Chapter 16
16
I slammed the bakery door closed behind me and sprinted across the cobblestones, almost getting hit in the process by Mr. Reardon in his beat-up Ford pickup. He shouted and waved out of his open window, the sounds of Randy Travis playing from within. I mumbled an apology I didn’t mean and kept running. Almost getting flattened by Mr. Reardon was enough to calm me down a little, and I only used half my strength to shove The Sweet Shoppe’s front door open.
It was still enough force to make it bounce off the wall with a satisfying bang and cause every eye in the packed store to turn and stare at me.
Including Connor MacDowell himself. He was standing behind the counter, with Gracie behind the fancy coffee machine, her mouth formed into a wordless O of surprise at my arrival.
“Well, good afternoon, Ms. Bell,” Connor’s voice rang out over the now quiet storefront. “What can I do for you? It’s a little chilly to be outside without a jacket, isn’t it?”
Hands clenched into tight fists, I marched over to his counter while the people in the room parted like the Red Sea before me. “Oh, I’m plenty hot. We need to talk!”
“Seems we need to do that a lot, you and me.” He gestured around the room. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a packed house, I’m afraid.”
“Ha!” I shouted. “Didn’t stop you from storming into my place last week and making a fool of yourself, did it?”
The man had the gall to chuckle at that. “Is that what you’re doing here, then? You want to return the favor and make a fool of yourself?”
I paused at that, unsure of my next move. He must have thought I was done fighting because he turned and smiled at Mrs. Harrison, one of my former best customers. Who refused to meet my eyes at the moment, her smile wavering and nervous. “Now, what can I get for you, ma’am? Would you like to sample my latest creation?”
“Oh, laying it on thick, aren’t you?” I demanded.
Once again, the room went silent.
Connor arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
From somewhere behind him, I heard Angus growl.
“Don’t pretend to be all Mr. Nicey-Pants with them and be all Mr. Jerkface with me! You know what you’ve been doing!”
Connor threw back his head and laughed. “Mr. Nicey-Pants and Mr. Jerkface? Lass, you need to learn to color up your language if you’re gonna take on a Scotsman. Get some grit.”
At that, several customers snickered.
“Oh, yeah?” I said, feeling myself getting all worked up again. “You want me to get some grit? Well, how’s this for toughening up?” I reached down, snatched a mound of chocolate mint ice cream from a stunned customer’s bowl, and threw it at Connor—hitting him square in the forehead with a satisfying and explosive splat .
I heard the gasps around me, but I was so mortified by what I’d done, I had to grab onto a nearby table to keep from fainting. My rage left me in a rush of regret and horror. Where had that come from?
Connor slowly swiped his fingers over his face, his gaze never leaving mine as he flung the ice cream away. Fire danced in his eyes, and I took a step backward. “Oh, no,” he intoned, his voice low. “You don’t get to do that and then run away, lass.”
“You deserved it!” I said, standing on my tiptoes and pointing at him, as though that would prove I was in the right. Why then did my anger fail me and my reason for being here suddenly seem empty and flat? I needed to get out. I’d made more than enough of a fool of myself, thank you.
Connor laughed. “How did I deserve mint chocolate chip ice cream in the face?”
“Not only did you poach my employee from me,” I didn’t look at Gracie who’d ducked behind the counter, “but you had Junie Blair cancel her order with me! I’ve already made the two hundred cookies!” I grit my teeth, trying to keep my eyes from filling with sudden tears as I blinked them back. No way would I cry in front of him! “And now I’m out all that time and effort and… and…”
His eyebrows went up in apparent surprise, but then he waved a finger at me. “Now, let’s get one thing straight, Ivy Bell,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm for a man who still had tendrils of green ice cream dripping off his head. “I didn’t poach anyone. Your employee came to me and asked for a job.”
Okay, so she had said she had seen his ad in the paper, so that much was probably true. But sophistry wasn’t going to help him here, because if he hadn’t opened his stupid little candy store and stolen my business, she wouldn’t have gone looking for another job. I lifted my chin in the air. Logic aside, there was no backing down now. “ And you refuse to abide by the rules of the town. I told you I already had a coffee station. There can be only one—”
Connor let out a bark of laughter so loud, I almost jumped two feet in the air.
“You’re actually gonna come at me with the whole, ‘There can only be one,’ quote?”
I frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, lass, don’t tell me you don’t know the movie, Highlander ?”
What was he talking about? I shook my head, still confused by his question.
Connor slowly came around the counter, his eyes never leaving me. The way he was always doing that to me made my stomach flutter. Which disarmed my anger and left me breathless and now hopeless and on the verge of tears I swore I wouldn’t let him see. I was vaguely aware of the others enthralled in our exchange, but I couldn’t seem to look away from the imposing man as he stalked toward me.
“Do you like to gamble, Ms. Bell?” Danger lurked in his question.
I swallowed and shook my head. “No. I’ve never gambled.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in humor. “Why am I not surprised? Well, here’s the deal. And if you don’t think you can handle it and need to beg off, I’ll totally understand.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I had enough siblings to know when I was being baited, but the stakes were high enough I was intrigued. “I’m listening.”
Connor held up his hands and raised his voice. “To all the witnesses here. You heard the lass.” His gaze met and held mine. “Let’s make a wager. You and I will present our confections and baked goods at the wedding on Saturday, on Valentine’s Day, and we’ll let the townsfolk decide who is the better creator of sugary tidbits. How’s that?”
I knew he was an award-winning confectioner and chocolatier because I’d looked up internet articles about him. There was no way I could beat him. I mean, my stuff was good, but it couldn’t beat a professionally trained chef, or whatever you’d call someone of his caliber.
He pounced on my hesitation. “What’s the matter, Ivy Bell?” His taunting hit deep as he leaned forward a bit, that smirk pulling at his full mouth in a way that shouldn’t have made him even more attractive, but somehow it did. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Nope.” I scowled at him, fighting off the butterflies. “You’re on, Connor MacDowell. Give it your best shot.”
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Don’t you want to know what the wager is?”
“What do you mean?” I turned and crossed my arms over my chest, sure this was some ploy.
He chuckled. “In order for there to be a bet, something must be wagered. Someone must win and someone must lose.”
“Oh, right.” Whatever. I was already losing, so where else was there to go but down? “Well, what do you propose we bet?”
He shrugged. “How about the winner gets to keep their coffee station?”
I bit my lip. The truth was, I didn’t even care about the coffee station anymore. It was kind of silly to even fight about, really. I had bigger things on my mind, and the coffee was a minor inconvenience at this point. “Fine.” I stuck out my hand. “You’re on, MacDowell. And just so you know, I’m gonna kick your butt in this competition!”
His lips twitched, and he grasped my hand in his and leaned down until our noses almost touched. “I love a true challenge, so bring it on, lass. I can’t wait to see what you got.”