Sweeter Than Candy (The Davenports 1)

“Perhaps I can help you.”

She narrows her eyes. “Because you drink a lot of tea, Asher?”

“Yes, actually. My mother came from England, and tea’s been a part of our upbringing in a way most Americans aren’t used to.”

Interest sparks in the depths of her dark brown eyes. “That must’ve been interesting.”

“It was. We’re a blend of European and America customs.”

“Hmmm.” She browses her menu. She’s nowhere near thawed, but she appears to be receptive to light conversation. That’s more than I’ve gotten over the past month.

“Tell me how a beautiful woman like you ends up in this job field,” Kane says from the spot he’s taken on her left.

She smiles. “Charmer. I don’t have a real answer. I always knew I wanted to help people, and being a nurse appealed to me. Once I was in the field, I drifted toward the pediatric side of medicine, and fell in love with helping new mothers.”

“Luckily for us,” Rachel says.

Clara chuckles. The warm sound is pleasing to my ears. She seems so genuine. It’s refreshing and intriguing. I’m drawn to her.

“You have a natural infinity for it,” Rachel adds.

“Thank you. That really means a lot.” She smiles at my sister sweetly, and I feel a jolt of jealousy. She’s never graced me with anything close to that expression. I want to experience being on the end of her sweetness. The thought startles me. I can’t afford to be into this girl. She’s too close to my family, and my heart isn’t ready for the pain only love can cause. Other than discreetly fulfilling a need, I avoid entanglements with women like the plague.

Chapter Two

CLARA

I walk into Jungle Jim’s excited about the cooking class. The international market has been around as long as I can remember. With sections dedicated to different countries, fresh bakery goods, meat, and the best price for produce around, it was a huge part of sticking to my meal budget and trying out new things. When I learned they were now holding cooking classes it went on my mini bucket list. Each year instead of resolutions I made a list of things I’d like to do. Today I’d be checking another one off my list of fifty things.

The singing Elvis lion still amuses me as much as it did when I was little. Part nostalgia and part plain old silliness, I watch as the animatronic creature dressed in a glittery teal pantsuit with slicked-back hair, clearly modeled after the King begins to strum his guitar. “All Shook Up” played from the speaker as the lion sang along.

The awe and laughter of the children watching is adorable. I move past him and the tempting candy to browse the large produce section. I mentally prep my weekly meals based on the best sale prices. After the lesson, I’ll swing around the store to do my shopping for the week. The Cereal Bowl Band, which is grouped around the yacht at the far end of the fresh fruit and vegetables, mimes along to the Beatles, “Hold Your Hand”. You haven’t lived until you see the Honey Bee, Lucky Charms Leprechaun, and the Trix Rabbit have a jam session on the bow of yacht that has the cast of Gilligan’s Island painted on the windows.

Slowly wandering through the aisle, I find the space where they’re holding the class for a Steakhouse Dinner at Home. I walk into the class and take in the homey space. The instructor, a blonde woman in her early fifties, is wandering around the room, engaging the people seated

around tables and standing in conversation. I recognize her from the website. Feeling slightly star-struck, I browse the tables for a kind face and a place to sit.

“Clara?”

The smooth baritone is familiar. Turning, I find Asher seated at a table in the corner.

“Asher?”

“I didn’t realize you liked to take cooking classes.”

“This is my first one.”

“You’ll love it. I’ve been to many here, and each one was excellent. Would you like to sit next to me?”

Saying no is impossible without appearing extremely rude. The glimmer in his gaze tells me he knows that.

“I would. Thank you.” He stands and pulls out the chair. I sit, and he pushes it in.

“I’m glad we get to spend time together outside of the house.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I wasn’t at my best the first time we met, and I feel as if I haven’t had the chance to redeem myself.”