Sugar And Spice (Main Street Merchants Book 7) Read online

  Sugar and Spice

  Main Street Merchants Book Seven

  by Paige Timothy

  Because we all have something to be thankful for.

  My thanks to Jaclyn and Laura, for their brainstorming help, and to my beta readers—Amy, Cissie, Erin, Renee, Mary, Meisje, Melissa, Nancy, and Shelby.

  Cover design copyright © 2017 by Jenni James

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2017 by Paige Timothy

  Table of Contents:

  Map of Aspen Ridge

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Map of Aspen Ridge, Colorado

  Chapter One

  Sloane glanced up from the cash register and smiled. It was the day after Halloween, and the painters who decorated all the windows along Main Street for the holidays had just finished putting the finishing touches on their “Happy Thanksgiving” banner. The diner looked great.

  She loved this time of year—with Aspen Ridge being a skier’s ultimate destination location, all the stores went bananas with decorations and Christmas music and the scents of cinnamon and pine. They had a giant tree-lighting event in the park the evening after Thanksgiving, and the children dressed up as snowflakes and danced around the tree as thousands of tiny bulbs were lit.

  When she first came to Aspen Ridge and took a waitressing job at this diner, she’d thought she’d be here six months, tops. With so many hot guys working in the stores up and down Main Street, not to mention the hot guys who came through on vacation, surely she’d hit it off with someone. It was a numbers game, right? Meet enough people, and you’re bound to fall for one of them? But as time passed and nothing happened, she wondered if this really had been such an awesome idea—more like, doomed to failure, the story of her life.

  Her mother urged her weekly to come home to Farmington, New Mexico. But as much as she loved the red rocks of Farmington, she knew her path was leading her elsewhere, and she just needed to figure out where that was. The only thing she did know was that she wanted marriage and a family. That was what she’d envisioned her whole life, and now she was on the brink of twenty-eight with no matrimony in sight.

  She couldn’t complain too much, though. Except for the minor detail of the missing love of her life, she was happy. Aspen Ridge was a great small community, and she had friends here, good friends. And some were guy friends. They just weren’t the kind who turn into marrying friends.

  “Order up,” Eddie barked, and Sloane blinked. How long had she been standing there, zoning out? Too long, that was for sure. Any time she took to wander down that road was too long. She was making the most of her life now—she had a cute apartment, and her customers loved her, and Eddie? Well, Eddie was a gem and a half, and she was one of the few privileged enough to know it.

  “Thanks, Eddie,” she said as she took the plate of lasagna off the ledge of the pass-through window and placed it on a tray. Then she added the garlic bread and side salad and carried everything over to the table in the corner, where she served it to the gentleman still shivering from the brisk wind outside. “I’ll be right back with a refill on your coffee,” she told him.

  The bell over the door jingled as she crossed the floor with her coffee pot, and she glanced at the man who’d just entered, his collar turned up against the cold. “I’ll be right with you,” she said, and he nodded his thanks.

  She refilled her customer’s mug and then turned back to the newcomer. “Hi there. Would you like some coffee too?”

  “Yes, please,” he said, taking a seat at the counter. “As hot as you can make it.”

  She raised her pot. “Came off the heat ninety seconds ago.”

  “Perfect.”

  She filled him a mug, then watched with amusement as he added four creamers and six cubes of sugar. “You know, if you don’t like the taste of coffee, you can always drink something else,” she commented.

  “True, but this will warm me up faster than anything.” He took a sip, then placed his wool fedora on the counter. Without his hat, Sloane was able to get a better look at his face. He was probably around thirty-five, with sandy-blond hair and serious eyes. He was a stranger to her—must be new or just passing through because she knew everyone in town. That wasn’t hard in a place the size of Aspen Ridge.

  He finished his coffee, then reached in his pocket and tossed a five on the counter. “Thank you. Now, can you point me to Frannie’s?”

  “You aren’t going to join us for lunch?” Sloane asked, a little bit of a tease in her voice. Not everyone was into diner food, but Eddie’s cooking had always been a cut above, and she often felt he didn’t get the credit he deserved.

  “Another time, maybe. I have business at Frannie’s.” He looked at her expectantly while he put his hat back on.

  “It’s straight up Main Street and on the other side of the road. It has a nice awning hanging over the sidewalk. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and took a step away, then seemed to think better of it and turned back. “I’m Chad Avery, the new chef at Frannie’s.”

  “Oh, you’re the new chef. Welcome. I know Frannie has been looking forward to your arrival. I’m Sloane.” She shook the hand he offered. “Just one second, and I’ll get your change.”

  “Keep it,” he said. “And maybe I’ll see you around.”

  When he left, a blast of cold air came with him, and Sloane shivered. Fall was hitting with a vengeance.

  “Who’s the guy?” Eddie asked through the window.

  “New chef over at Frannie’s.”

  “What do you think?”

  Sloane wasn’t sure. She watched Chad stride down the sidewalk, his coat obviously expensive, trying to decide if he was confident or arrogant. First-day jitters, maybe? Getting ready to prove himself to his new boss? “Jury’s out,” she said at last. “He’s not as easy to read as some folks.”

  Eddie grunted, and Sloane had to agree.

  ***

  Toby Sands took the edge of the pure-white tablecloth and flipped it, bringing the fabric to settle perfectly on the table. He then moved on to the next, Sage coming behind him to place the centerpieces, and Chloe behind her to lay out the napkins. Then they’d all circle back to arrange the silverware. They had a one-hour break between the lunch and dinner shifts when only the small dining room off to the side was open—if it could be called a break. The time was spent cleaning, resetting the room, and making sure everything was up to Frannie’s standards.

  The door opened and a tall man came in. Before he approached anyone, he hung his coat and hat on the stand near the door and surveyed the room, nodding once or twice.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” Toby said, setting down his last tablecloth and moving to grab a menu. “
Please follow me and I’ll get you seated.”

  “I’m not here to eat,” the man said. “I’m Chef Avery.”

  “Oh, hello, Chef. I’m Toby,” he replied, putting the menu back on the hostess stand. “We were told you were coming. Let me show you to the office.”

  Toby motioned toward the hallway leading off the lobby, and they started walking. “We’re glad you’re here,” he said. “Our sous chef has been holding things together since Chef Marco left, but things haven’t been quite the same.”

  “And what’s your position here?” Chef Avery asked.

  “I’m a waiter. I also help out in the kitchen from time to time. Salads, mostly.” Toby paused outside the office door and gave a quick rap with his knuckles. Then he opened the door. “Frank, Frannie, Chef Avery’s here.”

  The two owners of the restaurant stood from their desks and greeted the newcomer, and Toby stepped back out into the hallway and closed the door.

  “Was that the new chef?” Andrew, the sous chef, asked when Toby stepped back into the dining room.

  “Yep.”

  “Thank goodness. I mean, promotions are good, but when you’re not ready for them . . .” Andrew shook his head. “I’m going to be glad to turn the kitchen over to someone with a little more experience.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, man. You’ve done a good job.” Toby clapped Andrew on the shoulder as he passed. The girls had already spread out the last tablecloth, so Toby grabbed some silverware. “And this’ll look great on your resume.”

  “I guess. I’m just glad it’s over.” Andrew headed back into the kitchen, and Toby finished up the final setting.

  Fifteen minutes later, Frank and Frannie, the elderly couple who owned the restaurant, called everyone together. The staff stood at attention at the top of the dining room, all wearing crisp white shirts and black pants.

  “Everyone, we’d like you to meet Chef Chad Avery, who will be taking over the kitchen,” Frank said, motioning toward the chef, who gave a slight bow. “He’ll be making some changes to the menu, but until we have a chance to create that menu and order in the new ingredients, he’ll be working with what we have, so tonight’s special remains the same as planned. Andrew?”

  Andrew took a step forward.

  “Chef Avery, this is Andrew, our sous chef. I think you’ll find that he’s a very capable assistant.”

  Chef Avery looked Andrew up and down. “We’ll see,” he replied, giving a slight sniff.

  Toby raised an eyebrow. What was that all about?

  “These other fine young men and women are the wait staff. They’re all highly trained and eager to do a good job,” Frank continued, not responding to the chef’s little comment, which was probably just as well.

  Chef Avery didn’t reply, but just gave a sharp nod.

  “All right, let’s get ready for dinner. Andrew, will you show Chef Avery into the kitchen and help him get familiar with where things are kept, and then fill him in on tonight’s special?”

  Andrew nodded. “Of course. Please come with me, Chef.”

  As Toby moved around the kitchen helping make sure everything was in order, he couldn’t help but overhear Chef Avery’s complaints. The knives were in the wrong spot, the stove was far too small, the fridge was a nightmare . . . Andrew nodded with each statement, promising that changes would be made. At one point, he turned to Toby and gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

  “Toby, time for your break,” Frannie said a moment later, sticking her head in the kitchen.

  Toby grabbed his coat and left, more than ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the restaurant and sit in the park with his sandwich. He couldn’t blame Chef Avery for wanting things changed—the man was used to doing things a certain way, and he’d be able to work faster if he knew where everything was and didn’t have to stop to remember. Things would level out in a few days. He hoped.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning dawned bright and crisp, just like every fall morning should.

  “All right, you lovebirds, what’ll it be?” Sloane paused by the table where Logan and Laurie sat. They had to be the cutest couple—they were both dark, with blue eyes, and they looked like they’d just stepped out of a magazine ad. They were getting married in January, and it seemed like everyone in Aspen Ridge was somehow invested in the successful outcome of this marriage, like these two were setting the stage for hundreds of other happily-ever-afters to follow.

  Logan glanced away from Laurie. “Hey, Sloane. I’ll take your pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes and black coffee, please.”

  “Good choice,” Sloane said. “Laurie?”

  “I’ll have the French toast with a pumpkin spice latte,” Laurie added.

  Sloane grinned. “Don’t you love this time of year—all this pumpkin goodness? I swear, I walk in here and I just want to drift away on the smell.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but some people don’t like pumpkin spice.” Laurie leaned forward and whispered, “There’s even a meme about it on Facebook.”

  “No!” Sloane feigned shock. “Well, if you ever meet one of them, send them to me. I’ll put the love in them.”

  “You’ve got it.” Laurie flashed her a smile, then went back to gazing into Logan’s eyes. Sloane had to hide a smirk as she walked away.

  “Here ya go, Eddie. Just when you were getting bored.” Sloane hung up the ticket and twirled the order wheel around so he could see it. He gave a grunt as he read it over, and she set to work pouring the coffee and grabbing the latte. The two of them had a comfortable routine after these last couple of years working together.

  The door opened again, and Toby walked in. At least she thought his name was Toby—it might be Tony. She’d only seen him a few times before, but she sure didn’t mind seeing him again. He was pretty dang cute.

  “Hey there. Choose a seat, and I’ll be right with you.” She delivered the hot drinks to Logan and Laurie, then walked over to Toby’s booth. “Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute to decide?”

  “Well, what I want is a week-long vacation in some tropical paradise, but I don’t suppose that’s on the menu.” His smile was endearing, but a little bit pained.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not, and if it were, we’d probably be sold out. Anything else? Can I start you with some coffee?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  She grabbed a cup and set it in front of him. “Careful—it’s super hot.”

  “Just the way I like it. How about your bacon and eggs platter with a short stack of pancakes?”

  Sloane jotted that down. “I’ll be right back.”

  She delivered Logan and Laurie’s food, then wiped down the counter while she waited for Toby’s. Tony’s. Whatever. She kept an eye on him as she worked, wondering what had him so down. Well, she had two choices. She could keep wondering and possibly get it wrong and then spend the rest of her life confused, or she could just ask him. And since she was not the slightest bit shy ever, and since it was pretty much her job to talk to her customers, her choice was easy.

  She slid his two plates in front of him, then rested her hand on the table. “It’s Toby, right?”

  He seemed surprised. “Yeah, it is. How’d you remember that?”

  She decided to pretend to be awesome and leave out the fact that her brain had given her a fifty-fifty chance. “It’s my superpower. So listen—you seem a little down. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Work’s just getting to me this week.”

  “Ah. One of those weeks. Where do you work?”

  “I’m a waiter down at Frannie’s.”

  “What a coincidence! I’m a waitress at this diner!”

  He smiled, lighting up the whole place. Wow, she’d have to crack dumb jokes more often if she was going to get rewarded like that.

  The chef she’d met the previous day flickered through her mind, and she wondered if he had anything to do with Toby’s glum mood. She’d be willing to bet on it.r />
  “Well, I tell you what. Eddie’s been making salted caramel cheesecake, and it’ll be ready this afternoon. If you swing by, I’ll fix you up with a piece on the house. Guaranteed to cure any ills.”

  “That’d be great. I’m working from two to ten, though—maybe on my break? That’ll be around five.”

  “Perfect.” Sloane got off at four, but he was worth sticking around for, and it’s not like she had oodles of exciting things to do waiting for her at home.

  “Great.” He gave her a nod, and she realized that he’d probably like her to go away so he could eat his breakfast.

  “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Thankfully, a few more customers came in to save her from the embarrassment of backing away and pretending that she had some task to do … over there somewhere. It had been too long since she’d been on a date, and her social awkwardness was showing.

  Wait . . . a date? Why had that word popped into her mind? No one was going on a date. They were just discussing cheesecake. That was all. She should just calm herself right down.

  She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Eddie was sitting on the stool they kept in the corner by the fridge. That was kind of odd—he never sat down while he was in his kitchen. He even took his breaks in the office. She’d once heard an urban legend that President Reagan never took his suit coat off while he was in the Oval Office out of respect for the place. It was kind of the same thing.

  “Eddie?” She stepped into the kitchen and put her hand on his shoulder. He seemed a little out of breath. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, shrugging his shoulder to nudge her hand away. “I’m an old man, Sloane. Can’t I get a little rest from time to time?”

  “Of course you can.” She glanced around to see that the meal she’d just ordered was in progress, and nothing was burning. He seemed to have it under control, so she wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. “Let me know when it’s ready.”