Sebastian listens with keen interest to every word I say. I do the same as he talks about his role as Fiyero in a local production of Wicked.
“I’m amazed you find the time to do community theater,” I say in surprise.
“Told you, I love to act.”
“I thought that was the high school dream. Where do you perform?”
“At a playhouse in my neighborhood. The plays are in the fall. I’d love for you to come. They’re doing Moulin Rouge: The Musical. It should be interesting.”
“That’s six months away. So sure we’ll still know each other?”
“Positive. We’re friends. Cheesesteak preferences aside.” He winks.
I smile as I drink my wine and let the alcohol release the dopamine in my brain, making me feel relaxed and loose. At least, I’ll pretend it’s the wine and not the man I’m sitting with.
After dinner, we clean up and finish baking. As we melt the chocolate, I find us standing closer. His body sends a wave of heat my way, hotter than the stove.
When he sprinkles the sea salt, I tickle his ribs and force a salty mess on the ground.
As we eat it, he runs his thumb on my chin to clean a bit of chocolate.
Our evening is intimate, but that’s as intense as it gets. I pack him up a tin of brittle to take home and a bag of my homemade treats for Duke, which Sebastian takes as his cue to leave. He places his wineglass in the sink and then grabs his bag that I prepared for him.
“This was a wonderful surprise. Thanks for teaching me your grandmother’s recipe,” he says as he grins my way.
“I had fun.”
I open the door for him, and he stands for a beat before walking through. I follow him a step and watch as he turns around, leans down, and kisses my cheek.
“Good night, Amy.”
Sebastian walks to his car, which is parked in the alley, looking out of place in the dingy space. He turns the car on and backs up to the main road.
“Sweet dreams, Sebastian.” My words are said to no one as I close the door behind me and lock it. I turn the lights off in the kitchen and head into my room-slash-office.
As I curl into bed, Lady Featherington whimpers lightly from the floor.
I lean down and pick her up, tucking her beside me. Things might not be going my way one hundred percent, but I have my dog back, and because of that, I have everything I could ever want.
Well, almost everything.
Chapter Thirteen
“Five hundred.”
I look over at Shawn with a raised brow, wondering what he’s talking about.
“Five hundred truffle boxes for a corporate event,” he clarifies as he hands me an order form, which is basically his scribble on a notepad. “The order came in while you were out, apartment-hunting.”
I take it from him and stare at the request, blinking to make sure I’m reading it correctly. Five hundred chocolate truffle gift boxes at twenty dollars a box.
“Shawn, this is a ten-thousand-dollar order,” I say, trying to keep my mouth from hitting the floor but having a really hard time doing so.
“I know, boss! Your largest to date.” He slides across the room and snaps his fingers.
“Did you tell them we give a bulk order discount?”
“Nope.” He smiles as he looks at me, proud of himself. “And there’s a special request.” He raises his eyebrows at me, like he’s excited to tell me the rest. “They want you to create a chocolate tasting station at the event as well. Don’t worry; I already checked your calendar, and you’re free. Just like every weekend for the next forever.”
I give him a scowl and then look back at the notepad, which is difficult to read with his chicken scratch but I do my best. When I make out his words, I gasp at what they say and turn to him, placing my hand on the counter to brace myself. “You said the tasting table would be two thousand dollars?” I nearly yelp.
“Too little?” he asks, confused.
I walk over to the counter and put my bags down while staring at the paper. “I don’t know. I’ve never priced out a tasting table.” I squint at the paper and then point to it. “Does this say chocolate fondue?”
“You should call and confirm the details. I told the guy you’d call him back this afternoon. His name was Miles, just in case you can’t read that last part.” He moves to the boxing table, where he’s been packing artisanal chocolates all morning.
The paper says Miles but no further information.
“Miles? You mean, Miles from Blake, Fields, and Moore? Sebastian’s assistant?” I ask, still completely flabbergasted as to what’s going on but getting a hunch it’s not the dream order I’ve been hoping for.
“Yep, that’s the guy.” He snaps his fingers and then points at me.
My shoulders fall. “It’s just another one of Sebastian’s handouts. I’ll call back and tell them we can’t fulfill such a large order by next weekend.”
Shawn nearly drops the carton he’s holding while his eyes bug out. “Are you out of your mind, woman?”
“Are you talking back to your boss, man?” I give him sass back even though I’m not annoyed or mad.
Shawn means well. He merely is unaware of Sebastian Blake’s desire to do things for me for free. At this point, I think he feels guilty for how our brief relationship ended. I don’t need his charity or his pity.
“You’re crazy, Amy. That’s a huge order, and it could go a long way in growing this business.”
Placing the paper down, I try not to think about how that kind of order could help me right now as I search in my bag and take out the spices I purchased to test out some new flavors.
“I already have a game plan on how to grow the business. My loan is approved, so the website is being revamped, and I’m going to try some new products. Also, I’m doing a mass mailing campaign to the local networks and magazines and then branching out to the nationals. I’ve reached out to dozens of food blogs for their addresses to send them samples. My goal is to spread the love of Amy Morgana Chocolatier without having to hire a publicist.”
He grimaces while working, not looking up at me. “That sounds like you’ll be sending out approximately a hundred or so boxes of chocolate. Pretty pricey endeavor for someone who hasn’t gotten a check from the bank yet. Might be wise to take on a ten-thousand-dollar order to offset those costs,” he muses loudly.
I roll my eyes and put my tote away.
The back door swings open, and Charity comes in with a huge smile and a cardboard tray with three coffee cups. “Happy Thursday, everyone!”
Tying my apron on, I address my best friend, “You’re extra bouncy this morning.”
“The sun is out, and the flowers are blooming.” She hands me a coffee cup and then one to Shawn. “Thought I’d bring some java for my two favorite people.”
Shawn looks at me, concerned. “Drugs?”
With a laugh, I shake my head. “My money is on a new man.”
“For your information, I have a hot date this weekend with the barista at Love and Lavender.” Charity sneaks a piece of chocolate from the tray that Shawn is packing from and grins. “Delish! Is that the whiskey and sea salt? So good.” She tries to take another, but he swats her bangled hand away.