Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) Page 9

  His eyes have a weird, evaluative look in them, like he’s scouting me out the way he’d scout out a business in need of intervention. “It would be a pleasure to show you around Christiansted.”

  “Good!” Nelson exclaims, and Sadie flashes a huge smile my way.

  Now I’m stuck.

  “So.” Josh leans way too close again. “What sort of exploring shall we do?”

  My expression turns a little impish. “Do you like history?”

  He grimaces. “Not really. Why?”

  “Because I do.”

  Something like chagrin spreads across his face as I start rattling off the historic sites I want to visit. A little worm of devilish delight wriggles through me. If I’m stuck with this guy all tomorrow morning, I might as well make him regret offering his company.

  The morning is pleasant, the clear blue sky dotted with clouds that float on the balmy breeze, like dollops of whipped meringue on top of warm custard. Other than the fact that Joshua Mattingly is my escort, I enjoy wandering around the Christiansted historic park. The only thing that completely squelches my enthusiasm is the way he hovers, teasing me over the number of pictures I take.

  “Can’t help it.” He grins when I glare at him. “You make the most adorable tourist.”

  My floppy hat probably prompted the adorable part of the comment. “For your information, I happen to have majored in history.”

  “I thought you were a baker.”

  I turn to take another picture rather than explain my ambition to become a state historian. Comparing today to my San Juan excursion with Ryan makes me even less excited about the centuries of history surrounding me. While Josh strolls to an interpretive display, I send a text message to Tess, asking her to call me in about twenty minutes.

  My phone rings just as Josh and I exit the historic park. “It’s my boss,” I explain. “She wouldn’t call me unless it was really important.”

  “Must be a flour emergency,” he quips.

  Frowning, I hurry away. The crash of ocean waves filters over the line when I answer.

  “Why am I calling you?” Tess asks.

  “To get me out of an uncomfortable situation by the name of Joshua Mattingly.”

  “The best man you weren’t looking forward to meeting?”

  I groan. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t keep hitting on me, despite the complete lack of interest I’ve shown.”

  “It can’t be that bad. Send me a picture.”

  A glance in Josh’s direction proves his attention is elsewhere at the moment, so I quickly snap a photo and send it to Tess.

  She whistles when it comes through on her end. “I’d tap that.”

  “Very funny, Tess.” I send a tight smile Josh’s way when he looks over and waves. “Listen, I need your take on something.”

  “If it’s about Sadie Miller’s mental breakdown, I’m all ears.”

  “Sadie’s actually pretty lucid. It’s not that.”

  I find a bench nearby and sink down, aware of Josh’s slow approach. I wave him away, indicating a need for privacy. When he shrugs and wanders toward a street vendor’s stand, I turn and use the brim of my hat to hide my face.

  “You know how I had that stopover in San Juan?”

  “Yeah.” The slurp of something through a straw carries over the line.

  Peering at Josh to make sure he remains out of earshot, I continue. “I ran into Ryan.”

  Tess snorts and coughs. “Wutkowski?”

  “What other Ryan do you know who pertains to this situation?”

  She gives one final cough to clear her throat of whatever she’s drinking. “Did you tell him about Sadie’s wedding and all that?”

  “I did.” I pause for a few seconds. “He seemed to expect it, like it’s just such a Sadie thing to do.”

  “Did you get the inside scoop?”

  “More or less.” I run through the two sides of the story, at least to the extent Ryan and Sadie each shared them. “Neither one of them told me the whole truth. But they both seem to think getting together as a couple was a bad idea in the first place.”

  “Well,” Tess says, “I wasn’t exactly part of your little clique, so don’t expect any input from me on that.”

  I lean back and stretch my legs out, catching Josh’s eye in the process. I hold up my hand, fingers spread in a give-me-five gesture. “Ryan was acting really weird, too.”

  “Maybe he’s embarrassed you got stuck in the middle.”

  “Maybe.” The recollection of our walk on the beach surfaces, and an unexpected rush of heat fills my face. “He sort of asked me not to come to St. Croix. To stay in San Juan, to be more precise.”

  Tess is silent for a moment. “You don’t say.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Carmella, you just said Sadie and Ryan both left out the part of the story that completely explains their mutual breakup. The other reasons they cited for the split are valid, but it’s all stuff that could be worked out through compromise. And if Ryan actually asked you to consider saying in San Juan with him, instead of going to Sadie’s wedding like you promised her, then I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re keeping the whole truth from you for a specific reason.”

  A needle of suspicion pokes my core. “Like what?”

  She sighs. “I’m not gonna guess, because I’d probably be wrong. But it sounds like, whatever the truth is, they both think your knowing would hurt you.”

  What could possibly hurt me in the grand scheme of Sadie and Ryan’s breakup? Other than the fact that they’re my best friends, and, like I told Ryan, I’ll end up losing one or both of them when this whole thing’s all through. But maybe Tess is right, that somehow I’m part of the equation. Why else wouldn’t they tell me everything?

  “Carmella? You still there?”

  Shaking my head, I sit up straight. “Yeah. But I’d better get going, or the best man might swoop in on the conversation.” Josh is already inching into my peripheral vision. “Could you do me a favor when you get back from Tybee?”

  “Maybe. Are you gonna give up that chocolate cream pie recipe?”

  “No.” I chuckle. “Could you just stop over to my apartment and make sure Moxley hasn’t gained thirty pounds? MaMére likes to spoil him.”

  Tess bursts into a peal of laughter. “Sure thing, Yankee-girl.”

  The instant I hang up and stand, Josh appears at my side and loops his arm around my shoulders.

  “All the pastry problems solved?” he asks.

  “Everything’s fine.” Clearly, no one’s ever taught him about personal space. I shrug him off and check the time. “We’d better head back. Sadie’s got the seamstress coming for the fittings this afternoon.”

  “We need to grab lunch first. All that history has made me hungry.”

  Undeterred by my attempt to restrict physical contact, he takes my hand and leads me down the street. With an internal groan, I allow him to all but drag me toward a little restaurant a couple blocks away. I plan to insist on something quick, maybe a bottle of water and a piece of fruit, but my appetite is in cahoots with Josh. The scents wafting from the open doors elicit a loud rumble from my stomach. He grins when he hears it.

  We settle at a table near a back corner of the small space, and Josh orders two bottles of San Pellegrino and a sampler platter of seafood.

  “Eat here often?” I ask as the waitress walks away.

  “A time or ten.” Folding his arms on the table, he leans forward. “No allergies, I hope.”

  I shake my head, turning the bottles in the condiment rack to study their labels. “I wouldn’t have gotten far living in Savannah with a seafood allergy.”

  “You don’t have an accent like Sadie does. You aren�
�t from Georgia originally?”

  “New York. And no, I don’t mean Manhattan.” His mouth hangs open from the question I’ve preemptively answered. “You and Nelson don’t have the same accents either.”

  “Much to my parents’ chagrin, I sounded like a native Crucian until I started school. Guess I was imitating some of the staff.” Josh props his chin on one hand. “Mum and Dad sent both of us to prep school in Kingshill, where they tried to drill proper speech into me. Nelson went to Oxford and worked for a while in London. Mum’s family’s still there.”

  “And you didn’t? Go to Oxford, I mean.”

  “Oxford wouldn’t have me,” he replies with a mischievous wink. “I went to the States for college. University of Southern California. So while Nelson cultivated that nice clean accent, I got a mix of Crucian, Mum and Dad’s British, and a touch of So-Cal I picked up in Los Angeles.”

  The waitress returns with our San Pellegrinos, and I take a sip of the cool sparkling water while I formulate my next question. This is family history, and I have a chance to get the scoop on Nelson and Sadie’s whirlwind romance.

  “So your mom’s from London. What about your dad? He sounded like he’s from England, too.”

  Josh shakes his head. “His family tree has roots here that go all the way back to the Dutch colonials. But he spent a lot of years in London. That’s where he and Mum met. They moved back here to take over the business when my granddad retired. I think Nelson was two or three at the time. I came along several years later, a bit of a surprise.”

  “Of course you were.”

  At this point, the waitress reappears and slides a huge platter onto the table, boasting a steaming hot assortment of seafood. My mouth waters at the sight of crab legs, peel-and-eat shrimp, and some sort of panko-breaded fish strips.

  Josh puts one of the strips onto a small appetizer plate and hands it to me. “Cracked conch. I’ll eat the rest if you don’t like it.”

  “Like from a conch shell?”

  He nods, further piquing my curiosity. I’ve heard conch is sort of a Caribbean specialty, so I take the plunge and give it a try. The meat itself doesn’t have much flavor, but it’s tender, and the thin breading has great seasoning. Whoever cooked these up knows their stuff.

  We eat in silence for a minute or two, by which time I have an idea where to take the conversation. “So, Nelson’s quite a bit older than you, I take it.”

  “By about eight years. He’ll be thirty-nine next month.”

  I pop a bite of crab meat into my mouth. It’s so sweet, I don’t even need to dip it in butter. “Sadie mentioned he has kids.”

  He nods. “Two girls, cute as buttons. Katrina and Rose, ages seven and twelve.”

  “What do they think of this whole thing? Sadie marrying their dad, I mean.”

  “I think they’re okay with it.” Josh leans back, taking a swig from his bottle of San Pellegrino. “She doesn’t expect to replace their mother, and I think that helps.”

  “And their mother is . . .” I leave the question dangling. Part of me hopes he’ll reveal some dirty laundry about Nelson’s romantic past, like an affair and a messy divorce. Something that might indicate how deep Sadie might be in trouble here.

  Josh grows quiet and still, sets his bottle down, and heaves a sigh. “She died about four years ago. Car accident.”

  Carmella, you idiot.

  If Josh senses my embarrassment, he pretends not to. “Katrina doesn’t remember her well, but Rose does. It’s been a little harder for her to adjust. Fortunately, Sadie’s so bubbly and friendly, neither of them feels threatened. Helps that she’s involving them in the wedding.”

  His description of Sadie’s personality is accurate, at least.

  I clear my throat. “And what about you?”

  “As in, what do I think of Sadie and Nelson?” He smirks. “Does it matter what I think?”

  I drain my bottle. “Well, your brother seems pretty level-headed. You know him better than I do, of course, but asking someone to marry you less than a month after meeting her seems a little . . . more than spontaneous.”

  “Well, Nelson’s also the sort who goes after what he wants. For whatever reason, he and Sadie clicked. And that’s the end of the story, as far as the rest of us are concerned.” I start to argue, but he shrugs and holds up one hand. “My brother says he’s happy. And all I know is that, other than his girls, nothing’s made him happy in a really long time.”

  It’s hard to view Josh as an annoyance when he explains his take on the situation. Plus, now I feel bad for doubting Nelson’s intentions. Maybe my intuition upon meeting him was right. Maybe he really is in love with Sadie. Now my only concern is Sadie’s mindset. Rebound or not, she was with Ryan for six years.

  My cell phone gives a short ring, startling me. “Text message, sorry.” I fumble in my purse. “Do you mind?”

  He shakes his head, polishing off the last shrimp. I expect it to be Sadie, asking where we are, or maybe even Tess. I do not expect to see Ryan’s face on the caller ID.

  Surprised but pleased, I open the message. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Everything’s good?

  “I take it that’s not your boss.”

  I glance up at Josh, eyes wide. “What makes you say that?”

  His grin spreads. “Most people don’t blush when their bosses text them.”

  Gritting my teeth, I fire a short reply back to Ryan: Two thumbs up so far. Then I close out the screen and slip my phone back into my purse.

  Josh stares at me, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he drums his fingers on the table.

  “It’s a sunburn,” I say in defense.

  I absolutely am not blushing.

  “Sure it is.” He stands and pulls his wallet out. “I’ll go pay the check, and then we’ll head back to the resort.”

  Jumping to my feet, I reach back into my purse. “Hold on, you don’t have to pay.”

  “I asked you to lunch. Besides, you paid admission to the historic park.”

  Now I am blushing. “But that was only six dollars. And you hated every minute of it.”

  He laughs, a low sound that makes me want to laugh, too. “I never said I hated it. What’s not to like, strolling around on a beautiful morning with the world’s cutest baking historian?”

  Jamming on my hat, I scowl and stomp to the door as he heads to the register to pay.

  Chapter 11

  Gifts That Should Not Be

  When we return to the resort, Sadie whirls across the lobby and grabs my hand. Her smile is radiant, and she almost hops up and down as she steers me toward the elevator. “The seamstress just got here. I can’t wait to see your face when you try on your dress.”

  Josh gives me a mock salute in the instant before the elevator doors slide shut, and Sadie leans against the wall with a knowing grin.

  “So, how was your morning? Did you and Josh have fun?”

  I shrug, trying to be noncommittal. “It was okay. He’s not as annoying as I thought he’d be.” Or as annoying as I thought last night.

  “I knew you’d get along great.”

  “We have absolutely nothing in common.” She shakes her head, and I mimic her. “You’ve been trying to discern my type for years. When are you gonna give up?”

  She crosses her arms. “Well, why don’t you just tell me what your type is?”

  Her question gives me pause. I can’t exactly describe what kind of guy would be my type. I must have one. I’ve dated enough to know what I don’t like.

  Ryan’s face pops unbidden into my mind. The memory of his text from earlier must still be lingering. I shake my head, dismissing him. “Whatever. All I know is Josh is definitely not my type.”

  She bumps against my arm, grinning. “Could be fun anyway. You
’re only here for a week.”

  “Sadie.”

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  My jaw drops. “What? I―You don’t―” I sputter for a second or two. “That is completely irrelevant.”

  “That long, huh?” She winks, and before I can respond, the elevator stops and the door opens. “The girls are trying their dresses on right now. I’d love you to meet them.”

  Nelson’s daughters, two brown-eyed, blond-haired fairies of girls, spin across the center of the honeymoon suite’s living room when we enter, giggling as their dresses swirl around them. Sadie halts in the doorway to watch, a pleased smile on her face. The expression surprises me, given her sudden insistence that she doesn’t really like kids. But while I still haven’t figured out if she truly loves Nelson, it’s clear his daughters have won her heart.

  The seven-year-old, Katrina, if I remember correctly what Josh told me, jumps up and down when she sees us. “Sadie! It’s my favorite color!” She pinches her lavender chiffon skirt between her fingers and sketches a sweet curtsey.

  Behind her, Rose clasps her hands at her waist, her chin lowered as she shyly inches forward. This must be difficult for the twelve-year-old, despite Josh’s assertion that she’s okay with her father’s remarriage. Her dress, cut in the same girlish A-line pattern as Katrina’s, is a soft foam green color.

  “Thank you, Sadie,” she says.

  Sadie’s smile widens as she puts one hand on my shoulder. “Girls, this is Carmella Sannarelli. She’s the maid of honor.”