She grabbed his arm. “Nope. It’s the motel for me. We can’t be together while we’re sleeping anyway.” A yawn snuck up on her, too fast to smother. “Whoops. Sorry.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Much as he’d like to spend the next few hours kissing and talking . . . and kissing some more . . . Katherine needed to sleep.
“I’ll take you to the motel. You can get a full night’s sleep, and we’ll spend all day tomorrow together.” He tried to disengage, but she tightened her grip.
“I’m not going to deny I’m tired—but can’t we stay here by the fire for a few more minutes?”
As always, she was impossible to refuse.
“If that’s what you want.” He urged her back against him.
With a contented sigh, she nestled close again. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be on this Thanksgiving Day.”
He stroked her hair, corralling the desire to launch a heavy kissing session. That could wait until tomorrow, when the woman in his arms wasn’t running on adrenaline. “Tell me about the chocolate shop you’re going to open.”
She complied, but as he asked her a few questions, she began to drift off.
He let her.
Whenever she awakened, he’d take her to the Gull so she could get some real sleep.
But for now, he was as happy as a seagull with a french fry just to hold her in his arms and give thanks on this appropriately named day. For he agreed with what Katherine had said a few minutes ago.
There was nowhere he’d rather be on this Thanksgiving Day.
And it was exactly where he hoped to be on every Thanksgiving Day to come for the rest of his life.
Epilogue
“Ready for the big day tomorrow?”
At the question, Katherine straightened up from the glass display case, polishing cloth in hand, and smiled at the man in the doorway who’d walked with her on every step of the journey from doodles on a paper napkin to hands-on renovations to tomorrow’s grand opening of Chocolate Harbor.
“As ready as I can be—and more than a little nervous.”
“After all the press you’ve gotten, you shouldn’t be. And the residents are chomping at the bit to support your business.” Zach continued through the door and shut it behind him, a wicker picnic basket in hand.
“What’s that for?” She motioned to the antique-looking hamper. “And why aren’t you at The Perfect Blend? Fridays are always super busy.”
“Shop’s closed for the day. Did you eat lunch?”
She twisted her wrist and gaped at her watch. “I can’t believe it’s two o’clock already.”
“I’ll take that as a no on lunch. Let’s go to the beach.” He lifted the hamper. “I owe you a picnic.”
“Now?”
“Why not? You’re ready for the opening. If you hang around here, you’ll just get more nervous.” He held out his hand. “Thanks to uncooperative weather, we never did get to reschedule our cancelled beach picnic from September, and this gorgeous May day is made for a celebration on the sand.”
“Sold.” She tucked the cloth under the pristine counter and circled around to join him. “Besides, I have another piece of news to share that also deserves a celebration.”
“Any hints?”
“Not until we’re at the beach.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road. Do you want to swing by your house first?”
“You mean Frank’s house. It still doesn’t feel like mine.”
“He may own it, but it’s yours as long as you want to rent it, now that he and Stephanie are ensconced as houseparents at Hope House.”
“I’m glad that worked out for them. They seem to be loving it.”
He switched the hamper to his other hand. “You know, it’s funny. All those years Stephanie was enmeshed in her career, I never thought of her as the motherly type. But from what I can tell, she’s thriving in the role—as are the kids under her and Frank’s care.”
“A perfect illustration of what love can do.”
“Speaking of love . . .” He swung the hamper out of the way and leaned down, letting actions speak louder than words.
As always, his kiss sent a ripple of delight through her.
She put her arms around his neck and held on tight.
In the end, he was the one who broke the lip-lock. “If we keep this up, we’ll never get to the beach.”
“I could live with that.” She didn’t relinquish her grip, letting him back up only a meager few inches. “It’s romantic here—or wherever you are.”
“Sweet.” He gave her his heart-melting, I’m-all-yours look that never failed to turn her insides to jelly. “But you could use a change of scene. You’ve been almost living in this shop for weeks, between the renovations and decorating and chocolate making.”
“It came out nice, though, didn’t it?” She pivoted in his arms to give the space a slow, three-sixty scan.
A large glass display case took center stage, with a small checkout counter beside it. Boxed chocolates were arranged on two long shelves that hugged one wall. The other wall was adorned with large photos of the various stages of chocolate production, from cacao trees and beans to tempering to the final product. The picture window in front offered passersby an enticing glimpse of the inviting retail part of the store, with its hardwood floor covered by a rug in jewel tones and a tiny table with two chairs—for patrons who couldn’t wait to sample their purchases.
The back of the shop, where the magic happened, was all stainless steel and high-tech, but up here the ambiance encouraged indulgence.
“Nice doesn’t come close to describing it.” Zach nuzzled her neck. “Spectacular would be more accurate.”
“Thank you.” She refocused on him. “By the way, I like your quote on the board out front today.”
“With a chocolate shop opening next to me tomorrow, I had to get in the spirit. Besides, a balanced diet is chocolate in both hands. Right?”
She grinned. “Right. Let’s hope enough people agree with that to keep me in business.”
“You already have a standing order at the tearoom. And Tracy at the cranberry farm was receptive to the idea of doing a joint promotion with her cranberry nut cake and your cranberry truffles, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. I’ve also got two custom orders for truffles as wedding favors.”
“And you haven’t even opened your doors yet.”
“I know.”
“I predict you’ll have a booming business.” He took her hand. “Let’s go have our picnic before you’re too busy to hang out with the local barista.”
She squeezed his fingers. “That will never happen.”
His eyes warmed at her husky tone. “Hold that thought.”
“I intend to hold more than that. Those broad shoulders of yours are beckoning.”
The smoldering ember in his brown irises erupted into a blaze, and he tugged her toward the door. “We’re out of here.”
She followed without protest.
As she’d follow him wherever he wanted to go for the rest of his life.