Chapter Three
Greer
Even though I was busier than a bee the next week, my thoughts kept going back to the alpha I’d only met once and had a thirteen-minute conversation with.
“I don’t know what this is or where to put it.” My best friend Jarmin had been helping me nonstop. He’d taken a week off work and come to my rescue—the only one who ever had since my parents died.
The outside of the oversized box he carried was marked the Creamery, so I was pretty sure it was the new ice-cream scoops and buckets that inserted into the freezers to keep the doggie ice cream cold.
We’d stripped the carpet and wallpaper and painted everything with a fresh coat of mint green. The black-and-white checkered tile floors we’d installed gleamed, easy to clean in case one of our patrons had an accident. Cafe tables shaped like dog paws lined the walls so that people could set their pets on top while they both enjoyed treats. Hand-sanitizing stations were at all corners, and special cleanup supplies were ready. The place already smelled like an ice-cream store with a vanilla and sugar blast of scent every time we walked in.
Of course, it was nothing like the alpha’s scent from before, all homey and hygge.
“Right down here.” I set my hands on his shoulders and guided him to the display freezer where all of our treats would be kept. He put the box down and stretched, leaning backward. Jarmin was good-looking and pumped more iron than John Cena and while he was single, he was my friend and nothing more. In school, people had teased us that we would end up together. I didn’t think the doggie ice-cream shop was what they meant.
“I can’t get over the name.” He slapped my shoulder, and I barely contained the wince.
“What? It makes sense.” I shrugged, amused with my own perceived cleverness.
“Just One Lick? Why don’t you put an ad in Craigslist that reads Desperate Omega Seeks Hot Guy with Dog Named Gizmo.”
“Shut up!” I walked away but didn’t deny it. The name didn’t arise from desperation, but the sentiment rang true. My chest ached to learn more about him. His name was Tenn, but no one had mentioned a Tenn who lived around there, and I wasn’t about to just ask people willy-nilly. It seemed my man crush was a ghost.
We continued opening boxes and putting things away while Bea cackled and played with ingredients in the back room. We’d been able to keep the kitchen the way it was with the exception of buying a bigger glass-door fridge to view inventory. I’d used most of my savings to get this place redesigned, and we were opening in a week.
“Come taste this one!” Bea called from the back.
Jarmin’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands back and forth.
“Come on, the last one wasn’t that bad,” I whisper-yelled.
“It had walnuts in it. You know how I feel about walnuts.” Since we were kids, Jarmin had hated them. He puked one time after biting into a chocolate-chip-walnut cookie he’d thought was a regular chocolate chip cookie.
“No more walnuts! Get in here.” When Bea said jump, I asked how high. After all, this place was in deep without her.
“Okay, okay.”
“One more walnut, and I’m done. You’ll be on your own,” Jarmin murmured in my ear as we walked into the kitchen.
“This one I call FiDough. No raisins. No coconut. I know how you hate it.” She aimed the coconut comment at me.
She had two spoons ready for us. The texture and color looked correct. Jarmin thumped at one of the brown dots to see if it was soft like his nemesis the raisin.
“One, two, three,” we counted together, and then stuck the spoons in our mouths. The brown sugar and hint of honey hit my tongue first, followed by the creaminess of the dough and then the crunch of the tiny carob chips. Forget dogs, humans would beat our doors down for this stuff.
“Holy shit, this stuff is bank,” Jarmin said, moving to take another spoonful, but Bea slapped his hand.
“No cross-contamination in my kitchen. Greer, what do you think?”
I nodded, still having a mouth orgasm. “I’m thinking about shutting this whole operation down and taking it home.”
Jarmin rolled his eyes. “What else do you have?”
Bea pursed her lips, put the FiDough away, and brought out a bowl of orange-colored ice cream and shrugged as she set it on the metal workstation. “I like this, but I’m not sure. My mom used to make this for me when we were kids, right when the leaves started to turn. It was our old-school pumpkin-spice hot chocolate.”
We grabbed new, clean spoons and scooped up some. I could see a caramel swirl and some pecans sprinkled in before I stuffed it in my mouth.
This time, Jarmin looked like he was having the mouth orgasm. “It’s like autumn in a spoon.”
Bea breathed out and looked relieved, her shoulders not so tight. “But what should we call it?”
I thought about it, taking several guesses, but they were all shot down. Jarmin slammed his hand down on the table. “I’ve got it. Pumpkin Spike.”
Everyone high-fived and did their own happy dance. Inside, I still felt like something was missing. Like someone else should be celebrating with us.
Don’t be ridiculous, Greer. He probably forgot all about you.