Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) by J. Lynn Rowan Page A

museum curator. He was the one who convinced me to do it, knew I needed to do it. They both promised to save space for me whenever I wanted to visit. I couldn’t see myself ever going home to New York, but Sadie and Ryan had my back in Georgia. I would be okay on my own in Savannah.
    He reaches across the table and covers my hand. “You’re not a pushover. Sadie’s damn lucky to have a friend like you.”
    My smile wobbles a bit, and the waiter’s appearance to take our drink order provides a much needed shift in focus. Once the waiter moves on, Ryan closes his menu and rests one elbow on the table, propping his chin in his palm.
    “So, how’s Tess these days?”
    “Oh, Tess is Tess. Assertive and driven as ever. She’s had some good luck the past couple months with weddings and other events around the Historic District.” I give him a quick rundown of the highlights, capping it off with the Telfair Academy shindig we catered a couple weeks ago. I can’t help sneaking in the tidbit about my lemon squares.
    The waiter returns with our drinks and disappears with our dinner order.
    “Sounds like you’re getting some experience under your belt for when you start your own business,” Ryan says.
    Instead of answering, I take a tentative sip of my white Zinfandel.
    He leans back, studying me. “Okay, you’ve talked about opening a bakery before. What’s with the avoidance?”
    The stemware clinks against the edge of my bread plate as I set it down. “Yeah, I’ve talked about it. Just like people talk about climbing Mount Everest when there’s no possibility of it ever happening. I love baking, but the business end of the idea doesn’t appeal to me at all.”
    “You never mentioned that part.”
    I shrug, dipping one fingertip into my water goblet and running it around the rim of my wine glass. “Nobody ever asks, honestly. I keep making comments about not having startup money or the right marketing savvy, and everyone just assumes I’m being modest or timid.”
    “Ever thought about going into business with Tess, as her partner? Hasn’t she wanted to expand the bakery for a while now?”
    The wine glass sings as my fingertip makes one final orbit. “Yeah. She’d like to offer breakfast and lunch during the week, maybe brunch on the weekends. It would mean either finding a bigger retail space or renovating her current location, hiring more staff . . .” I wipe my finger on my linen napkin. “I don’t know if she’s got the resources to make that happen.”
    “So, what do you want to do? I mean, long term plans. Working for Tess pays the bills. But what do you really want to do with your life?”
    “Really?” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “I want to get a Master’s degree in history and land a job with the Georgia Historical Society.” I spread my hands on the pristine white tablecloth. “Something that will let me research and educate. With time to work at Tess’s bakery on the side. That’s what I really want to do.”
    He lets out a short whistle. “Well, then. Why don’t you do it?”
    I select a warm roll from the basket in the center of the table and sit back. “Again, money is the biggest issue. Graduate school carries a higher price tag than undergraduate work. You know that, you already have a master’s degree.” A glob of butter clings to my knife as I point it at him. “Which you do nothing with, by the way.”
    Our salads arrive and Ryan twirls his salad fork between his fingers for a moment. “My firm doesn’t get much call for historic preservation. The conference I’m here for is the first chance in, oh, three years to work that angle. But I guess you could say civil engineering pays the bills, so I don’t worry about the historic preservation so much.”
    Something in his tone tips me off. Have I sniffed out the edge of the breakup iceberg? “And we need to pay the bills.”
    It’s not time to play super sleuth, so I get him talking about his