Small-Town Hearts by Ruth Logan Herne Read Free Book Online

cooling toffee. An interesting thought crept into Danny’s head, of how cool it would be to do candy demonstrations like this at the tribute store, to show people the origins of his company, the skills required before automated machinery replaced the hands-on techniques he’d just witnessed. He stayed silent a moment, watching them work, then cleared his throat.
    â€œYou’re still here.”
    â€œWatching and waiting.”
    She sighed, just enough to let him know she wanted him gone. “What?”
    â€œDo I need to call the electric company and have things put in my name?”
    â€œOh.” She paused, chagrined, as if she’d been rude by ignoring him. Which she had, of sorts, but from what he’d over heard, she had good reason to shy away from men whoappeared too good to be true. Although he had to seriously doubt the intelligence of the locals if they took one look at the incredibly delightful woman before him, her curly hair somewhat tamed in a crocheted hairnet, and her gold-plaid floor-length dress a nod of appreciation to simpler times. He almost felt the comfort of that when he was in her presence. Almost.
    She turned his way once the pot was empty, set it in a big, deep utility sink, turned on the hot water to melt the sugary coating and moved his way. “Sorry. I should have told you that. They’ll send the bill to me and I’ll pass it to you. For long-term leases I transfer it to the tenant’s name, but there’s no sense doing that for eight weeks. Is that all right?”
    â€œIt’s fine.” She had a smear of milk chocolate along her lower cheek, and her apron bore similar traces of her work. The dress, from what he could see, appeared spotless. He waved in that direction. “Won’t you get that messed up back here? In the kitchen?”
    She nodded and shrugged. “Necessity. Women in the eighteen hundreds didn’t have the choice of wearing blue jeans and pullovers. They had to deal with all this, and when I wait on customers I like to be in costume. That helps steer conversation to candy making like it was.” She arched a brow and lifted a shoulder. “They learn more, then buy more.”
    â€œCrafty.”
    She nodded, opened the screen door and stepped out onto the small back porch. “Yes and no. I really like teaching, it’s in my blood, but I love candy making. I started doing this as a child and it comes easily to me. This way I can combine the two. And I do freelance work at the Genesee Country Museum in Livonia, too. For their special weekends we do candy-making demonstrations on-site. People love it.”
    He could envision that, no problem, seeing her like this, in her candy kitchen, comfortable in her element. On impulsehe reached out his left hand and used his thumb to wipe away the dab of chocolate.
    She stepped back, startled out of her comfort zone.
    He raised his hand. “You had chocolate on your cheek. Well, chin, actually.”
    â€œYou could have just told me.”
    He grinned and put up both hands, palms out, as if surrendering. “More fun this way. So…” The look on her face told him a change of subject was in order. He took the hint. “I’ve moved in and I’m grateful for the chance to be out of the motel. Since we’re in fairly close proximity—”
    Her gaze puckered, purposely.
    He chose to ignore the chagrin. “And we’re going to see one another regularly…”
    She mock-scowled, exaggerated for his benefit, a look that said, Get to the point, bud, I’ve got work to do…
    â€œI thought I’d ask you to please let me know if I do anything to disturb you. I don’t want to be a thorn in your side, and since my name is Daniel and not Tom, Dick or Harry—”
    A flush mounted her cheeks.
    â€œâ€”I’ll do my best to stay on my side of the Great Divide. Okay?”
    She sighed, looked like she was struggling