Sweet Surprises by Shirlee McCoy Page A

Byron’s granddaughters complained about my big mouth. Give me a minute and I’ll bring you the biscuits and gravy.”
    â€œCan you put them in a carry-out container? I don’t have a ton of time.” And, she’d want to bring some of them home for later.
    â€œNo problem.” Angel walked into the kitchen, leaving Brenna with black coffee and a thought that she never would have even considered before.
    Laurie and Byron?
    She couldn’t imagine Byron with anyone other than her grandmother. He and Alice had been a perfect team, but Alice had been gone for five years, and Byron was still young enough and healthy enough to want something more than to be alone.
    Why hadn’t she thought about that before?
    Maybe because she’d been too caught up in the mini-drama that her life had become.
    â€œThings change,” she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.
    â€œExcept when they don’t.” River dropped into the seat beside her, his legs encased in faded denim, his white long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbow. He hadn’t shaved and black stubble shadowed his jaw.
    God, he was sexy.
    And handsome.
    And every single thing Brenna needed to avoid.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, and he gestured to the counter, the pictures on the wall, the old diner tables that had been there for as long as Brenna could remember.
    â€œThis place looks exactly the same.”
    â€œThings like this should never change,” she responded, and he smiled, an easy gentle smile that made a tiny little seed sprout in her stomach.
    She felt it there—new and fragile.
    It felt like....
    Happiness?
    Hope?
    Excitement?
    â€œYou’re a romantic, are you?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I’m practical. If the diner changed, people would stop coming. They’re here for the food, but they’re also here for the memories, for the connection to the past that they feel when they sit in a booth they’ve sat in dozens of times before.”
    â€œYou are a romantic,” he confirmed, his eyes looking straight into hers, and she could swear he could see whatever it was she felt, whatever new and fragile thing she was hiding.
    â€œAnd you’re out and about early.” She changed the subject, and his smile broadened.
    â€œIt’s nearly nine,” he pointed out, and she felt young and foolish. Which only added to the all-around foul mood she’d been in since she’d ruined her first batch of Lamont family fudge at 5:38 that morning.
    Not River’s fault, so she took a deep breath, tried on a smile that felt more like a scowl. “I guess it is. I was working. I must have lost track of time.”
    â€œFirst day on the chocolate job, right?” He reached over, rubbed a smudge of chocolate from the back of her hand.
    She felt that one little touch all the way to her toes.
    Her cheeks were hot, and she knew they were red, but she’d be darned if she was going to act like a schoolgirl with a crush. “That’s right.”
    â€œThat explains it then. Kitchen work will make anyone lose track of time.”
    â€œYou spend a lot of time in the kitchen?” she asked.
    â€œI own a couple of restaurants in Portland.”
    â€œI guess that explains the broken dishwasher emergency,” she said, and he nodded.
    â€œI’ve got some good managers, but they like to call me when things like that happen. Which is a little too often for my liking.” He lifted her hand, studying a smear of fudge that decorated the side of her wrist. “Looks like you and the chocolate weren’t getting along.”
    â€œChocolate. Fudge. Peanut butter. Caramel. You name it, I fought with it this morning.”
    â€œAnd now you’re taking a break before going back to the battle?” He still had her hand, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of his skin. It reminded her of things she’d be better off