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CHAPTER10
Peyton
After reading Chloe’s tweet, I wasn’t surprised that she would have to replenish her stock. I’d enlisted my sisters to do mine while I spent my day at the Shake Shack.
It was an easy process. My sister put the pre-measured ingredients into the commercial-grade machine I’d purchased second-hand. Poured them into cups, secured the lids, and put them in the freezer. It wasn’t rocket science.
As I headed to Chloe’s, I wondered if I would end up with the door slammed in my face.
“What are you doing here?” she growled suspiciously.
“Hey,” I shoved my hands in my pocket. I wanted to reach out and touch the hair falling out of her messy bun. If I released the tie, would her chestnut locks frame her cherub cheeks? She’d changed out of her Catherine’s Sweet Treats t-shirt and black shorts. The stained t-shirt stretched across her ample breasts, and faded yoga pants hugged her luscious curves.
Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. I thought I saw a flash of lust behind Chloe’s cautious stares for a mere second.
“I read your tweet and thought you could use an extra pair of hands,” I responded nervously.
“Ha,” Chloe spit out. “You want to help make ice cream for the competition,” she smirked. She tilted her head and narrowed her baby blues. Instead of anger and suspicion, I saw amusement and a hint of mischief.
“But are you the competition?” I asked. “You’ve admitted that the boardwalk could use another place similar to Catherine’s,” I reminded her. “And we did benefit from our little Twitter banter.” I hadn’t wanted to use the word war because I was never at war with Chloe.
“Interesting choice of words, banter. I like that,” Chloe admitted. She stepped to the side and granted me access to her world.
“I could use another set of hands.” Chloe blushed as she pushed me in the direction of an industrial size metal bowl. “This needs to be hand-mixed,” she explained as she handed me a large metal spatula and gave me instructions.
By the time we’d completed the batches of ice cream and filled her freezer for tomorrow, my arms were about to fall off. I was a physically fit athlete, but I had to admire the dedication it took for Chloe to keep Catherine’s Sweet Treats in business.
I helped Chloe load the massive dishwasher. The cleanup went quickly. The best part was sampling the fruits of our labor.
“Holy crap, this Cherry Bomb is the bomb,” I moaned as the sweet chocolate slid across my tongue, only to be woken with the tart burst of black cherries.
“It was a big hit today, along with the Tiger Stripes,” Chloe informed me. “The dark mint chocolate was close behind. However, I always have the hardest time keeping the vanilla in stock.” I was pleased that Chloe was comfortable talking about her day. Somewhere beyond her suspicions, Chloe Wainwright might be reconsidering if I was the enemy.
“I notice you use waffle cups instead of paper ones,” I pointed to the boxes sitting on the shelf above the freezers.
“Yes,” Chloe smiled. “I want to do my part to keep our beaches and ocean clean.”
“I understand, but is it cost-effective?” I question.
Chloe rolled her baby blues eyes. “Yes, I could order some cheap paper or plastic cups, but you can’t put a price on protecting the environment, Peyton,” she scolded.
“Unfortunately, if I want to make a decent profit, I have to go with the standard clear plastic cups,” I admitted. “So, yeah, I guess you can put a price on it.”
“I include the extra expense at the register. I haven’t had any complaints about my prices.” Chloe added, “It would be difficult for you to increase your prices after opening. Maybe you can consider going biodegradable next year.” She turned away to wipe the already clean countertop.
Why had Chloe suddenly turned shy on me? Had I insulted her by suggesting her use of the superior product wasn’t business savvy?
“I’m sorry if I offend you with my comment,” I offered. “Sometimes, my business mind outweighs my dumb jock brain.” I attempted to return the humor to our conversation.
“No, it wasn’t that,” Chloe answered with her back to me. “When I mentioned next summer,” she sighed heavily, “it reminded me that I might not be here,” she finished.
What? No Catherine’s Sweet Treats on the boardwalk?
It occurred to me that I had no clue about Chloe’s life goals. We were not friends. We were barely acquaintances. But that did not stop the attraction I’d harbored for the beautiful creature standing two feet away.
How well did I want to get to know Chloe Wainwright?
“Are you not moving to Tranquility?” I asked, fearing her answer was not the one I wanted to hear.
