Best Served Cold

After dinner last night, I’d spent the evening emptying my bank account purchasing all manner of things. I’d never spent three thousand dollars so quickly in my life. New chairs, new lights, new fixtures, new storage jars, and display boards. I’d even ordered a huge new display board for behind the counter for the menu. I planned to send it to the sign shop in town for them to finish up.

I held the sign against the window with my elbow while I fumbled with the roll of tape. Of course I couldn’t find the end—that was how it always worked, wasn’t it? Damn tape. I hated tape. Couldn’t I just find something to tack it there with?

Ugh.

I leaned my ass against the sign so I had both hands completely free to wrangle the tape.

The door to the store opened, the damn chime clanging.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re—” My words died on my tongue when I looked at the man standing there.

Chase Aarons, with his stupidly thick dark brown hair and bright blue-green eyes. With his stupid stubble over his chiseled jaw and his stupid white t-shirt that showed off his tanned muscles.

“Need a hand?” he asked, nodding toward the poster with a twinkle in his eye.

Not from you, I wanted to say.

I said nothing. Just stared at him.

“What? You can’t even accept my help for the five seconds it would take to tape that sign on the window?”

No.

No, I couldn’t.

I went back to finding the edge of the tape. After a few seconds, I found it. The cracking of the tape as I peeled it back filled the horrible, tense silence. I turned to hold the poster in place, but as I did, it slipped out in a second and landed just in front of Chase.

He picked it up, then came over and held it against the window for me. The scent of his cologne was deep and earthy, and my stomach panged at the familiar scent.

“You can tape it. I’m not going to drop it just to piss you off.” Laughter tinged his tone, and I pursed my lips.

I ripped the tape off with my teeth and stuck the poster against the window as quickly as I could. This time, I folded the edge of the tape so it wouldn’t take me half an hour to find the end the next freaking time.

“Renovations, huh? Are you finally bringing this place into the twenty-first century?”

I wasn’t going to bite. I hadn’t intentionally said a word to the man for six months, and except for the “thank you” I knew I had to offer up on his way out, I wasn’t going to start today.

Chase twisted his lips to the side. “Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?”

I assumed that was obvious, but he had always liked to state it.

I folded my arms and stared at him.

He was done.

He could go now.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “One day, you’ll talk to me again.”

That wasn’t likely. Not that I told him that.

A piece of his hair stuck up where he’d messed it up, and I almost reached out to smooth it back down. I knew that piece of hair well—it’d stuck up every time I’d run my fingers through his hair when we’d been together.

Apparently, old habits really did die hard, even when you hated the person they were associated with.

Ugh.

“All right. I know a lost cause when I see one.” He shrugged one of his wide shoulders and made for the door.

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to sound like it was forced. “For the help.”

He turned back to me and reached out, chucking me under the chin. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Rae?”

I glared at him.

Laughing, he winked and pulled the door open. “I’ll see you.”

Not if I could help it.

He pulled the door shut with a click after him, and I rushed over to turn the key in the lock. I wasn’t going to have any more unexpected visitors stop by, thank you very much.

Door locked, I tugged on the blinds and pulled them all down so nobody could see in. The beige blinds showed their age, and I grabbed the notepad I had on the counter and scribbled ‘new blind’ down on my list of things to buy.

Unfortunately, for me, gussying up the store was only one half of the battle. I now had some kind of a plan for that—new paint on the walls, the ice cream lights, the cone tables, stools made out of macarons stacked on one another—but I had nothing for the point Grandma had made.

Make them want to come.

Customers needed a reason to come to me and not The Frozen Spoon. Sure, when word got out about the renovation, nosy regulars and interested tourists would keep me in business for a couple of weeks, but when the shiny new toy got a little older, I’d be struggling again.