Serena turned the truck into the alley that led to the back of the shops and breathed a sigh of relief. There hadn’t been a photographer or reporter to be seen the whole way home. It seemed, as Ritchie had predicted, they’d given up and gone home. Thank God for short attention spans, and frigid wintry nights.
‘You good?’ She glanced over at Ritchie, who’d been pin-drop silent the whole way home.
‘Yeah. Good.’ He unbuckled his seatbelt and took off the floppy hat. ‘Guess I don’t need this anymore.’ He tossed it onto the backseat.
‘Looks that way.’ Serena opened the car door and got out, the bang from the passenger side telling her that Ritchie was following suit. ‘Want a hot chocolate before bed?’
‘Nah. I’m bushed. I think I’ll just hit the couch.’
‘Okay. Cool.’ Doubt gnawed at Serena’s stomach. Ritchie didn’t look all that tired. In fact, he looked wide awake. Alert. The same way he used to look when he was on a creative high, except there was no frenetic energy bouncing off him. If anything he had the look of a man who was attending his own funeral and would do anything to get out of it.
She slipped the key into the lock, wincing as bright lights danced before her eyes. ‘What the hell? What’s going on?’ She shielded her eyes as the flashes continued.
‘Shit. Serena. Bloody hell. Shit. Open the door, quick.’ Ritchie pressed up against her, demanding. But not in any way that might have indicated he was interested in her body.
‘Go, Serena. Open the bloody door.’ He hissed into her ear.
Serena shook her head clear of the sparkles dancing in front of her eyes and did as she was told. She pushed the door open and found herself tripping over into the kitchen as Ritchie scuttled in behind her. She turned to shut the door to see a triumphant Tiffany Brown waving her camera in their direction.
‘Thanks, guys,’ she tittered. ‘Knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
Serena tried to muster up a retort, but Tiffany scarpered before words formed.
‘Bloody hell.’ She clenched her fists. ‘That woman doesn’t know when to stop.’
Ritchie pushed himself up off the floor and offered Serena a hand up. ‘That woman has pictures of me in girl’s clothing.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yes. Exactly.’ Ritchie ran his hand through his hair and released the bun, shaking his hair free. ‘What am I going to do? Can you imagine what the tabloids are going to do with those pictures once they get hold of them? I’ll be a laughing stock. “Rock Star in Touch with His Feminine Side.” “Ritchie Gets His Glad Rags On.”’ Ritchie braced his forearms on the marble bench top and brought his forehead to its surface. ‘Barry is going to kill me. My career is over. What the hell was I thinking coming here? This was a mistake.’
Serena’s veins, pulsing with angry hot blood just seconds before, cooled. Her heart rate slowed to a steady and dull thump. There it was. Ritchie Dangerfield in full Ritchie Dangerfield mode, thinking only about himself and what mattered to him. Not thinking his words could hurt as sure as if he’d thrown a length of barbed wire at her heart, then dragged it along its surface.
What’s worse, she could see the self-possessed closed-off attitude that had kept her in the cold, in the dark, for so many years, surrounding him again. She knew now it was a cloak of self-protection but it didn’t ease the pain of being shut out once again.
Serena turned from Ritchie and opened the pantry door. She needed to create. Chocolate had healing powers and she needed to soothe the freshly opened wounds that came with Ritchie’s admission that coming to Rabbits Leap, coming to find her, was a mistake.
‘I never asked you to come here, Ritchie.’ Serena pulled down her favourite of the couverture chocolates she’d chosen after weeks of tastings and note-takings. Dark chocolate that had won her over with its smoothness, its richness, but also for its hint of almost coffee-like bitterness. A tantalising combination that shouldn’t have worked, but came together so perfectly. Perhaps she’d chosen it to match her mood at the time of tasting. The bitter-sweetness of leaving what she’d thought had been her dream life to pursue a new life, a new dream – a more satisfying one. She plonked the bag on the bench, then rummaged around for almonds and macadamias.
She was nuts to believe for even a second that Ritchie could change, that he could prioritise their situation over anything else, over himself, his needs. Absolutely nuts – so she may as well make chocolate-covered nuts. She pressed the ingredients to her chest and brought them out to the kitchen, dumped them on the bench and switched on the electric melting pot.
Ritchie raised his head, his eyes hooded with remorse. ‘Oh my god, I’m an A-grade arsehole. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
Serena poured nibs into the pot and began to stir, impatient for the hard chocolate to transform into liquid silk. ‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry too. I should have sent you home the moment you showed up at my door. Nothing good could have come of you being here. And as it turns out, nothing has.’
‘Then why didn’t you? Why’d you not kick up more of a stink about me staying? You could have ignored me. Pretended I didn’t exist. I would’ve got the picture… eventually. But instead you engaged with me, allowed me into your space. God, mixed messages much…’
Serena picked up the pace of her stirring, agitation powering her movements. ‘Ritchie, when will you understand? You’ve always been my drug of choice. Unhooking myself from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was also the sanest. I didn’t want you here, but it’s just not that easy to tell you to go… and to mean it.’
A long exhale met her ears. ‘So where does that leave things? Where does it leave us?’
Serena didn’t answer. She couldn’t. They’d reached an impasse. She wasn’t going to budge, and if Ritchie did he could lose the one thing that meant more to him than she did. The thing that had kept him sane, kept him good, in the face of the pain and hurt his family had inflicted on him. She could no more expect him to leave music than he could expect her to leave the chocolate shop, the one thing she’d discovered that she was not only good at, but fulfilled her.
Ritchie moved to stand beside her. ‘Can I help with that?’ He tapped the end of the plastic faux-wood spoon.
Serena inched it away from his waiting hand. ‘I don’t know. You have to stir it vigorously. It can be hard work on your wrist.’
‘Serena, I’ve been alone for six months, I think my wrist can take it.’ Ritchie’s eyes twinkled as his lips quirked in good humour.
And just like that, the tension in the room dispersed.
‘Fine then.’ Serena passed him the spoon. ‘Just don’t screw it up or you’ll not be allowed to set foot in this kitchen again.’
‘I won’t. Scout’s honour.’ Ritchie held up three fingers, firmly pressed together.
Serena snorted. ‘Like you were ever a scout.’
‘Well I wore a scout scarf once. Found it on the side of the road on the way home from school. Tried it on for size, but it wasn’t me, so I took it off again. Still, those magical scarf-wearing seconds imbued me with a bit of honour. I’m sure of it.’
‘Less talking. More stirring.’ Serena flapped her hand in the pot’s direction, then returned to the pantry to find baking paper to lay the finished nuts on.
‘So what changed, Serena? What triggered the change in you? One minute you were happy. Happy to go along with things. Happy with us. The next… well, something went awry. And I’m still none the wiser.’
Serena stilled, her gut clenching as she recalled the chance encounter with a stranger, the humiliating conversation that had led to her choosing to make changes in her life for her own good.
Serena pulled the baking paper away from its roll and ripped a section off. If they were going to have a clean break, she was going to have to be honest. Put it all out there.
‘Remember that day when you were meeting with Barry? Ironing out things for the upcoming tour? Well that day I had an appointment to get some girl stuff checked out with the doctor.’
Ritchie paled, as his brow crinkled.
‘Nothing serious, Ritchie. It’s just stuff we girls get checked on the regular to make sure all is ticking along nicely. So I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room and I got chatting to a woman. One of those impeccably dressed, hair-coiffed, elegant-but-no-doubt-expensive jewellery-wearing types. She turned out to be nice. Really nice. Surprisingly open, actually. And she talked about how she had her own law practice and how she did charity work in her spare time.’ Serena leaned over and observed the melting nibs being swirled into the chocolate. Nearly ready. Good. She had a lot to get done before tomorrow. Christmas Eve. The shop would no doubt be busy with frantic shoppers looking to buy those last minute gifts.
‘And what? She offered her services as a lawyer should you ever need a divorce?’ Ritchie stopped stirring, his brow creasing as irritation flickered through his eyes.
‘Not at all. We didn’t talk about you, or us. It wasn’t something that came up.’ Serena smoothed down the edges of the baking paper as they threatened to curl up. ‘The thing is, she had this… this glow about her. Like her work gave her life meaning. Then she asked me what I did…’ Serena motioned for Ritchie to stop stirring, then grabbed a scraper, dipped it into the melted chocolate, and set it aside.
‘What are you doing?’ Ritchie cocked his head, his eyebrows arrowed together.
‘Checking to see if it’s ready to work with. See how it’s smooth and glossy? That means it’s ready to use. Tell me, Ritchie, how do you feel about playing with nuts?’ She kept her tone innocent, but her lips rebelled into a smirk.
‘Not my thing, sweet thing. You know that. But you, you go ahead. I won’t complain. As long as you’re playing with nuts in my general vicinity.’ Ritchie reached out and tugged at a loose curl.
Serena swatted his hand away. ‘Well at the rate we’re going I’ll be playing with nuts all night, so you might just have to get your hands dirty. Here, I’ll show you what we’re going to do.’
Serena opened the bag of dry roasted macadamias and dropped one into the melted chocolate. Taking a dipping fork, she smoothed chocolate over the nut, then scooped it up and sprung it up and down on the bed of liquid chocolate a few times before tapping and scraping excess chocolate off the edge of the pan to remove the tail. She then placed the finished macadamia on the baking paper, whipping the fork expertly away to the side so as not to leave any marks.
‘Oh, looks easy.’ Ritchie deadpanned. ‘Simple. Not difficult at all.’
‘It is easy. Honestly. Once you get the hang of it you’ll be knocking out a couple hundred in an hour.’
‘Doubt it.’ Ritchie shook his head.
‘I can do three hundred, maybe three hundred and fifty in a good hour.’
‘You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?’ Ritchie held his hand out.
Serena handed him a fresh fork. ‘Yes I am. There’ll be no singing for your supper here. I’ve heard you sing enough. You want to hide out while a fresh wave of paparazzi arrives trying to get a load of the new girlified Ritchie Dangerfield, then you’ll need to earn your keep. Now, follow what I do.’
Together they dropped macadamia nuts in, spread the chocolate over, brought them up from the silken chocolate, bounced them up and down, tapped, then placed on the parchment. Over and over again, in perfect rhythm.
‘I think you’ve got a touch of chocolatier in you, Ritchie. You’re a natural.’
‘I’ve a good teacher.’ Ritchie placed another chocolate macadamia on the paper. ‘A teacher who still hasn’t told me what went on to make her leave me for good. So this random chick asked you what you did, and…’
Heat blasted Serena’s cheeks, despite the cool air. ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. So ashamed of myself. Of who I’d become…’
Ritchie set his fork down and moved round the kitchen island to stand beside Serena. He placed his hand on her shoulder, let it rest there.
Serena closed her eyes, and saw the pristine white walls of the doctor’s waiting room. The piles of up-to-the-minute magazines. She could almost smell the aroma of expensive leather chairs, and the hint of antibacterial gel. ‘When she asked what I did I said ‘shop’. I tried to laugh it off. Make it a joke. But I knew she could see I was telling the truth. There she was with her meaningful life, and there I was with my frivolous, meaningless one.’ Serena shuddered, crossed her arms around her waist, and wished she could ward that memory away.
‘Oh man, that would’ve been the worst. I’m so sorry.’ Ritchie wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her to him in a side-hug.
‘The. Worst.’ A fresh wave of heat hit Serena’s cheeks. ‘The look on her face, like I was some freak. And the pity in her eyes. It made me realise right then and there I needed to do more, be more. That I never wanted to have a conversation like that ever again.’
‘And that’s when you decided that meant leaving me.’
Serena expected to hear bitterness, resentment. There was none. A simple statement of fact. The heat in her cheeks disappeared into her heart. Ritchie, despite all his self-obsession, all his ego, had always known when to be kind, when to listen, when to just be there for her. She’d forgotten that.
‘Not initially. In fact, not at all. I started off by deciding I needed some hobbies. That’s when I decided to stop touring, and signed myself up for the knitting course, which let’s be honest, I’m not great at. My Christmas jumper’s unravelling already. I attempted sewing, but I was even worse at that. Can’t sew a straight line to save my life. Then I walked into that chocolate shop, signed up for their lessons, and in chocolate I found my calling. And you know, it’s nice to know my ability to make chocolates is every bit as great as my ability to eat them.’ She let out a dull ‘ha’ of laughter.
‘But what pushed you away? What sent you home?’ Ritchie removed his arm from around her and angled his body towards her, so they were standing parallel, and close. So close she could see new whiskers of grey sprinkled through his otherwise dark stubble.
‘It was that final phone call between us.’
Ritchie looked down, and rocked back and forth on his feet, while his hands curled into fists. He remembered it as well as she did. But did he see what happened that night the way she did?
‘You’d been calling me night after night while you were on tour. Asking me each and every time to come to you.’
‘And you wouldn’t.’ The words were a whisper, but rumbled through the stillness of the room.
‘I wouldn’t. I held my ground. And that last call, you did something you’d never done before.’
Ritchie’s breath hitched in his chest. A silent shudder. ‘I turned into the person I never wanted to be. I disgusted myself that night.’
‘You’d never yelled at me before. Not once in our entire relationship.’ Serena dipped her chin. There was no way Ritchie was seeing the tears she could feel building. ‘I was used to being frozen out. Used to the silence that could go on for days. I could handle it, even if I didn’t like it. But being screamed at on the phone? Called a selfish cow…’
‘I’m so sorry, Serena. I know how little that apology means right now. It doesn’t even cover how I berated myself. How I wished over and over again I could take that moment back. How I despised myself for behaving like my father.’ He crossed his arms tight over his chest. Tucked his fists under his armpits. ‘How I hated myself. I still do. I should never have yelled. I should never have imposed my will upon you. Demanded you come when you didn’t want to…’
‘The dumb thing is, Ritchie, I nearly did it. I nearly gave up the business plan I was writing. Nearly quit chocolate making, to run to you. And it was then I realised the person getting in my way of being who I was meant to be wasn’t you… it was me.’
‘And that’s when you took off. Just like that. Without a word. Not that I can blame you. Not after how I behaved.’
Serena squeezed her eyes shut. Wished away the tears. But all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to stop the emotion that was begging to be released. ‘I did. I’m sorry. After fighting with my mother for half my life I couldn’t stand the idea of fighting with you every time you went on tour, every time I chose to stay home.’
‘You do that a lot, you know, Serena.’ Ritchie’s chest deflated. ‘You leave when things get tough. When you can’t see a way out. You did it when you were younger to your family. You moved to London, made it so you could stay there. Then you did it to me. Took off home, back to your family. And, again, you’ve done it. Your mother wanted you to stay on the farm, but you’d hatched an escape plan. Left her high and dry.’
Serena stomach twisted at the truth of his words. Ritchie was right. She didn’t want him to be. But he was. When things got tough, she bolted.
‘So, what does that make me? A coward? Or, as you said, perhaps rightfully, a selfish cow?’
‘It makes you someone who needs to stop running, who needs to face up to life when it gets too hard, who needs to not turn your back on those who love you.’
‘But Mum chokes me with her expectations. You hem me in with your wants, your needs…’ Serena closed her eyes and counted to three, trying to think straight. ‘You and Mum are two forces of nature, and I’m like a blade of glass being blown flat along the ground when I’m around you. Running is the only way I can get the space to think clearly.’
‘You? A blade of grass?’ Rumbling laughter filled the room. ‘You’re not grass. Remember when I went off the rails? You pulled me back in line. Wouldn’t put up with my excuses, my demands, my moaning and groaning. And if anyone came near me who might see me spiralling close to the edge, you sent them on their way. People knew not to mess with you.’
‘Well, if that’s the case why does that not extend to you and mum?’
‘Probably because you love us. You’ve got a big heart, Serena Hunter. And a soft one too. Combine that with that stubborn streak of yours and no wonder you’re so conflicted. You know what you want but you hate the idea of hurting anyone to get it, so you take off in order to not see your loved one’s hurt.’
Serena rubbed her heart. ‘Ooh, you’re not pulling punches.’
Ritchie touched her forearm with his fingertips. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I don’t know.’ The words came out a whisper. ‘Really. I’ve no idea. It sounds like I’ve a lifetime of running away to make up for.’
‘Not that, Serena. With the chocolates. What do we do with them?’ Ritchie’s fingers met Serena’s chin, lifting it so she met his gaze. ‘Do we let them set, then bag them up? Are there more chocolates to make?’
‘That’s what you’re concerned about? What to do with the chocolates?’
‘It’s what matters to you, isn’t it? Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. The shop’s going to be busy. We can’t have people coming into the store and walking out empty handed because the shelves are all but bare.’ Ritchie ran his thumbs under Serena’s eyes, swiping away her tears. ‘So, what happens next?’
Serena found a smile. ‘You really want to help? You could go to bed, you know. Get some rest. After what happened earlier you’re going to be inundated with calls. Barry’s going to lose his rag.’
‘I don’t care what Barry’s going to do. I care about what we’re going to do. Have you forgotten it’s also the Rabbits Leap Farmer of the Year Awards tomorrow night? Your big night. You need to look your best. And I’m still hitting that stage even if the tabloids are saying I’m a fan of dressing up in women’s clothing. In fact, I can see the appeal. It’s very comfortable.’ He spun round, letting his skirt fly out around him. ‘Despite the danger to my treasures.’
‘You’re amazing, Ritchie Dangerfield. You always were. Nothing ever got you down. Not for long anyway.’
‘Well I always had you by my side to keep me up. It’s time I returned the favour. So, again, I ask… what’s next?’
What’s next? Serena bit her lip as emotion coiled low in her belly. Longing. Desire. Craving. For the man standing before her who was willing to put his drama aside to help her achieve her dreams.
‘I don’t know how to make chocolates without you, Serena. But I’m willing to learn. I’m willing to try.’ Ritchie cupped her chin. His thumb ran over her bottom lip. ‘If you’ll let me.’
Serena inhaled, long and slow, breathing in the rich aroma. Damn chocolate. No wonder it was called an aphrodisiac. But it wasn’t the chocolate seeing her sway towards Ritchie. She knew that. It was his pure essence. The musk, the leather, the hint of salt that settled on his skin after a long day. And the way his eyes twinkled and his smile widened, drawing her in.
She took his free hand and pulled him towards her. Their hips meeting. Fusing. Pushing. His desire obvious against the soft cotton of her skirt.
‘What’s next is you come upstairs with me.’ She kissed his lips, soft. Tender. A promise.
‘Sleep. We need sleep. That’s what we agreed on, right?’ Ritchie grinned, his eyebrows raised as she dragged him towards the door, and up the stairs. That led to her bed.
‘You can call it whatever you like, Ritchie Dangerfield.’ She stuck her tongue out and was rewarded with a low and husky laugh. A kiss on the nape of her neck as she opened the door sent a white hot line of electricity down her spine, erupting in the lowest, most intimate, part of her body.
She pulled Ritchie into the lounge, then spun round to face him. Her hands roamed over his chest, relishing the way his nipples crinkled under her fingers. ‘We need to get this blouse off you.’
Ritchie took a step back, his hands finding the top buttons, and yanked, sending buttons flying in all directions across the room.
‘I really liked that blouse.’ Serena mock-pouted.
‘I’ll buy you a new one,’ he murmured into her neck as he kissed and licked. Slow. Deliberate. The heat deep down reaching tingling inferno levels. ‘Ten new ones.’
‘I love this better than the damn blouse,’ she gasped and pressed into him, wanting to feel his skin against hers. ‘It’s time you abandoned that skirt.’ She pushed it over his hips and let it fall to the floor. ‘Thank God for elastic.’
Holding onto his shoulders she walked him backwards into her room, towards the bed and pushed him onto it, crawling over top of him. Hovering inches away.
‘Who’s got too much clothing on now?’ Ritchie reached down and undid her jeans button, unzipped, then wiggled the trousers down, enough to get access.
Serena arched as he found her hot spot, and began to play. ‘Ritchie, God, slow down. It’s been forever.’
Ritchie grinned and continued to stroke her softly, then began rolling the pad of his thumb around and around. The way he knew she liked it.
Every movement, however slight, sent a new flush of molten heat low, causing muscles to tighten. Hotter. Harder. Until …
‘Really, Ritchie. Stop. I’ll…’ Waves of ecstasy rolled over her, rendering her speechless, apart from her cries of pleasure filling the room, until she peaked and collapsed onto Ritchie.
‘Damn you. That was too fast. Too easy.’ She grabbed his hands and brought his arms above his head, wiggling into him. Loving how he groaned at her teasing.
‘I can’t believe you’re angry about having an orgasm.’ Ritchie rolled his eyes. Serena thrust her hips against his. ‘And don’t stop doing that. Actually. I take that back. Do stop.’ He whipped her arms low and flipped them over so he was on top. Rising up, he shimmied her jeans and knickers off, then pulled his boxer briefs down and kicked them off. ‘That’s better.’ He lowered himself down and began to nibble and tease his way along the line leading from her belly button, up towards her décolletage, her neck, her mouth. ‘Delicious. God, I’ve missed you, Serena.’
Serena arched up as his fingers caught in her hair. His heart quickened, in perfect timing with her own, as they joined as one. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she breathed, lost to his touch, his scent, his voice. I don’t want to miss you ever again.
And just like that she was hooked, again.