they’re so expensive.”
“They’re worth it,” she said with a toss of her head.
“Totally,” he agreed.
“You might have noticed that my chocolate has a light fruity undertone and doesn’t have that bitter, earthy taste some dark chocolate has.”
“You sound like you’re talking about fine wine again.” Dylan grinned.
“It’s kind of the same. Like wine, the terroir makes a difference.”
“Huh?”
“The terroir . The influence on taste from soil conditions, the weather, the amount of shade, fermentation and roasting. Even fruit or nut trees grown near the cacao trees can have a subtle impact on flavor.”
“I had no clue chocolate was so complicated.”
She smiled. “That’s why it’s so fascinating. Try one of the milk chocolate truffles.”
He picked one up and bit into it.
“Some chocolate manufacturers—not mentioning any names—” She coughed into her hand. “Matterhorn. Ahem.“ Dylan laughed. “—use lesser quality cacao to make milk chocolate, hiding the taste with extra sugar, vanilla and milk products. Some even add small quantities of malt in the chocolate as a flavor enhancer. But I don’t do that, I use the best quality beans, even to make my milk chocolate.”
Some customers stopped by and kept her busy for the next few minutes, purchasing the last of her chocolates.
“Now I feel silly sitting here with an empty booth,” Corey said with a glum look at the bare tabletop.
“Your place isn’t that far. It shouldn’t take Matt long to get there and back.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “How’s your foot today?”
“It’s okay.”
“Here, you should sit on my stool.” She slid off it. “I should have offered sooner, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay, really. You sit. If I get tired of standing on one leg, I’ll let you know.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and her tummy fluttered down low. “I’m pretty tough.”
“I guess you have to be in pretty good shape to be a pro surfer.”
He winked. “I’m in great shape. And any time you want to check that out, let me know.”
Heat swept into Corey’s cheeks and she pictured herself checking out Dylan’s shape. Oh boy.
“Are you all out of chocolates?”
Corey turned to look at the couple standing there who’d asked the question. She blinked. “I am for the moment,” she said “But I have more coming. If you’re still here in about ten minutes, check back.”
“Okay. We will.”
Several more customers came by and she told them the same story. “See,” one woman muttered to her husband. “I told you they were good. She sold out already.”
“Hmm. Could be a new marketing strategy,” Dylan murmured beside her.
She caught his twinkling eyes and laughed. “You know, you’re right,” she said. “They don’t need to know I sold out because I could only carry half as many on the bus as I usually do.”
“Matt have a key to your place?”
“Oh. Yeah. He does. I have one for his place too. You sure you don’t want to sit?”
“Yeah, okay. I am getting kinda tired.” They traded places, bodies brushing against each other as they did so, Corey tingling inside at the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his muscles. Dylan leaned his crutches against the table. Now they were closer to the same eye level, with him on the stool and her standing.
“That was fun last night,” Dylan said. “Matt has a great place there.”
“Yeah, it was fun.” They smiled at each other.
“You should come over tonight. Matt’s going to grill some steaks.”
She remembered the invitation extended before Matt had gotten distracted by her piece-of-crap car. “I guess. I won’t have wheels, though, to get there and home.”
“Here you go.” Matt arrived and set down a huge cardboard box, then helped her unpack the smaller boxes and arrange them on her table. Customers immediately began lining up and she was kept busy dealing with them, talking to her customers about the different
“They’re worth it,” she said with a toss of her head.
“Totally,” he agreed.
“You might have noticed that my chocolate has a light fruity undertone and doesn’t have that bitter, earthy taste some dark chocolate has.”
“You sound like you’re talking about fine wine again.” Dylan grinned.
“It’s kind of the same. Like wine, the terroir makes a difference.”
“Huh?”
“The terroir . The influence on taste from soil conditions, the weather, the amount of shade, fermentation and roasting. Even fruit or nut trees grown near the cacao trees can have a subtle impact on flavor.”
“I had no clue chocolate was so complicated.”
She smiled. “That’s why it’s so fascinating. Try one of the milk chocolate truffles.”
He picked one up and bit into it.
“Some chocolate manufacturers—not mentioning any names—” She coughed into her hand. “Matterhorn. Ahem.“ Dylan laughed. “—use lesser quality cacao to make milk chocolate, hiding the taste with extra sugar, vanilla and milk products. Some even add small quantities of malt in the chocolate as a flavor enhancer. But I don’t do that, I use the best quality beans, even to make my milk chocolate.”
Some customers stopped by and kept her busy for the next few minutes, purchasing the last of her chocolates.
“Now I feel silly sitting here with an empty booth,” Corey said with a glum look at the bare tabletop.
“Your place isn’t that far. It shouldn’t take Matt long to get there and back.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “How’s your foot today?”
“It’s okay.”
“Here, you should sit on my stool.” She slid off it. “I should have offered sooner, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay, really. You sit. If I get tired of standing on one leg, I’ll let you know.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and her tummy fluttered down low. “I’m pretty tough.”
“I guess you have to be in pretty good shape to be a pro surfer.”
He winked. “I’m in great shape. And any time you want to check that out, let me know.”
Heat swept into Corey’s cheeks and she pictured herself checking out Dylan’s shape. Oh boy.
“Are you all out of chocolates?”
Corey turned to look at the couple standing there who’d asked the question. She blinked. “I am for the moment,” she said “But I have more coming. If you’re still here in about ten minutes, check back.”
“Okay. We will.”
Several more customers came by and she told them the same story. “See,” one woman muttered to her husband. “I told you they were good. She sold out already.”
“Hmm. Could be a new marketing strategy,” Dylan murmured beside her.
She caught his twinkling eyes and laughed. “You know, you’re right,” she said. “They don’t need to know I sold out because I could only carry half as many on the bus as I usually do.”
“Matt have a key to your place?”
“Oh. Yeah. He does. I have one for his place too. You sure you don’t want to sit?”
“Yeah, okay. I am getting kinda tired.” They traded places, bodies brushing against each other as they did so, Corey tingling inside at the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his muscles. Dylan leaned his crutches against the table. Now they were closer to the same eye level, with him on the stool and her standing.
“That was fun last night,” Dylan said. “Matt has a great place there.”
“Yeah, it was fun.” They smiled at each other.
“You should come over tonight. Matt’s going to grill some steaks.”
She remembered the invitation extended before Matt had gotten distracted by her piece-of-crap car. “I guess. I won’t have wheels, though, to get there and home.”
“Here you go.” Matt arrived and set down a huge cardboard box, then helped her unpack the smaller boxes and arrange them on her table. Customers immediately began lining up and she was kept busy dealing with them, talking to her customers about the different
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