Sweeter Than Candy Read online

  Luka’s wife, Olive, has worked wonders on my stiff and stoic brother. With her Bohemian approach to life and light-hearted personality, she’s drawn him out of the tough shell he’d placed around himself. In some ways, I feel like I’m seeing the man he would’ve been had the accident not happened. Olive returned a piece of his very soul once lost in the carnage of the wreckage left behind after the accident.

  Losing our anchors and being responsible for running the multi-million dollar candy business our family is known for forced us to sink or swim. Luka manned up and took over the helm, and two years later with a B.A. in Business Management, I joined him. It’s a miracle we made it this far.

  “I’m all for supporting baby sister, but a tea party?” Kane quips.

  “It’s high tea. There’s a difference. Which you should know given our mother was English. You philistine.”

  Kane grins. “I’ve had other worries on my mind.”

  “I admit, it feels stuffy,” Micah adds.

  “When has Rachel every turned down an opportunity to get dressed up?” I ask.

  “Never. On the plus side, I’m sure there will be plenty of single friends there,” Kane drawls.

  “Hate to disappoint you, brother, but it’ll be a small, intimate gathering. Her female guests are out of your league.”

  A self-confessed serial dater, Kane had a case of Peter Pan syndrome. The green-eyed rogue spent the majority of his time abroad, working from his laptop for the company’s art and research and development departments.

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “No. We don’t play games with people who matter to our sister.”

  “Humph.”

  “Keep your complaints to yourself today. Rachel needs a win,” I caution them as I pull into the parking lot of The BonBonerie bakery and café. I’ve spent the first months of Acton’s life heavily involved in the day-to-day while Joseph works on a project abroad. After taking three weeks off around the time of his birth, he’d run out of paternity leave. It’d killed me seeing my sister struggle to recover and find her footing in the strange new world of parenting.

  Seeing her find her stride now has given me a new respect for her strength, and the specialists I never knew existed before. Lactation consultants and birth coaches were not in my vocabulary a few months ago. I thought midwives were an outdated practice from before the times of modern medicine. I was wrong.

  Exiting the car, I lead the others down the stone stairway past the painted cutout of the chef balancing delectable pastries where people often placed their faces for a photo op. Entering the glass doors, we’re surrounded by mismatched porcelain plates, bowls, teacups, and saucers. Resting on top of antique furniture, beside faux confectioners, they give an Alice in Wonderland vibe. The perfect setup for a place that serves tea and sweets.

  We round the corner and step up into a cozy nook made for intimate dining. The space was fitted with three tables and decorated with various plates and posters. Knick-knacks line the shelves high along the walls. Leaving the space behind, we make our way to the backroom that’s been reserved for our gathering.

  A long, wooden table sits in the center of the room. Small, white milk jugs full of large blooms rest in the middle. China plates with various floral patterns rest on doilies, beside similarly designed teacups and saucers. The checkerboard floor contrasts sharply with the pale blue walls and serving counter. I take a second to observe Rachel chatting happily with her birthing coach, Austen, and lactation consultant, Clara. Acton dozes peacefully in a pram beside his father who’s talking to Luka and Olive.

  Turning, Rachel offers a smile. “Welcome boys.”

  Clara visibly stiffens when she sees me. We got off on the wrong foot and never recovered. She treats me with a cool disdain that screams of dislike.

  “Oh, she doesn’t like you, brother,” Kane crows. “That’s a first for Señor Suave. I like her already.”

  Micah chuckles and I grit my teeth. It bothers me that she continues to remain standoffish. I’m not a people pleaser by any means. I’ve learned to place a wall up when it comes to the opinion of others. It’s a survival skill when you live life in the limelight. Clara, however, isn’t just anyone. She’s becoming a major part of Rachel’s life. That makes her important. Seeing her nurturing nature, inexhaustible patience, and sweetness has left me admiring her.

  Determined to charm her, I nudge Kane out of the way and take the seat positioned beside her. The thin-lipped smile she grants me makes me mentally wince. Game on, Clara Paulson.

  “Are you a tea drinker, Ms. Paulson?”

  “Clara is fine, and not really.”

  “Perhaps I can help you.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Because you drink a lot of tea, Asher?”

  “Yes, actually. My mother came from England, and tea’s been a part of our upbringing in a way most Americans aren’t used to.”

  Interest sparks in the depths of her dark brown eyes. “That must’ve been interesting.”

  “It was. We’re a blend of European and America customs.”

  “Hmmm.” She browses her menu. She’s nowhere near thawed, but she appears to be receptive to light conversation. That’s more than I’ve gotten over the past month.

  “Tell me how a beautiful woman like you ends up in this job field,” Kane says from the spot he’s taken on her left.

  She smiles. “Charmer. I don’t have a real answer. I always knew I wanted to help people, and being a nurse appealed to me. Once I was in the field, I drifted toward the pediatric side of medicine, and fell in love with helping new mothers.”

  “Luckily for us,” Rachel says.

  Clara chuckles. The warm sound is pleasing to my ears. She seems so genuine. It’s refreshing and intriguing. I’m drawn to her.

  “You have a natural infinity for it,” Rachel adds.

  “Thank you. That really means a lot.” She smiles at my sister sweetly, and I feel a jolt of jealousy. She’s never graced me with anything close to that expression. I want to experience being on the end of her sweetness. The thought startles me. I can’t afford to be into this girl. She’s too close to my family, and my heart isn’t ready for the pain only love can cause. Other than discreetly fulfilling a need, I avoid entanglements with women like the plague.

  Chapter Two

  CLARA

  I walk into Jungle Jim’s excited about the cooking class. The international market has been around as long as I can remember. With sections dedicated to different countries, fresh bakery goods, meat, and the best price for produce around, it was a huge part of sticking to my meal budget and trying out new things. When I learned they were now holding cooking classes it went on my mini bucket list. Each year instead of resolutions I made a list of things I’d like to do. Today I’d be checking another one off my list of fifty things.

  The singing Elvis lion still amuses me as much as it did when I was little. Part nostalgia and part plain old silliness, I watch as the animatronic creature dressed in a glittery teal pantsuit with slicked-back hair, clearly modeled after the King begins to strum his guitar. “All Shook Up” played from the speaker as the lion sang along.

  The awe and laughter of the children watching is adorable. I move past him and the tempting candy to browse the large produce section. I mentally prep my weekly meals based on the best sale prices. After the lesson, I’ll swing around the store to do my shopping for the week. The Cereal Bowl Band, which is grouped around the yacht at the far end of the fresh fruit and vegetables, mimes along to the Beatles, “Hold Your Hand”. You haven’t lived until you see the Honey Bee, Lucky Charms Leprechaun, and the Trix Rabbit have a jam session on the bow of yacht that has the cast of Gilligan’s Island painted on the windows.

  Slowly wandering through the aisle, I find the space where they’re holding the class for a Steakhouse Dinner at Home. I walk into the class and take in the homey space. The instructor, a blonde woman in her early fifties, is wandering around the room, engaging the people seated
around tables and standing in conversation. I recognize her from the website. Feeling slightly star-struck, I browse the tables for a kind face and a place to sit.

  “Clara?”

  The smooth baritone is familiar. Turning, I find Asher seated at a table in the corner.

  “Asher?”

  “I didn’t realize you liked to take cooking classes.”

  “This is my first one.”

  “You’ll love it. I’ve been to many here, and each one was excellent. Would you like to sit next to me?”

  Saying no is impossible without appearing extremely rude. The glimmer in his gaze tells me he knows that.

  “I would. Thank you.” He stands and pulls out the chair. I sit, and he pushes it in.

  “I’m glad we get to spend time together outside of the house.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, I wasn’t at my best the first time we met, and I feel as if I haven’t had the chance to redeem myself.”

  “Do you even care?” I ask bluntly.

  He clears his throat. “Yes. It was a bad representation.”

  “You know the way we treat others says a lot about ourselves.”

  “I do, but Rachel wasn’t the only one stressed that day. I’m not used to feeling so helpless. Especially when it comes to my baby sister. After our parents died we took over rearing her as best we could. We can all be a little over the top when it comes to Rachel.”

  “If that’s a little over the top, I’d hate to see angry,” I say dryly.

  His lips curve up. “We’re a passionate family.”

  His cool and calm demeanor is lost on me when I saw his fire first.

  “Gross understatement.”

  “I want to welcome everyone, and thank each of you for coming. It’s your interest that allows us to continue holding these classes. For those of you who’ve never been to one of our classes, my name is Kathy, and we’re going to have fun tonight. Anyone can cook. It’s a matter of having the proper instructions. Look at the person sitting beside you and introduce yourselves.” She waited as greetings are exchanged. “These are your partners for the rest of the evening.”

  I turn toward Asher and glare.

  “Howdy partner.” He winks.

  Bastard. It’s slightly flattering. Not that I’ll let him know I feel that way. Sighing, I roll my eyes.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the ropes. Give me a truce for the next hour-and-a-half.” He holds out his hand. “Truce?”

  I slip my hand into his, and we shake. “Truce.”

  “Now that we’ve met, I’ll pass out binders. It’ll have the step-by-step instructions for each course, which will help you continue to follow along.”

  The white binders are passed around, and I forget about the animosity between us as we look over the paperwork.

  “First up we’ll be making an arugula salad with pears and walnuts. Healthy food does not have to be boring. Salads come in all kinds of combinations. Don’t be afraid to play with textures, tastes, and different kinds of leafy greens. This is a classy salad. It’s a few steps up from your everyday starter, but it’s also low prep.”

  I smile. I like Kathy.

  “I’m going to set you up at your stations now.”

  She moves us to our station. I can’t help but feel like I’m in some sort of home ec class.

  “First rule of cooking, cleanliness. You always want to have a clean workspace, clean hands, and clean ingredients. So, let’s wash our hands, take out all of our salad ingredients, and chop up our lettuce.”

  We’re quiet as we follow her directions.

  “Do you want to chop or mix the ingredients?” Asher asks

  “I’ll mix this time.”

  We find an easy rhythm as we chop and mix our way through the salad and on to prosciutto-wrapped asparagus.

  “The oven is preheated to four-hundred-and-fifty. What’s the next step?” he asks.

  “We need to line the baking sheet with aluminum foil and coat it with olive oil.”

  “I’m on it. So are you cooking to gain more recipes or improve your skills?”

  “Both. How about you?”

  “Definitely to improve my skills.” His sheepish expression makes me laugh.

  “Is someone not a great cook?”

  “I’m a lot better than I was when I first started,” he replies.

  “That’s not a no.”

  “I try to be as honest as possible.” His voice is velvet seduction—deep, smooth, and tempting. He is so different in this setting. Warm, funny, and touchable. Stop. Danger signs flash in my head. You don’t mix business with pleasure, and while Rachel and Acton are both doing well now, we’re still business colleagues of a sort. Aren’t we? I cling to my reasoning and the memory of his harshness. We have nothing in common. Except for wanting to learn how to cook better. It’s a fluke, I argue with myself as I keep a cool exterior. As a healthcare worker, I’ve developed an excellent poker face.

  “What is it you actually do?” I ask, keying in onto neutral ground for conversation.

  “A lot of public relations work, and dealing with different companies we employ. I used to do a travel more, but we’ve trained and delegated much of our work over the past couple of years. It gets tiresome being constantly on the go.”

  “And you want to be closer to home?” I ask curiously.

  “That’s where the majority of my family is. I don’t want to miss my nephew’s growth, and I suspect it won’t be long before Luka is adding to his family as well.”

  “And you?”

  “Immensely enjoy being an uncle.” He skirts the question, and I ease off. If I ever needed a sign, that was it. I want kids like yesterday. Take that, overactive imagination. Pleased with my reasoning, I relax. So the incredibly handsome man isn’t the incarnation of Satan. It doesn’t make him right for me. I find Asher has a dry sense of humor I enjoy. A portion of three cheese penne pasta and a surf and turf filet mignon topped with lemon butter crabmeat, I’m wondering who could eat all of this?

  “I’m stuffed just looking at this,” I say as we arrange the meals on a plate, using Karen’s display as a guide.

  “Remember we still have apple dumplings with cinnamon sauce for dessert.”

  “I hope they’re sending us home with a to-go box.”

  He chuckles. “I could pack this all away.”

  “You must have one hell of a metabolism to keep so fit.”

  “You think I’m fit?” He smiles.

  Damnit. “I can’t speak to the time it takes you to run a mile, but you appear to be fairly healthy to me.”

  “So do you.”

  Is he joking? I’m comfortable with my size, but I’d never be featured in a fitness magazine. I pegged him for the slender blonde type.

  “Thank you.”

  He gives me a once over that makes me tingle. The skinny jeans and long black shirt with floral décor suddenly feel inadequate. I clear my throat.

  After he drizzles the butter sauce on top, I declare the plate finished. “What do you think?” I ask, tilting it up toward him.

  “I think we aced it.” He holds his hand up for a high-five, and I deliver it. Our palms slap.

  “You two are an excellent team. This is great work,” Karen says as she observes our plate.

  “What do you think, Kathy, do we get an A?”

  “Yes. Did you tell her what your first attempts were like?” Kathy asks.

  “Why don’t we leave the past behind us where it belongs?” Asher says smoothly.

  “Oh no. I want to hear about this.”

  “Let’s just say Asher has grown leaps and bounds.” She pats his shoulder before moving on to the next table.

  Asher points to me. “Not a word.”

  I raise my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You wanted to.”

  I keep my mouth shut as we prepare to settle down for our meal before we move on to making dessert. The salad had been better than I anticipated. I’
d never been a blue cheese fan, but it worked with the other ingredients.

  “Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

  Talking is minimal as we devour our meal. I’m impressed. We did a good job, and I think I could actually recreate this in my own kitchen.

  A little while later, stuffed to the gills, we exit the cooking studio.

  “I feel like I owe you a movie to go along with dinner,” Asher says.

  I laugh. “I wish my plans were that pleasant. I’m headed to the store to grocery shop. Isn’t adulting grand?”

  He walks me over to the carts. “I guess I’ll see you around then?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for being my partner today. I actually had a good time.”

  “Maybe next time we can plan it?”

  I’m still questioning his intentions as we say our good-byes and he leaves the store. Was he being nice and making conversation, or actually hitting on me? Does it matter? No. I try to believe my words as I push the grocery cart toward produce. It doesn’t. He’s not my type.

  The words ring hollow.

  ASHER

  “You ready for this, brother?” I ask as Micah laughs.

  “I am, but not as much as you. It’s funny to me that someone so well read and uptight is such a huge horror fan.”

  “I think I got it from Dad. He raised us on the classics, man. A Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, and Halloween. How could I not keep the tradition alive?” I pull out of the parking lot of his condo.

  “Kane would love this if he was here.”

  “I know. He’s pissed we’re catching David Labrava’s photo op.” I grin. The actor who played Happy on Sons of Anarchy was one of his favorites from the show. HorrorLand was a yearly convention for all things dark and gruesome. This year they have an amazing actor appearance list and some good panels.

  “He’d be proud.”