Savage in the Sweets: Savage in Love, #2

By Lark Anderson

Savage with the Sweets
And good enough to eat…

Lacy Savage is the name; candy pushing is my game.

And I do mean candy—so get those dirty thoughts out of your head!
 

My life is a dream! I love my job! I love my small town! I love my adorable niece! How could things possibly get any better?

Well…importing an array of eligible bachelors wouldn't hurt. Not to brag, but I'm coming in at almost a year of forced celibacy. It's gotten so bad, I came thiiiiiis close to adding robo-tongue to my Amazon cart. 

Lucky for me, the answer to my frustration moved right next door to my shop in the form of a taut and tanned gym owner.

Sounds like fate, right? 

Wrong! You see, he's trying to get my business run off school property, which happens to be my most important client.

Apparently, he has something against candy. That is when he isn't sneaking a bar in his back office. That's right—I learned his secret, and I have the picture to prove it.

As I was negotiating a truce, I kicked the heat up a notch, and by notch, I mean I sent him an explicit photo(totally the celibacy's fault). Suddenly, he's no longer opposed to eating my candy…

We decide on a casual fling. What better way to get our aggression out?

That was the plan, but what happens when he decides he wants a lifetime supply….

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lark Anderson
• Release date: Jan 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201909956

Book preview

1

Lacy

It is an indisputable fact that I love my shop and enjoy going to work each day.

But right now, as I stand across the counter from an especially prickly customer who’s eyeing the chocolate-covered pretzel rods, I’d much rather be handling the rod of Chris Hemsworth.

That’s the mentality a ten-month sex drought will give you, or maybe I’m just being a normal horny woman in her 20s.

Smile politely. Be patient. Soon, he’ll walk out a satisfied customer.

I’ll take a dozen pretzels? he says, then goes back to talking into the phone pressed between his cheek and his shoulder.

Without guidance, I pick the twelve I think look the best, but when I see an annoyed look on his face, I smile brightly and whisper, Is there a special one you had in mind?

He points emphatically to a rod on the left, then takes the phone away from his mouth. Take out the pink and replace it with the one with blue sparkles.

I comply with his demands, hoping that he realizes I didn’t want to interrupt his call and that I’m not a mind reader.

After I ring up his order, I force a pleasant expression on my face. That will be twenty-two dollars.

Isn’t there some kind of bulk discount? he blurts out quickly, then returns to his conversation.

I pull out a laminated menu that includes the prices, pointing to the line that shows that by getting twelve, he receives a two-dollar discount, which I have already accounted for.

He shakes his head and swipes his card through the reader.

Grumpy men are the worst to wait on. Scratch that—leering men are. Grumpy men are a close second. The best are children, who always leave satisfied.

He ends the call, then looks up at me, finally giving me his attention.

Ya know, these are a dollar each at Walmart.

Okay, so maybe I was too hasty in my judgment. I’d much rather be leered at than told how much my goods are worth by a man who’s probably had no experience in confectionaries.

Get your shit together. He’ll be out in the blink of an eye.

While I do realize that, these are handmade with real chocolate, which is why I must charge more.

Things I don’t mention are rent, labor laws other stores fail to adhere to, and the growing cost of owning a small business.

Without a farewell, he grabs the bag from the counter and heads out the door.

Good riddance.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out to see a text from Stephanie, my sister, but it’s not her that’s messaging me. It’s my adorable niece, April.

April: It’s me, April! Can you fit another princess on the cake?

Even though no one is around, I still bring my hand to my mouth to stifle my laughter. There are already eight princesses on her birthday cake. What’s one more?

Lacy: Sure, which one?

An image comes through of a woman with black hair in a corset. Who the hell am I looking at?

April: Thank you, Aunt Lacy!

Lacy: Who is that?

April: Xena: Warrior Princess.

A quick Google search tells me she’s from the ‘90s.

Shit! Where the hell am I going to find a Xena figurine for her cake? 

I had assumed she was looking for a princess of the Disney variety, which would be easy to find at our local Walmart. Something tells me that Xena won’t be found on mainstream shelves.

With her birthday tomorrow, having one shipped isn’t an option. I’ll have to hit up the local shops tomorrow. 

Lacy: I’ll get on it!

Looking at the displays, I’m rather pleased with how well the items are moving. When I first took over Savage Sweets, after my parents’ death, it was an uphill battle. Keeping a small business running in a small town isn’t easy. You really have to rely on the community.

As I go to mark down the items that aren’t selling, the door jingles, alerting me to another customer.

Please don’t be a big ass turd….

I look over to see the principal of Wilson’s Grove Elementary School, Irene Bailey, walking toward the counter.

Hello, Irene! I enthuse, always happy to see the bright and cheery woman.

She arcs a grumpy eyebrow. Do you have my fix?

I sure do! Espresso with a shot of chocolate, raspberry, and three homemade marshmallows.

Phew! I was half worried I was going to fall asleep during the school board meeting, but that should do it for me.

It takes me less than a minute to make her order, as it’s done entirely by muscle memory. I exchange the steaming cup for a five, thankful I don’t have to make change.

She breathes in the mixture deeply. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

I cast her a wink. I’ll always have your back.

Her eyes scan my displays. Bring whatever you can spare to the board meeting. Those cake pops always seem to go quickly.

I pull out an extra two dozen cake pops decorated in Wilson’s Grove’s school colors of blue and gold. Roger that!

I’ve become somewhat of a staple at school functions. The proceeds I make on school grounds or when I host a fundraiser are split between my shop and the school, both of us benefiting substantially from the negotiation. In fact, without Wilson’s Grove Elementary, I’m not entirely sure I could keep the lights on. More and more, people are shopping online for candy and confectionaries, and my sales are far less than what they were for my parents.

You really know the fine art of presentation, she says as she admires the pops.

I busy myself, pulling out and folding cardboard boxes to transport the sugary treats as Irene watches from over the counter. We have a good rapport, and I can tell there’s something on her mind. More than once, I’ve acted as her therapist, listening to her as she rattled off the various situations she encounters each day.

And let me tell you, I do not envy this woman. Not one bit. 

Anything big on the agenda for tonight? I ask, hoping to ease her mind.

She takes a sip of her espresso concoction, then inhales a deep breath, letting it out quickly. The playground again. After that kid fell from the platform and broke his arm, people haven’t wanted us to send the kids out to play for recess.

That was over a year ago…

These parents are so bent on sheltering their children, they don’t realize the importance of playing outside, in the fresh air, on a jungle gym.

I rack my brain for words of encouragement, knowing that whatever I say is not going to alleviate her stress. I have to try, though. 

I’m sure you’ll handle it well and with grace, is what I finally muster, fully realizing it’s generic and far from the warm beacon I aim to be.

She purses her lips as though she’s contemplating telling me something. I take a break from the boxes to give her my full attention.

Have you met the guy who owns the gym moving in next to your shop?

No, but the construction has been noisy. The power went out once, and that caused chaos. Three dozen cookies wasted.

He’s a good man, looking to get involved in the school. An excellent father…

Her voice trails off. I’ve never seen her like this before, like she’s trying to convince herself of something. She’s never unsure of herself, always articulating her thoughts perfectly and with conviction.

I’ve yet to see him, I say after an awkward silence. Maybe I’ll bring him over a goody basket.

She snickers. He doesn’t strike me as the type who would enjoy that.

Who doesn’t enjoy handmade chocolate?

When you see the body on him, you’ll understand.

Well, he does own a gym, I reply back. He cute?

Sizzling—but too young for me. He’s only thirty-two.

Irene may be an older lady, but she doesn’t look a day over forty, and she’s always put together.

I wink at her. He might be into cougars, and you do look like you could be Beyonce’s older sister.

She chuckles. You better stop that. Puttin’ ideas in my head.

It doesn’t sound like I’m the one doing that. Why are you thinking so much about him?

He might be the answer we’ve been looking for. He wants to help the kids and assist with the playground. He’s so damn stubborn, though.

That’s great!

Another silence falls between us, and I find that for the first time since I’ve known her, I don’t much like Irene’s company. I’d rather she be ranting up a storm about the parking situation than her being this ominous.

She blinks as though suddenly realizing where she is. Oh…listen to me prattling on. She rolls her eyes. I’m probably just reading too much into things.

Reading too much into what? Did I miss part of the conversation?

Here, take this. I offer her a raspberry truffle, which I know is her favorite. On the house.

I know I can always count on you, Irene says, taking the chocolate and turning to leave.

Can’t wait to see you tonight, I say as I go back to my boxes.

As Irene walks out the doors, she shouts back, Same, girl.

2

Lacy

I set up my booth and begin greeting the guests as they trickle through the doors, offering them cupcakes, hot chocolate, and other sweet treats at a reasonable price. 

There are always a few parents that bring their children to these functions, and I give the cuties small lollipops, with their parent’s permission.

Wilson’s Grove is a small, tight-knit community that makes you feel like you’ve teleported decades into the past. Everyone is personable in a way they aren’t in cities and other towns. After graduating high school, I thought it was the last place I wanted to be and moved to an urban area to go to college. 

Big mistake. 

I came crawling back two years later with my tail between my legs, begging to take over the family business. My parents never made me feel bad and welcomed me back with open arms. My sister had just had April, and we grew closer than we ever were growing up.

I’m forever thankful for the time I had with them in those years. I got to know my parents in a way I wouldn’t have otherwise, and when a car accident took them from me just three years after I came back, I feel like I had some amount of closure.

I took over Savage Sweets, though my sister is technically a co-owner. Everything fell on me, which was terrifying at the time, but I can rightfully say that I’ve successfully preserved my family’s legacy.

Oh no, not him…

Donald Setland marches through the school’s double doors like he owns the place, and considering how people bend to his will, it’s almost like he does.

Could there possibly be a bigger douchebag in all of existence?

There’s no denying that he’s handsome, standing at least six feet tall with a distinct jawline and debonair good looks. I’m sure that’s what his wife saw in him, because