Chapter One #2
From somewhere behind me, Kelsey, who was silent, laughs out loud.
When he doesn’t immediately reply, I brace my hands on my hips and study him, wondering why he stopped in the first place. “Listen, I appreciate the fact that you tried to help, but I’ll figure something out.”
He slowly rises to his feet. “Do you have a spare? You must if you were trying to take this one off.”
“I assume I do, underneath all the baskets I just loaded into the back.” I hear the frustration in my voice and fight back an inkling of defeat. I’m not going to fall apart over a flat tire and ruined plans.
“You assume?” He shakes his head and strides around to the back end of the van, glancing inside and muttering a curse.
“There’s no obvious spare in here, so we’ll have to unload all this to see what’s underneath. What is all that anyway?” he asks.
“Candy. Homemade.”
“Interesting.” He raises his eyebrows, his gaze going from the sweet treats in the back to my face before he speaks. “Jason Dare,” he says, extending his hand.
“Faith Lancaster.” I place my hand in his, and the heat of his skin sizzles against my palm.
“Nice to meet you, Faith.” He curls his fingers around mine and lingers longer than is necessary for a handshake. Long enough for my body to tingle with awareness before he releases me.
“And this is my intern, Kelsey,” I say.
The other woman smiles at him but doesn’t shake his hand.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask in a husky voice I barely recognize, my entire body still hyperaware of that one brush of his skin.
“I own a nightclub. Club TEN29. Have you heard of it?” he asks.
I shake my head. I never go out to party at night, so what would I know about the club scene? But this man looks like he fits into it, with his sexy tousled brown hair that he probably paid a fortune to get cut so it fell just that way.
“Oh my God! My friends and I have been dying to go, but there’s always such a long line to get in,” Kelsey says, her excitement tangible.
She was so quiet, I almost forgot she was here.
“Well, here’s my business card,” Jason says, putting his hand in his coat pocket and coming out with a few cards. He hands one to Kelsey, who is bouncing on her feet in excitement. “Just show it to security, and they’ll let you right in or, at the very least, call me.”
“Oh my God, thank you!” she practically squeals.
His gaze settles on my face. “Now, let’s see to that spare.”
* * *
Jason
If I had to peg the type of woman I like, tall and willowy would describe most of my hookups, yet I can’t stop staring at the full-figured, curvy blonde with the porcelain skin and full lips who creates candy, of all things.
“Let’s move the baskets back to the apartment,” Faith says, breaking the spell that wove between us as we stared at one another, both clearly struck by something bigger than ourselves.
“I’ll take some.” Kelsey walks between us and starts to work.
Together, they unload the candy, which Faith and her assistant bring back upstairs to what I assume is her apartment, while I do something I haven’t done since college.
It’s a miracle I know how to change a tire.
For sure, my father, Robert Dare, didn’t teach me, as he was rarely around.
Maybe he taught my half-brothers from a woman nobody knew about how to handle the things a man should know.
Shaking off that painful memory, I call my cousin Gabe and let him know I’ll be late before throwing my jacket into the back of my car, rolling up my sleeves, loosening my tie, and getting down to my task.
While I work, Kelsey calls an Uber to take her home, and one shows up quickly. Apparently, Faith, having taken one of my business cards, has decided I’m a legitimate businessman and safe to be alone with.
It doesn’t take long to get the tire off the van, and on examination, I realize it was deliberately slashed, and that bothers me.
“How’s it going?” Faith asks me.
“No problems, unless you count the fact that someone deliberately cut your tire.” I glance over my shoulder.
Faith is frozen in place, her eyes wide, her concerned expression clearly telling me she is upset.
“It’s probably some of the kids in the neighborhood,” she finally says, visibly forcing herself to relax. “They congregate around here late at night, and I haven’t looked at the van since the day before yesterday.”
I’m not sure whether or not I believe her, and I tuck her reaction away to dissect another time.
She wraps her arms around herself, appearing uncertain for the first time since I met her. And a fierce feeling of protectiveness rushes over me, one I’ve previously experienced only for people I care about, yet I don’t know this woman at all.
“So what are you doing with all the candy?” I ask as I worked on the tire, eager to take that stricken look off her face, change the subject, shake off the weird emotions she provokes in me, and maybe get to know her at the same time.
“I own a store called Sweet Treats,” she says. “I want to build my business, so I made baskets of my signature item, and I was going to go around to the local businesses and ask if they’d put the candy and my business card by the register.”
“What makes your candy stand out?” I ask.
“Other than how good it is?” she asks cheekily.
“It’s handcrafted and made with love. If I grow enough, I’ll have to bring in outside-made candy to fill the cases, but that’s for another time.
Meanwhile, I know I’m a small shop, and it’ll be hard to get my name out there, but if I can dominate the area around my store based on the one thing I offer that’s different than anyone else, then maybe word of mouth will work in my favor. ”
I listen to her words and my hand stills on the last lug nut. Everything she says makes sense.
Her words dominating the area and standing out jumped out at me. “That’s it!” I say, excitement filling me because her words hit on the one thing missing from Club TEN29. Something unique to us, and suddenly I know just what I need to discuss with Gabe.
“What’s it?” she asks.
“You’ve come up with a brilliant idea, Faith Lancaster. And it just might help me with my business, so thank you.” I turn the wrench one last time and rise to my feet, my legs stiff from crouching in one position for so long.
“Happy to help.” She shrugs, obviously confused, but that is okay because I’m not. I finally have direction.
I look down at my hands, now completely covered in dirt and grease.
Faith glances at my blackened skin. “Oh! Come upstairs and wash up. It’s the least I can do for you after you saved me.”
I don’t want to get into my car covered in filth, and she seems okay with me now, so I nod. “I’d appreciate that.”
I follow her inside and up two flights of dark stairs. I immediately don’t like where she lives. From the description of the guys hanging out front late at night to the lack of lighting in the walk-up, it screams danger. But who am I to judge? Yet it bothers me. I wouldn’t let my sister live here.
By the time we walk into the small apartment, I’m frowning, but one look at the cheerful décor, and my mood lightens.
This is a woman who makes the best of any situation, I realize, taking in the white curtains and the old furniture with bright pink throw pillows covering the cushions.
A matching fun pink rug sits under a beat-up coffee table covered in well-read books.
“You like pink,” I muse, coming up beside her. “And candy.” She even smells sweet and delicious. “Are you fun, Faith?”
Her cheeks turn an adorable shade of … pink. “I can be, in the right situation.”
I wonder what that right situation might be, because I would definitely like to have fun with her. The kind between the sheets. Before my dick can react to that thought, I ask, “Where’s the bathroom?”
She leads me to a small partly open door and gestures for me to go inside. “There’s a tiny linen closet behind the door. Take a towel and get yourself cleaned up.”
She steps away and heads back to the main area of the apartment.
I glance over to where the small kitchen is visible through a pass-through. The candies are neatly stacked on the Formica countertops.
“So about those treats. Did I earn myself one?” I ask, joining her.
She blinks in surprise. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She rushes to the kitchen, returning with a pop and handing it to me.
I bite into it once, then twice, quickly swallowing the sweet, delicious candy. “Mmm. Damn, these are good. S’mores flavor?” I ask.
She nods, a grin on her face. “It’s like a taste of home,” she says softly.
Sensing this means something to her, I want to know more. “How so?”
She sighs. “My mom and I used to make candy all the time when I was growing up. She always wanted to open a store in our small town, but she didn’t have the ability.
Things were … out of her control. And she needed to work to take care of me and my brother.
But this was her favorite recipe, and it reminds me of her. ”
“What happened?” I ask. “If you want to talk about it.”
“She died recently.” Faith blinks and looks away.
Recognizing raw pain, I change the subject. “Well, your candy is delicious, and I hope you succeed,” I say, treating her to a warm smile, realizing our time together is coming to an end.
“I have a meeting I need to get to,” I say. But I’m not ready to leave.
“Oh, right.” She rushes over to the kitchen and returns with a basket in her hand. “Take this. As a thank you. You’re a Good Samaritan, Jason Dare.”