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He laugh-scoffs. “We don’t call you the Queen of Toys for nothing. You’ve gifted sex toys to Rachel, Hazel, Juliet, and Fable.” He frowns. “But not me. So sad.”
Shit. Is that crossing a line with an employee, to give him one? But he’s a friend too. “Do you want one?”
“Nope. I want the champagne. But don’t even try to turn this around. Tell me all about this missing Command Performance,” he says, like he’s eating this story up with a spoon.
At least this conversation has taken my mind off The Chocolate Connoisseur offer still sitting on my desk at home. It’s too hard to think about the future of my shop and the right way to run it, when I have to deal with a missing dildo.
As I pluck the final caramel with a pair of tweezers, setting it delicately in the paper, I take a deep breath and explain more. “So last night while I was at Sticks and Stones, I ordered a new toy for one-hour delivery. An hour later I was home, putting on jammies when the package delivered notification from Risqué Business popped up on my phone. But when I left my room, Amanda had already disappeared into her bedroom, and there was no pink envelope from the shop waiting for me. Ergo…”
Kenji’s eyes spark with pass-the-popcorn delight as he clears his throat and tips his head toward the door. “I think that’s what happened to your order.”
A bell chimes. Like I’m watching a traffic accident in slow-mo, I turn to the store’s entrance.
Mister Droolworthy walks into my shop with easy confidence. He’s wearing well-worn jeans, a dark blue Henley, and the most satisfied grin. Maybe because he’s carrying a pink envelope as he holds open the door for a pack of other customers to go ahead of him because when it rains, it pours.
On the one hand, I’m relieved because I couldn’t quite believe my sister would take it. But on the other hand, I’m looking for a portal to another dimension.
That casual smile never leaves his too-handsome face as he hangs back, letting the other customers head to the counter first.
I straighten my shoulders and smile for the customers, hoping they’re fast and I can get this whole thing over with quickly. The first pair asks questions about my new line of bonbons in autumn colors, then the dark chocolate-covered blackberries in a rich purple shade from the Melt In Your Mouth line. Maybe I can talk to them the whole time and Mister D will get the message and drop off the dong, then be on his merry way without mocking me.
I spend the next few minutes bantering with them, as Kenji handles another customer.
Then they’re gone.
And Kenji flashes the biggest smile in the world at Mister D. “It sure looks like you have something Elodie wants badly,” he coos, grinning at the envelope.
I vow to kill him later.
Well, after he rearranges the schedule for the employees next week. And removes the peanut butter cups from their molds. And places our next Valrhona order since, as a chocolatier, our business is chocolate-to-confection, and Valrhona makes the best chocolate to use in all the recipes I’ve created.
Ugh. He’s too valuable to eighty-six.
As another group of customers comes in, Kenji slides past me with a wink, moving to help them at the other end of the counter.
Which means I can’t avoid Mister D anymore. He’s standing across from me. “Elodie Starling.” It’s like he’s having fun saying the name on the package. “I believe this is for you.” He dangles the pink envelope as if it’s a prize when really it’s a billboard advertising good girls with dirty desires.
My face isn’t just a flame. My whole body is red with embarrassment as I get a better look at the envelope at last. It’s ripped all along the end. “You actually opened it?” It’s not an accusation. It’s a quiet question, spoken like a mouse.
Where has all my confidence gone? Oh, right. It whooshed out the door five minutes ago, right along with my dignity.
“Not me,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Then who?”
“My grandma.”
I didn’t think this moment could get worse, but I was wrong. I close my eyes, deflated, then open them to say, “I’m…so sorry.”
But then, wait. I replay those words in my head. Did I just apologize for ordering a vibrator? Who am I? Am I a mouse or a flamingo?
A flamingo, dammit.
An unabashed sex toy aficionado too. I have a platinum account at the finest shop in the city. I have great orgasms I give myself, and I love them.
They’re the only sure thing in my life right now—a life that’s teetering with bills and questions and decisions I don’t want to face.
I lift my chin. “What I meant to say is thank you for returning this.” Then with my head held high, I reach for the envelope with pride. “In fact, I was definitely missing it last night.”
