“Are Charlotte and Pris coming too?” Ella asked, though she already knew the answer.
“What do you think?” Stina gave a pointed, sassy smirk before stalking out.
“Sorry I asked,” Ella said to the once-again empty breakroom.
Two years. She hadn’t been invited to celebrate Christmas at her dad’s house for two years. She couldn’t believe her stepsister still blamed Ella for her breakup with Derek. Sure, Ella had dated him after he’d ended things with Pris, but that hadn’t been planned, nor had it lasted long. From the way Pris acted, anyone would have thought Ella had gotten between Pris and Derek while they’d still been dating, which wasn’t the case at all.
Ella attempted to brush it off. Grandma Larsen, her late mother’s mom, had caught wind of it last year. She’d invited Ella to celebrate Christmas with her. Hopefully, Grammy would again.
“I’d rather spend it with her anyway,” Ella told herself as she removed her sneakers, unzipped, and stepped out of the jumpsuit. Knowing she should fold it nicely, she wadded it into a lump instead. She had to take her frustration out on something. Might as well be something that couldn’t feel.
Ella wished she’d had the forethought to pack a dry pair of socks with her as well, but who would have guessed she’d spill water all over her foot? Ignoring it as best she could, she adjusted her black undershirt and retrieved the red blouse hanging in her locker. Ordinarily, she wore pajamas beneath her jumpsuit, but she had to look half-decent if she was going to be meeting Samantha to get that fabric.
Changing quickly into nice jeans, and the button-up red blouse, Ella slipped her arms into the sleeves of her winter coat. She dusted powder on her cheeks, whipped on some mascara and eyeliner, fluffed her hair, and grabbed her purse before popping back up to the third floor.
The meet-up didn’t take long. Samantha had the bag ready and waiting by her office door. Ella thanked her and made her way back to the elevator.
This was perfect. With this donation, she wouldn’t have to beeline to the store for anything else before Christmas. The kids in the hospital would each have a colorful new pillowcase Christmas morning.
Stitches for Sierra, Ella’s non-profit charity organization, was the one thing that brought her true happiness, especially at this time of year. She needed this after Stina’s stingy displeasure.
Carrying the heavy fabric, Ella struggled toward the elevator across from the stairs. A man in a suit stepped into it before she reached it. Ella quickened her pace.
“Hold the elevator!” she called.
His hand shot out, stopping it from closing. Ella dashed inside, only to find herself face-to-face with the man she’d been ogling not an hour before.
She’d never met Ever After Sweet Shoppe’s owner, but wowee, was he better looking in person. The picture captured his tan and the blaze of crystal blue in his eyes, but now, seeing those eyes up close and personal had a sugary-spiked effect on her blood pressure.
They had the full force of a storm, unavoidable and impossible to not feel once she was submersed in it. She was being doused by a downpour, and it pooled all the way into her shoes.
Oh, wait. That was her wet sock. Still, his direct glance did something to her.
Ella’s cheeks blazed as though she stood beneath stage lights. She couldn’t believe it. She’d just stepped into the elevator with Hawk Danielson.
CHAPTER TWO
Work was busy enough without adding theft into the mix.
Ever After Sweet Shoppe had become a national brand in just a few decades. Hawk had never been one to eat much candy himself, but his father had hailed back to the Willie Wonka-style sweet shops, where kids could pause for an hour with their friends and sit at a bar to order their favorite taffy or ice cream sundae, where various confections were offered in vending style, filled by the bagful at the customer’s behest and sold by the pound.
His marketing team was talking about commercializing. Going big, packaging the brand to be sold in the big-box stores across the country. But Hawk liked the idea of his father’s boutique stores, of them being something not quite so mainstream. He’d branched out, setting up shops all across the eastern seaboard and throughout the southern United States as well.
Everything Ever After Sweet Shoppe offered—toffee, peanut brittle, divinity—were old family recipes that his father had streamlined for mass production. The shops were now well-known secrets that had made appearances in magazines and been featured on Food Network for their charm and personal, hometown-feel.
While that had been pretty amazing—and had certainly helped with sales and exposure—his marketing team had it in their heads that more exposure was the way to go. Hawk knew they had a point. Hershey had done it. He’d distributed in stores all over the world. He’d even established a town where his factory made the very air chocolate-scented.
Hawk wasn’t sure he wanted a chocolate-scented town. He worried it would destroy the cozy, ma and pa kind of feel people got from his boutique candy shops. When customers stumbled across one of his charming stores, they felt like they’d discovered a hidden trove of delicious things that had been packaged and designed just for them.
He settled onto the cushy, wheeled chair behind his desk and rested his head in his hands.
What would happen with this expansion endeavor if word about, not one, but two thefts began to spread? Publicity was good if it shed the right light on the company. But negative publicity could alter things so much more, from the safety concerns already swimming among his staff to the smudge this
