Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

VIOLET

T he next few days, I was busy at work, planning holiday flavors, and trying not to think about a certain sexy single dad.

Each time I got out my note pad to write my plans for the next few months, my mind drifted to the moment I saw Ryder walking alongside his daughter while she tried and failed to stay upright on her bike.

Something about Faith called out to me. When I saw her struggling and the embarrassed pink tinge on her cheeks, I wanted to help her.

I wanted to know if she'd kept practicing, if she was able to ride a bike on a level surface, but I didn't have Ryder's number, and it was none of my business.

I kept reminding myself that Ryder was coming off a divorce or maybe even still married, and I didn't have any business wanting him.

I forced myself to focus. I wrote October, November, and December along the top of my sheet of paper, then lines for columns. I jotted customer favorites for the months—November: pumpkin and apple pie. Then there were so many possibilities for December: gingerbread, peppermint, hot chocolate. I was playing with the idea of something green I could name Grinch or even something blue that was cool and frosty I could name Snow Cream. But the exact flavors hadn't come to me yet.

For October, my favorite was s'mores. It consisted of chocolate ice cream with a million marshmallows and graham cracker crumbs. I waited until the store was empty to sample a small scoop for myself. I couldn't resist.

I was constantly working on new ideas, trying to come up with flavors the customers wouldn't expect. I wanted my shop to stand out from the others on Main Street. My store wasn't on Main. Instead, I'd chosen a spot in the line of shops that led to the harbor—the main draw in Annapolis.

The door opened, the bell tinkling. I smoothed my pony tail and washed my hands. "Welcome to Sweet Scoops."

"Violet," a familiar deep voice called to me.

I turned my head to find Ryder and Faith. They stood on the other side of the glass case, Faith's gaze on the many tubs of ice cream. Her father stood slightly behind her with a sheepish look on his face. "Faith wanted ice cream."

I moved closer, my nerves kicking in. "I'm glad you chose my shop. I know there are many options downtown."

"How could we go anywhere else when we know the shop owner of this place?" Ryder's eyes practically danced with mischief.

My heart fluttered.

"I didn't have a chance to look around the last time I was here." Ryder moved over to the freezers on the back wall that held local wares for sale: milk, lemonade, iced tea, cakes, Daphne's pies, farm-fresh eggs, beef, and frozen pizzas. "You've got quite the variety here. You even use the old-fashioned glass bottles for milk."

"Customers pay a deposit for the bottles and can exchange them for a new one each time they come or return it for a refund. I prefer serving milk in glass, and the customers like the novelty."

"It's a unique option."

Was he impressed, or did he think it was frivolous? "When I decided to open the shop, I wanted to serve more than ice cream. I wanted a strong connection to the community, and I thought what better way than to offer options from local farmers and bakers."

Ryder nodded as he perused the freshly baked bread, muffins, the Ocean-City-style popcorn, and local spices and oils. "You thought of everything."

I moved around the counter so that I stood next to him. "They make great gifts for the tourists if you want to buy something from the area that you can continue to use and doesn't just sit on the shelf. I use this spice for chicken, and this one for fish." I picked up the respective bottles to show him. "Do you like to cook?"

"I don't. But I'm trying to learn. We're going to figure it out together." Ryder gestured at Faith.

It was sweet that he was going to learn how to cook with his daughter. I told my heart to chill out though. This particular single dad wasn't ready to date. "Oh, that's so nice. I've been taking a cooking class at the local library. They just put in a state-of-the-art teaching kitchen."

Ryder raised a brow. "At the library?"

"And it's free. You should take a look at the classes."

Ryder turned slightly to face me. "Which one do you go to?"

"I do Mondays at six. The store is closed that day." Would Ryder come to the class with Faith?

"Faith is with her mother then. Maybe there's a class on the weekend that could work."

I nodded even as my heart sunk at the news. "I bet there is."

"I have off of school next Monday. Maybe we could go to that one?" Faith asked hopefully.

"I'd have to take you home afterward."

Ryder seemed to be working it out in his head, if it was physically possible and maybe even whether Faith's mother would approve. I couldn't imagine raising a child with a parent who lived out of state. It must have been difficult.

"Can we?" Faith asked, and I wondered if Ryder was able to say no to a pleading twelve-year-old, especially when it came to something like a cooking class.

"I'll make it work," Ryder said, and my heart melted even more.

I couldn't wait to see Ryder with his daughter at the cooking class. It was going to be difficult for me to pay attention to the instructor. Whatever we made that day was sure to be burned.

"Can I try a few flavors?" Faith asked.

"Of course." I hustled behind the counter to grab the sample spoon. "What looks good?"

Faith tapped her lips with her finger. "You have so many different options to choose from."

I was acutely aware that Ryder had come to stand next to his daughter, but his gaze was on me. "I offer the traditional vanilla and chocolate, but I wanted to stand out a little."

"Fruit Loops?" Faith asked as she read the sign, and I swiped the small spoon in the colorful mixture.

I grinned. "It was my favorite cereal growing up, even though it's not the healthiest."

"It would tear up the roof of my mouth," Ryder said.

I met his gaze over the top of the case. "Yes. But I still ate it."

The side of his mouth curved. "I have no idea why, but I ate it anyway too."

I laughed. "It was always a good Saturday morning if there was Fruit Loops in the pantry."

Faith's nose scrunched up as she ate it. "I don't think I like it."

"Let's try something else." I took the spoon from her, throwing it out. Faith went through a few flavors before she settled on Caramel Swirl, one of my fall flavors.

"Would you like to try anything?" I asked Ryder.

"How is s'mores?" Ryder pointed at the tub of chocolate ice cream topped with marshmallows and graham cracker crumbs.

I touched my chest with my palm. "It's my favorite. It's chocolate ice cream with minimarshmallows and graham crackers."

The skin around Ryder's eyes crinkled. "If it's your favorite, then I have to try it."

"You won't be disappointed." There was nothing better than sharing my creations with other people, and knowing they'd love them.

Faith had moved over to a table to eat. When I served Ryder, he pulled out his credit card. "It's on the house."

"I can't let you do that. How will you stay in business?" Ryder's voice was low and chiding, but it seemed to have a direct path to my clit because it was throbbing.

I tipped my head to the side, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush to my cheeks. "Just this one time?"

Ryder sighed, then pulled out a wad of bills and threw it in the tip jar.

I pursed my lips. "You know that's for the employees, not the owner."

"I pay when I'm out," he grumbled.

"You don't take handouts?" I asked him, curious to know him better.

"Not from a woman who just opened an ice cream shop and want it to be successful."

A smile spread over my face. "I can handle a few free scoops from time to time."

Ryder winked at me. "Save your free scoops for someone else then."

"Thanks, Ryder." I appreciated the sentiment, even though I was trying to do something nice for him.

"Violet?" Faith asked.

I moved around the counter so I could stand near them at the small two-person table.

Faith licked her cone. "Do you think you could show me how you use Aunt Daphne's pies in your recipes?"

Ryder was quick to add, "Faith, I'm sure Violet's busy. She has a store to run, flavors to create?—"

"I'd love to show you. No one's ever expressed interest. Other than Daphne of course. She's the one who helped with the recipe."

"I'd love to see how you do it. Can I create my own flavor—" Ryder shot her a warning look before she added, "Or can you at least show me how you do it?"

"I'd love to."

"We'll have to arrange a time when I can drop her off for a few hours. When you're not busy of course."

"Maybe next Monday? You said you're off of school, and the store is closed that day."

"It's Stacy's weekend. I'll see if I can make it work. But if not, we can try for another time," Ryder said.

"Yes! I'm so excited."

"Say thank you," Ryder reminded her.

Faith rolled her eyes while she managed to lick her ice cream. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I tried not to smile at their interaction, but it was cute.

I left them to finish their ice cream, wiping already clean counters. I turned up the volume by one so I could move around the shop to the beat of the music.

When they finished their ice cream, Ryder stopped by the counter while Faith headed outside. He could see her through the window. "Thanks for offering to let Faith watch what you do."

"I'm excited to share my work with someone who's interested in my process."

He nodded, then said, "What if I'm interested? Do you mind if I stick around?"

That was a little different. I thought he'd drop Faith off, and we'd be by ourselves. If he was going to be here, watching us, it would be more nerve-racking. I was hyperaware of his presence whenever he was near. "Not at all."

He leaned his elbows on the counter, lowering himself to my level. "You looked good dancing around the shop."

I flushed. "I didn't realize you were watching."

"You're hard to ignore." Then he pushed off the counter. "I'll see you next Monday if I don't run into you walking around the neighborhood."

He paused at the door and turned around. "Have you ever thought of making a flavor with your name on it?"

I laughed. "I haven't, actually."

He winked. "Something to think about."

I could do something lavender, maybe grape flavored? But I didn't like grape. It should be something that I enjoyed. What could work?

"I see I've got your brain turning."

"I'm intrigued. It's a problem I have to solve."

He pulled open the door. "Maybe we can help you with that when you show Faith how to create a flavor. I'll see if Faith can come up with anything."

Ryder joined Faith on the sidewalk, and I couldn't resist following his movements.

He walked with a confident swagger, yet at the same time, he was aware of his surroundings. I got the impression he studied everyone in his vicinity, mentally noting anything out of the ordinary. I wondered if he'd analyzed me. What did he do in his job? Did he investigate people, or did he analyze evidence? I was dying to know, but I was sure he couldn't talk about it.

I'd agreed to show his daughter how I made my ice cream. I was ecstatic to share that part of my life with her. So few people asked me about it. Customers assumed I sold another creamery's ice cream like one of the other shops in the area. I should probably share my process to elevate my business, but I wasn't sure how.

I didn't have many tables, so a place mat with my story written on it wouldn't work either. Maybe a sign that said I make my own flavors could work.

What if I offered classes about making ice cream, similar to the cooking classes I attended? Would kids enjoy that? Would it be something I could do on Mondays that would serve the dual purpose of advertising my business and drumming up more interest and money?

I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of the idea before. But I'd just been trying to get the business off the ground and earn a profit since rent in this area was so expensive.

I pulled out my laptop and did a quick search. I couldn't find any other ice-cream shops that were offering classes. A broader search didn't reveal anything. It would be a unique idea. I didn't have a lot of room in the kitchen area though. I just didn't have the space.

I could share my process and then let people make their own. But I'd need a few more stations, smaller stainless-steel tables where they could work, and more mixers. The only way I could do it would be to expand or move to another location.

The Main Street shop owners met once a month to discuss business, and thankfully I'd been included in those meetings. I could talk to them about my business idea, except I didn't want anyone else to steal it. There were too many ice-cream shops in this area.

One was a chain, another was a frozen yogurt chain, another mixed their ice cream with soda, and it had a nostalgic vibe to it, and yet another made fudge. This would be the one thing that could set me apart.

Excited to get started, I wrote down ideas for what I could do with Faith. It would be a trial run of sorts. To see what kind of questions she had, if it was something people would be interested in.

By the time more people started filtering in for the evening, I'd created a solid plan for a class, and I was excited about it. I loved creating new flavors. Maybe this would be an opportunity to share that passion with other people. I could hold a contest to create a flavor of the month, name it after the winner. If I couldn't physically expand right away, I could live stream it on social media.

After I closed the shop, I headed over to Grandpa's. He was sitting in his rocker on the porch.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I teased him.

He raised a brow. "Shouldn't you?"

I sat on the top step. "I was too excited to sleep."

"And why is that?" Grandpa asked with interest.

"Your neighbor, Ryder, and his daughter, Faith, came in today. She was interested in learning how to make ice cream, and it gave me the idea to host classes."

"Not a bad idea."

"I'm using her private class as a way to figure out how to structure it."

"You want to share your process with other people?"

"I get excited about creating new flavors and getting them just right." I didn't like when my chocolate tasted like everyone else's. I wanted it to be different, better. I worked until it was a rich flavor, far beyond what you'd get in a carton at the store. I used real Oreo cookies in the cookies and cream. Real strawberries in the strawberry ice cream. Everything was natural. It was my theory that it made it better than the competition. My mint ice cream wasn't that dyed-green color, even though kids were sometimes put off by the unfamiliar white.

"I think people are going to love it. How can they not when you're so passionate about it?" Grandpa said as he slowly rocked.

It was dusk, the evening getting darker as the days bled into fall. But there were still quite a few people out walking with their kids or their dogs. I told myself I was here to see Grandpa, to share my new idea with him. But there was a part of me scanning the streets for any glimpse of Faith and Ryder.

I forgot to ask how bike riding was going when they came into the shop. I was distracted by Ryder's presence and Faith's questions about ice cream.

"I think I'm going to get ready for bed." Grandpa rose slowly, and I hurried to offer a hand if he needed it.

"Mr. George. Look at me."

I turned to see Faith riding her bike a bit wobbly up the street. Ryder stood next to her, a proud look on his face.

"You're doing it!" I exclaimed as I moved down the sidewalk to meet them.

"I kept practicing the hills like you suggested. I can't do it at home. Only when I'm visiting Dad."

"I can see it's really helped with your balance."

Faith grimaced. "I don't want to be the only twelve-year-old that can't ride."

"You won't be. You've made so much progress." I guessed that in a few weeks her dad wouldn't be walking along beside her. She'd be doing it on her own.

"That's great, Faith," Grandpa said as he sidled up next to me.

"The shop closed for the night?" Ryder said, his gaze settling on me in a way that made me feel warm all over, even though the evenings were cooler now.

"Yeah, I just stopped by to visit with Grandpa before bed."

"Speaking of which, I'm up past my bedtime. I'd better get inside."

I turned to follow him. "I can walk you?—"

"No need." Grandpa waved me off. "I can still manage to get myself to bed."

I kissed his cheek, my heart full. "Good night."

Grandpa patted my cheek. "Night, Violet."

I watched him as he continued up the sidewalk and into the house. When he closed the front door, I said, "I think I was dismissed for the night."

"You want to walk with us?" Faith asked.

I glanced at Ryder, not wanting to interrupt his time with his daughter, and when he nodded, I said, "I'd love to."