Mrs. Hollister looked at her watch. “How does right now sound?”
“Perfect. Do you conduct the tours?”
The woman looped her hand through her son’s arm and squeezed. “Chase does a much better job with the tours than I do. He can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about candle making.”
Chase looked startled. “But I’ve got to finish the invent—”
“Nonsense!” The stern look Mrs. Hollister turned on her son brought a grin to Caitlin’s face. She looked like she was scolding her ten-year-old, though Chase was closer to thirty, if Caitlin was any judge.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Caitlin said. “I’m here until Sunday night. I could come back tomorrow.”
The stern look turned her way. “It’s no trouble at all. Is it, Chase?”
He obviously didn’t want to be bothered giving her a personal tour. But apparently he wasn’t up for contradicting his mother. The smile he assumed held a touch of resignation. “I have been making candles long enough to know a thing or two about the process.”
This is a joke, isn’t it, God? Throw me together with a handsome guy, add a few not-so-subtle nudges from his mother—it’s a test to see if I’m really serious about my decision, isn’t it?
Well, Caitlin was accustomed to scoring well on tests.
“That’s terrific. Thanks so much.” Did her voice sound too bubbly, too enthusiastic? To cover her embarrassment, she thrust her hand toward him. “My name’s Caitlin Saylor.”
“Nice to meet you, Caitlin.”
Their hands connected, and the soft skin of Caitlin’s palm tingled where it nestled next to his. An answering flutter tickled the pit of her stomach. This kind of stuff never happened to her. Why now, after her decision?
When Chase released her hand, she clutched the shoulder strap of her purse and lifted her chin, determined to ignore the flutter.
Three hundred and sixty-five days. No problem.
“We break the blocks into smaller pieces to speed the melting process.” Chase directed Caitlin’s attention to the worktable where Alex stood hacking at a slab of wax with a hammer and chisel.
She stopped her curious inspection of the room to watch Alex. Chase didn’t think her interest was feigned, though up in the shop he’d thought she might hightail it out of there when his mom started shoving them together.
Not that Chase would have blamed Caitlin. In fact, he’d have been tempted to flee with her, to escape the machinations of his mother when she got that gleam in her eye. And she seemed to get it a lot lately. Like finding him a date had become her number-one priority in life or something. She reminded Chase at least twice a week that he hadn’t gone on a date since he and Leslie broke up, shortly after Kevin’s death.
The image he’d seen inside the car this morning flashed across his mind with surprising clarity. An answering surge of bile threatened. Chase gulped in a couple of deep breaths.
“I do the same thing with baker’s chocolate.” Caitlin brought him back to the task at hand. “Otherwise part of it scorches before the bigger pieces have a chance to melt.”
“Exactly.”
Alex pounded off another chunk, this time with a quick sideways glance at Caitlin as the piece of pale white wax broke off. Were his biceps bulging more than normal? Yeah, they were. Chase swallowed a disgusted grunt. Alex was flexing them on purpose, the show-off. Known as something of a lady’s man, Alex loved to put on a show for the pretty tourists.
And Caitlin was pretty. Blond hair. Blue eyes. The top of her head was on level with his nose.
Her looks weren’t lost on Alex, apparently. The guy puffed his chest out and swaggered behind the table where he stood. “This is the easy part,” Alex said. He waved a dismissive hand at the block of wax. “Requires nothing but brute force.” The show-off gave her a broad wink as he hefted a new slab of wax into position. “Stick around and I’ll be happy to demonstrate the part that takes finesse a little later.”
Judging by the way her cheeks flushed, she caught the double entendre. Chase couldn’t tell if she was pleased or embarrassed by Alex’s flirting, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Definitely didn’t flirt, like many women would have.
In fact, she hadn’t flirted with him, either. Chase liked that—he preferred women who didn’t go for all that eyelash-batting stuff.
“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’re good.” Chase gave Alex a stern stare over the top of Caitlin’s lowered head. Grinning, the Romeo lifted a shoulder and picked up his hammer.
Chase smiled down at Caitlin. “Let’s go into the other room, where the real work takes place.”
He put a hand on the back of her arm and guided her away from Alex’s worktable. He pointed out the neat rows of twenty-five-pound pails containing scented oil, stored on shelves along the rear wall, then led her through the doorway into the long, narrow room beyond. Fifty or so jars filled with liquid wax lined the worktable in the center. At the deep sink, Irene was cleaning up the last of the equipment from the morning’s pour. She flashed a smile in their direction, continuing with her task.
“You just missed a pour,” he informed Caitlin as he led her down the length of the table. “We did French Vanilla this morning.”
He described the process of mixing the fragrances, achieving the correct wax temperature, securing the wicks and pouring, and also the various effects to be achieved by different cooling techniques.
When he finished his spiel, she pointed toward a table that lined the rear wall, laden with dozens of metal molds. “You do all kinds of candles at once? Jars, pillars, tins, all the ones I saw in the shop?”
He shook his head. “We use a different kind of wax for pillars and votives, because they have to be taken out of the mold.” He nodded toward the table. “Those are Cinnamon Red Hots from yesterday afternoon. They’re ready to be unmolded, wrapped and shipped out.”
She gave him a surprised look. “Shipped out? You don’t sell them all here?”
“Oh, no. The shop is just one small piece of our business. We have a great Web site, and we get orders from all over the country. And most of our local business comes from the shops downtown.”
Chase led her to the third worktable, where four boxes of jar candles stood waiting for delivery. “These are interesting.” He flipped open a flap of the box and pulled out a deep-purple candle. “Forbidden Fantasy. Last year we designed this scent for a shop here in town. They sell a ton of them.”
He held the jar up for her inspection, and she read from the label. “‘Made by Good Things In Wax exclusively for The Candle Corner, Nashville, Indiana.’” She tilted her head to look at him sideways, a smile hovering at the edge of her mouth. “So you mean I can’t buy this from you? I’d have to go downtown to get it?”
That almost-smile was contagious. Chase found his mouth curving in answer, and was unable to look away from eyes almost exactly the same shade of blue as his favorite Maui Breeze candle.
On impulse, he pushed the jar toward her. “You don’t have to go anywhere. This is your gift for taking the tour. With our compliments.”
The smile broke loose, and a deep dimple creased her cheek. “Thank you.”
Blue eyes, blond hair, dimples. Chase tore his gaze away, his throat suddenly dry. “That concludes the tour, I’m afraid. If you’ll follow me.”
“Hey!”
An exclamation from behind made Caitlin jump, and Chase turned, frowning toward the intruder.