Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (144 page)

“You said you want to stay,” she said. “I want to sleep with you. A lot. Actually sleep, along with this. You should move in with me.”

He looked down at her, the dirt streaks on her cheeks making him want to kiss her.

Of course, her breathing made him want to kiss her.

“I’d love to live with you, Ad. You can move in here.”

“So you are moving here?”

“Of course. I’ll have to make trips to Chicago periodically, but yes. And this house is great. You can do your candy here. Maybe go online with it. I’ll farm and—”

She sat up straight. “You’re going to farm?”

“Yes.” He felt it in his bones. That was what he wanted—to grow things that had nothing to do with the lab or Ag Innovations. He wanted to grow things that didn’t require him to tinker and test and trial. He wanted to plant good old seeds and watch them come up. He wanted to have crops he didn’t have to meet with anyone about, plans he didn’t have to have conference calls for. “Farming here, being with you, this house, this land, is what will make me happy. This is what I want.” He squeezed her and smiled. “I can hang out downtown at the diner with the other guys at lunch and we can play ball and go to barbecues.”

“You don’t play ball,” she pointed out.

“Maybe I can learn.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He pinched her butt. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She looked up at him with a mixture of surprise, happiness and worry. “This is what you want, huh?”

“This. You. Adrianne—”

“Does the shower in this joint work?” She let go of him and slid to the floor.

“It should. But are you—”

“Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and headed toward the front of the house. “Why don’t you grab that jar of caramel sauce too while you’re at it.”

OVER AN HOUR LATER, they were back in the kitchen. Mason was stirring the butter and sugar on the stove for the second try at the toffee while she finished the truffles.

“Why’d you leave Chicago?”

She paused in the midst of swirling white chocolate on the top of the dark chocolate Kahlua truffles.

“I got tired of it,” she said, semi-honestly.

“Not tired of the candy.”

She smiled. No, never the candy. “Selling the candy, the pace, the pressure, competing with my brothers.”

She took a deep breath and looked up. How much should she tell him? How much mattered? Not many people in Sapphire Falls—really just Phoebe and Matt—knew all the details. Hailey knew she’d gotten sick and chosen Sapphire Falls to be healthier and slow down, but Hailey didn’t know about the heart attack.

But if this was the man she wanted to be with forever—and she was more sure of that all the time—then she needed to let him close.

She finished the swirls and laid the decorating pen to the side.

“I pushed hard,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel and facing him. “I was top seller but it wasn’t easy staying there. I preferred making the candy, inventing new recipes, playing in the kitchen. I loved being in the stores too—seeing customers trying our stuff. We have a huge factory, of course, but attached to it we still run the original Scott Candy Shop that my great grandmother started. It’s this great, old-fashioned candy shop with wood floors, high ceilings, huge windows and glass display cases.”

“Scott Candies?” Mason asked. “As in Adrianne Scott?”

Everyone knew Scott Candies. They hadn’t over taken Hershey or Mars, but they did enough business that the top companies watched out for them.

She nodded. “My family’s business. My great-great grandfather started it. It’s a huge thing, to be a part of it.”

“But you left it?”

“Yes. I have three brothers who all intended to take it over, make it bigger, push it forward.”

“And you couldn’t keep up?”

She hated that was his assumption, though she could admit that it was probably an obvious conclusion to jump to. “I was the best of the bunch. Biggest sales, the most contacts, the board loved me.”

“But?”

“But it can be harder to stay on top than it is to get there. They were all watching me, waiting for me to screw up, trying to get to things before I could, constantly pushing and criticizing.” She rubbed her hand over her heart. “It sucked.”

“They’re your brothers,” Mason said with a scowl.

“Yes. But they believed they were doing what was good for the company, and therefore for all of us. Pushing each other resulted in new products, new accounts, new ideas. And they figured that if I could do a great job—wonderful, but if one of them could do better—wonderful. They still compete with each other.”

Thinking back made her chest, her stomach and her temples tighten. She missed some of it. She missed the product development. She loved having ideas about new things they could try, brainstorming with the candy makers, doing the taste testing and focus groups and the thrill of finding something new that people liked.

But her father had insisted she and her brothers be more involved in sales. No one knew or cared about the business like they did, he contended. Who better to be out there selling Scott candies than the Scott family themselves? Anyone could mix ingredients, not everyone could sell. Or so he maintained.

She didn’t miss the frustrations in dealing with him. She didn’t miss the headaches and stomachaches her brothers gave her. She didn’t miss the jet lag, the need for sleeping pills at night and massive doses of caffeine in the morning, the kissing the asses of people she didn’t even like. She definitely didn’t miss the nicotine withdrawal from her attempts to quit four times a year or the sense of guilt and failure when it didn’t work.

“This is pretty different from what you did with Scott Candies,” Mason said.

“It is. It’s good. I was in the fast track in Chicago, but I wasn’t happy or healthy. This is better all the way around.”

“Can you open up your own shop? Don’t they have rights to the candy recipes?”

“Of course they do.” What did he think? Her family was a bunch of idiots? “My grandmother helped with product development and had some ideas that were never approved. She passed those recipes to me when she died. I’m going to use those to start and then develop my own.”

She leaned back on the counter behind her. “I learned the ins and outs of the business and the kitchen before I was even twelve. Selling the candy was always the fun part—helping people find what they want, seeing them try it—I mean it’s candy. What’s better than that?”

Mason was still stirring but his attention was fully on her. “You’re better at the candy making than the selling?”

Adrianne picked up a pink decorating pen and started on the cherry chocolate truffles. They had a hint of cherry in the chocolate and a rich cherry center. “Nah, I’m a natural seller. I worked hard, long hours and stuff, but it wasn’t difficult. I was great at it. I took off right away and everyone, myself included, assumed that’s where I should be. I missed the creating—which I’m also good at—but I could sell ice to an Eskimo as they say.”

She looked up to find Mason smiling at her. “What? Keep stirring.”

He did but said, “I’m trying to imagine you in a conference room in a suit. The jeans and ponytail are so you.”

She shrugged. She’d successfully shed all of that and felt very comfortable in her new persona. “I look damned good in a skirt and heels.”

“Hey, at the end of the day I’ll gladly strip you out of whatever you choose to wear,” he said with a sexy grin.

She grinned back. “Well, no more suits. I love blue jeans. I don’t want high-pressure meetings, high stakes, long hours, traveling—I’m over all of it. I love small town, quiet and simple.”

“What about short trips and a skirt once in a while?”

She looked up from the pink squiggles. He’d stopped stirring again.

“Mason.” She pointed to the pot. When he started moving the spoon again, she said, “You mean like vacations?” Sure, if they could drive to their destination. She didn’t fly anymore. Not since her heart had stopped beating on a plane two years ago. “Because I’ll do sundresses, no problem.”

“That or trips to Chicago or DC with me.”

Chicago was drivable. DC—not as much. She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to go?”

“I don’t want to go without you.”

She felt her heart flip. “That’s…nice.” To be with Mason she’d figure something out. She could drive to DC if she had a few days head start. “Yeah, I’d go for a few days. I’d even wear a dress.”

“When I go its more than a few days.”

“How long?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

“Two weeks minimum.”

“You’ll have to be gone for two weeks or more at a time?”

He frowned slightly. “Yes. Projects will need overseeing. I’ll need to meet with the key players. If there are problems I’ll have to stay until those are resolved.”

Just then the smell of burnt butter hit her. Again.

Dammit.

She crossed to the stove and moved the pot to the back burner. So it was only going to be truffles for the reception. They were out of butter so no toffee and the jar of caramel sauce was now only half full.

“Mason, I—” She swallowed hard and turned to face him. “I can’t. I told you that I left Chicago because I wasn’t healthy. I wasn’t kidding—or being dramatic. I had a heart attack.”

She leaned against the counter, gripping the edge and awaiting his response.

He stared at her.

“Mason. Did you hear me?”

He took a deep breath, the lines between his eyebrows creasing deeply. “I heard you.”

Okay. She waited.

Finally, the look on his face eased from confused to concerned. “Are you okay?”

She was. She knew that. Everyone kept telling her she was. And Mason needed her to be. “Yes. I’m fine. Fully recovered. Have been for a while. But it’s part of the reason I love and need Sapphire Falls. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. Slow paced. All the things I want now. I can’t leave for long periods of time.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to.”

He reached out and she took his hand. He hauled her in and enfolded her in his arms. “God, Adrianne,” he muttered in her hair, stroking his hand from her crown to the back of her neck. “God.”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m okay, Mason.”

He leaned back too, her face in his hands, and kissed her.

It was the sweetest, most heartfelt, most amazing kiss of her life.

When he lifted his head, he stared into her eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

She nodded. “I—”

Her phone rang “It’s Raining Men.” That was okay. She’d had no idea what she was about to say to Mason. He let her go as she reached for it. “Hi, Phoebe.”

“Hey, Hailey’s bringing the other investors to the farm. Should be there in about fifteen.”

“Thanks.” She sighed and disconnected. “We’ll have to move this party to my house,” she told Mason.

She started to tell him why but paused. He’d said no to Hailey that morning. But she was still bringing investors out? Did she not realize he was saying no to the donation and to selling the farm? Did Mason not realize she didn’t know that?

Adrianne really didn’t want to get into this now.

She didn’t need her—was he her boyfriend?—well, whatever Mason was, she didn’t want him upset. She didn’t need her boss—who was sort of a friend—upset.

She needed her candy made.

And more butter.

Simple things. Things she could do something about.

“We need to go to the grocery store,” she finally said.

He looked around. “Okay. You can leave this stuff here if you want.”

Leaving the finished candy would be easier—and faster since Hailey was on her way.

“Great. Let’s go.” The investors wouldn’t come in the house. As far as they were all concerned the house would be demolished.

Adrianne felt a twinge in her heart at that thought. She liked this house. Mason loved it.

Dammit.

She was sure to take different roads than Hailey likely would on the way back to town.

But as she did it, she realized this had gotten complicated. She didn’t like complicated.

Worse, it had the potential to be her absolute least favorite thing—dramatic.

Back roads and lies weren’t going to save her forever.

“HE’S STAYING?” Phoebe asked. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And on the farm. In the house Hailey wants to knock down.”

They were back at Adrianne’s contemplating finishing the rest of the candy she needed to make. She’d encouraged Mason to call Drew and see what the guys were up to, knowing that she had to get the candy done and certain that with him around it wasn’t going to happen. She’d burned far too much butter as it was.

But mostly she needed to talk to her best girlfriend.

Adrianne was eternally grateful that her best friend was a teacher and didn’t pick up part-time work in the summer. She needed Phoebe to be able to drop everything and come listen to Adrianne’s problems at a drop of a hat. Apparently.

“Wow.”

“Because of me. At least partially. Mostly, I guess.”

“Wow.”

“Stop saying that!” Adrianne snapped. “That’s not helpful.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Phoebe said.

Adrianne blew out a breath. “Yeah. Me too.”

“You want him to stay?”

“Yes.” She knew that for certain. “But…”

“But what? You’re in love, he’s in love, he wants to live here, you want to live here. Sounds perfect.”

Adrianne nodded. It did. She should be ecstatic.

When he was with her, all she could think about was how much she wanted him, how head-over-heels she was. But when she had some space, she realized how crazy it all was.

“What about the shop, the project, the town, Hailey?”

“Oh, screw Hailey,” Phoebe retorted.

“Easy for you to say.” Hailey was her boss. And her sort of friend. At a minimum, she’d trusted Adrianne to have the town’s best interests at heart.

“Practice it a few times, it gets easier,” Phoebe replied. “You cannot live your life around what Hailey Conner wants and thinks.”

“No, but I had—have—a responsibility. I’m on the committee—”