’mores ice cream to go too? One of my favorites right there.”

It was Lindsey’s favorite flavor, Dahlia knew. And by the way Mari Belle’s placid expression wavered toward frustration, and the way Mikey rubbed his eyes, they suspected as much too.

Dahlia kept a straight face—or tried to, anyway—and sent one of her helpers to the back to fetch it. “Anything else?”

“Depends. You ship? Danged good ice cream. Might could use some of that on the road this summer.”

The Milked Duck, official ice cream supplier for Billy Brenton’s
Hitched
tour. Dahlia gulped back a squeal. “Absolutely.” A little dry ice, some overnight shipping, and they’d be golden.

Will flashed her a smile that was killer in its own right. “Add in some of them cupcakes from the bakery around the corner, and I’m thinking Bliss has everything a man needs. Ain’t that right, Mikey?”

“Can’t go wrong here,” Mikey agreed. But his gaze slid to Mari Belle before landing on Dahlia, and her poor frosted heart cramped.

Dahlia’s helper reappeared with the S’mores ice cream, and Dahlia put it in the bag. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said. To her utter mortification, she felt tears welling in her eyes. Mikey and Will—they’d boosted her ticket sales for tonight and probably her ice cream sales for the rest of the winter. Two superstars helping little old her.

Will reached across the counter and grabbed her in a hug. “Know a little about hard times, darlin’,” he said. “Besides, ain’t every day I get to help out a girl who’s got ol’ Mikey so smittened. Never thought I’d live to see the day.” He pressed a friendly kiss to her cheek, his whiskers tickling, then let her go. “Thanks for a nice evenin’, Miss Dahlia.” He tipped his hat. Mikey grinned at her again and grabbed the ice cream bag, and Mari Belle smiled too. “Nice to meet you, Dahlia. Hope we’ll see you again.”

The three of them headed out of The Milked Duck, Mikey saying something to Mari Belle that made her laugh, and Dahlia’s whole heart collapsed in on herself.

They had probably saved her shop.

But she’d discovered there
was
something that meant more to her than The Milked Duck. Something she cared about as much—maybe even more—than her pets.

And even though she’d thought he could be hers, she was wrong.

He pushed the door open with his back, smiled at Mari Belle when she passed by, made what was undoubtedly a crude joke to Will, and then the door swung shut behind them and they disappeared into the chilly evening.

And even though she was inside in the warm, lit room, she felt as though her soul had gone somewhere darker and colder than even an Illinois winter night.
 

Chapter Seven

WHEN DAHLIA didn’t answer her cell phone for the third time, Mikey turned from pacing her empty living room and grabbed his coat. He would help her clean up, chase out the last of her customers, and then see if she’d give him a private tour of The Milked Duck’s kitchen.

And by
private tour
, he meant
naked ice cream tasting tour
.

Before he made it to the front door, it opened, and Dahlia came in. She looked as though she’d gone wrestling with a wild hog in a pit filled with ice cream, and she was still a darned pretty sight. “Hey, there, sweet pea. Good night?”

Her bright blue eyes were dull and sad, and when he approached her for a hug, her shoulders bunched up and she stepped away. “Yeah,” she said shortly. “Thank you.”

He blinked.

He hadn’t ever been the sharpest arrow in the set when it came to women, but he was plenty good at knowing how it felt to be used.

But this was
Dahlia
.

She hadn’t—she wouldn’t have—would she?

“What’s up, sweet pea?” he said.

She lifted her face so she was looking him right in the eye. “You knew Mari Belle was coming tonight.”

Some
uh-oh
filtered into his brain, followed quickly by the normal dread inspired by a jealous woman. “Uh, yeah.”

“She’s nice,” Dahlia said.

“Yeah,” Mikey said again. Because even a dummy like him knew better than to put many more syllables into his answers right about now.

“You didn’t mention that you’re still in love with her.”

Mikey’s jaw hit his chest. “I—you—we—”

I’m not
was all he had to say. He wasn’t in love with Mari Belle anymore. He had Dahlia now, and she liked him back, and that was that.

Except he apparently didn’t have Dahlia.

And his denial was stuck somewhere below his throat and above his heart, choking him in a place he couldn’t scratch.

“Did it work?” Dahlia said. Her voice wobbled. “Did you make her jealous?”

“I wasn’t—she didn’t—
Dammit
, Dahlia, stop it.”