Sweethand Read online

  Sweethand

  Island Bites, Volume 1

  N.G. Peltier

  Published by N.G. Peltier, 2021.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Sweethand (Island Bites, #1)

  Chapter 1 | FEBRUARY | Cherisse

  Chapter 2 | Keiran

  Chapter 3 | MARCH | Cherisse

  Chapter 4 | Keiran

  Chapter 5 | Cherisse

  Chapter 6 | Cherisse

  Chapter 7 | Cherisse

  Chapter 8 | Cherisse

  Chapter 9 | Keiran

  Chapter 10 | Keiran

  Chapter 11 | APRIL | Cherisse

  Chapter 12 | Keiran

  Chapter 13 | Cherisse

  Chapter 14 | Cherisse

  Chapter 15 | Keiran

  Chapter 16 | Cherisse

  Chapter 17 | Keiran

  Chapter 18 | Cherisse

  Chapter 19 | Keiran

  Chapter 20 | Cherisse

  Chapter 21 | Keiran

  Chapter 22 | MAY | Cherisse

  Chapter 23 | Keiran

  Chapter 24 | Cherisse

  Chapter 25 | Keiran

  Chapter 26 | Cherisse

  Chapter 27 | Cherisse

  Chapter 28 | Keiran

  Chapter 29 | Cherisse

  Chapter 30 | Keiran

  Chapter 31 | Cherisse

  Chapter 32 | Keiran

  Chapter 33 | Keiran

  Chapter 34 | JUNE | Cherisse

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For Corey. I did it!! ♥

  Copyright © 2021 N.G. Peltier All rights reserved

  THE CHARACTERS AND events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  COVER DESIGN: Leni Kauffman

  Editing: A.K Edits

  Chapter 1

  FEBRUARY

  Cherisse

  “SHIT!”

  Cherisse clapped her hand to her mouth as the loud expletive echoed up the quiet street, and she nearly lost her hold on the dessert boxes she was balancing. Of course, she would trip on a damn crack in the pavement, nearly falling on her ass, just as she got to the gate of the big house. Luckily the driver had already pulled off, so there wasn’t anyone to witness her stumble.

  She noticed a curtain fluttering in a nearby house, but no one in the posh area actually peered out. Thank the Lord for that. They’d probably have some sort of security come cart away the woman who dared disturb the peace of their neighborhood with her loud cussing.

  Cherisse checked her heel. Not broken, just slightly scuffed. Dammit. She still called that a win. It was better than showing up at the Jones’s house one hour late with a broken shoe in hand. She was already going to have to apologize profusely to her sister.

  She’d texted Ava as soon as she was on the street to buzz her in, so the gate swung open easily. She paused mid-stride up the tiled walkway. Holy fuck. She’d known Eric’s parents were rich, but whoa. She’d gaped at everything on the entire drive up to the Emerald View community, the houses getting bigger and fancier. The garages boasted more expensive vehicles, the closer the car got to the Jones’s place. She shouldn’t be shocked. Westmoorings boasted some of Trinidad’s wealthier citizens, but she blinked up at the massive cream two-story house with its red-tiled roof.

  Shaking herself out of it, she made her way around the back as per her sister’s instructions. Ava and Eric had been together for five years, but somehow, anytime his parents had one of their fancy get-togethers, Cherisse had either been hands-deep in flour and too busy to attend, or she’d been away from the island on pastry chef business. Finally, their schedules had synced. Besides, it wasn’t like she could miss her sister’s swanky engagement party.

  She looked down at herself. A cute floral crop top and a matching skirt that made the entire thing look like one whole dress, and those damn death heels. Still snazzy, though, if a bit dinged now. Good. She’d worn her hair in loose waves today. The trip to the hairdresser for a wash, steam, and set on Friday had it shiny, bouncy, and smelling amazing. She looked good and was ready to mingle.

  She pushed open the little gate that led to the big back yard, smile in place, and ran right into someone so hard she almost lost hold of the boxes again.

  “Jesus f—” She bit off the almost-curse immediately, but when her eyes landed on the offender, she wanted to truly let the f-bomb fly.

  “The Sugar Queen’s late to her own sister’s engagement party? Didn’t think Her Royal Sweetness would know how to be tardy.” The casual drawl heated her blood immediately.

  No. Jesus, Lord, why? Why was she being tested this way?

  Today had started off bad enough. Hungover from too much peopling at last night’s charity event for the Arts, she’d woken up super-late, in a panic, because she’d overslept and gotten a late start on the cake and assorted desserts for the engagement party. She’d hustled her ass, having to improvise a bit. The cake turned into one layer instead of the planned two with the assorted cupcakes, which she’d snazzed up with fancy cupcake holders. She’d sent the cake stand ahead with her best friend and roommate, Remi. Everything would be assembled when she got there. Cherisse had texted Ava to let her know she was a tad late, but she hoped Remi would be a good distraction for a while.

  She’d dealt with all that just fine. Mostly. She was thankful the party was set for evening rather than afternoon. She’d still arrived an hour late, which chafed at her always-punctual soul, but this? No, no, no!

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

  His smile was the same as she remembered: annoying and even. His teeth had always been straight and perfect, which made her even more aware of her slightly crooked bottom ones, not that she’d ever tell him that. His grin flashed bright against his brown skin, and Cherisse was close to bashing him in the face with the dessert boxes. But she reeled in the urge. She wasn’t about to ruin the damn cakes after she’d spent all that time making them.

  “Did you crash this party?”

  Keiran King cocked his brow—ugh, she remembered how much that arched brow annoyed her, too—and folded his arms. “I was invited, same as you.”

  No, that couldn’t be right, but of course, it was. He’d been friends with Eric for years. She’d somehow forgotten that—or just ignored the fact like she ignored most things about Keiran.

  His chuckle was low, and Cherisse bristled. “No one told you? I’m the best man. I have to say, Cherisse, you really know how to string people along. They’re practically salivating in there, waiting for your...” He waved at the dessert boxes. “Whatever’s in the box treats. Did you pull this fashionably late bit to make some grand entrance with your pastries?”

  His words grated, but Cherisse’s brain focused on only one thing.

  I’m the best man.

  “Did you just say you’re the best man?” Blood rushed to her head. He had to be joking. He’d always known how to get a rise out of her since they’d been teens. Poke at Cherisse until she blew and lost her temper and said something her mother would deem unbecoming of a young lady, earning her a serious scolding. She was an adult now, and she would not let him rile her up. She went for flippant instead. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

  “You really don’t believe me.” His eyes crinkled as he laughed loudly. “Seriously, I’m not kidding. I’m the best man to your maid of honor. But, I don’t know, your sis may have to rethink that if you c
an’t even be on time for something small like this.”

  Walking right by was an option. Ignore all the words spewing from his lips. Anything but losing her cool. “I have a legit reason for being late, you asshole!”

  Some heads turned her way, and her face grew warm. Damn everything. She’d completely forgotten where they were. Not exactly the impression she wanted to make on Eric’s family. Cherisse got liberal with the swearing around her close-knit crew. Here, that wouldn’t be acceptable.

  Keiran’s brown eyes twinkled at her outburst. He’d definitely won that round. Keiran King – 1 Cherisse Gooding – 0

  “Whatever you say, Sugar Queen. Better get on. I’m sure everybody’s waiting on your overly-hyped whatever.” He bowed and moved to the side. She stormed by him, making sure to whack him in the side with the sharp corner of one of the boxes. His laughter echoed behind her.

  She’d never hated the nickname she’d been dubbed with by her fellow foodies on the island. Sugar Queen. She liked it. The print and online magazines she’d been featured in used it all the time. Hell, she’d rolled with it all the way and plastered the damn nickname all over her bio on her website and social media accounts.

  Except when Keiran said it in that smirky, condescending tone—then she hated it.

  Thankfully, her best friend swooped in as soon as she saw her because Cherisse was about to have a meltdown.

  “Hey, you made it, finally!” Remi Daniels hugged her as much as the dessert boxes allowed, then gave her the once-over. “Hey, we kinda match!”

  They did indeed, hadn’t even planned that. The cute floral romper Remi sported showed off miles of her toned deep brown legs. The deep orange color splashed with pink and white flowers complimented Remi’s skin tone. Cherisse’s floral pattern was all purples and pinks.

  “Now, since you kept us all waiting on the goods, and I am your bestest friend in the whole world, I get first dibs on whatever’s in there, right? You didn’t tell me what you were bringing.”

  Remi bounced in her wedges, and normally, Cherisse would have slipped the box open a crack and allowed her to steal a cupcake, but there were other pressing matters. “I just ran into Keiran King. He said he’s the best man? Please tell me I’ve somehow wandered into the Twilight Zone. That I’m still probably so tired from last night that I hallucinated him and that entire conversation just now?”

  “Um...” Remi swept the bulk of her long curly black hair over one shoulder, fiddling with a lone curl. “I could lie to you and tell you that’s the case, or we could go set out the cakes and make everyone happy. Thus making you happy as well, because I know how much you love seeing people enjoy your goodies. And we could forget you just found that out today.”

  Cherisse narrowed her eyes. “Wait, did you know about Keiran before today?”

  “Ummm, well, you see...”

  “Hello.”

  They both turned to the older woman who’d approached. Remi looked extremely relieved at the woman’s appearance. Cherisse immediately pegged her as Eric’s mother, her sister’s future mother-in-law. The resemblance was clear. Mrs. Jones was a lighter shade of brown than her son, but they had the same hazel eyes that couldn’t decide what color to be. Today, they leaned closer to brown. Her hair was styled into one of those pixie cuts, and she wore a flowy yellow dress that swirled around her knees. Her look was simple and chic, but Cherisse had no doubt that dress cost more than her rent, the gold bracelet she sported on her wrist possibly worth twice that amount.

  “You must be Cherisse.” Mrs. Jones smiled down at the boxes. “The cake we’ve all been so eagerly waiting on, I presume?”

  Mrs. Jones’s smile remained pleasant, but her words landed like a jab about Cherisse’s lateness. “I’m so sorry to be late,” Cherisse rushed out.

  “Oh, no worries, it happens. Just be early for the wedding.” Mrs. Jones patted her arm.

  Cherisse laughed, but she wanted to crawl into a hole and bury herself. She’d started off with a shitty first impression. She wasn’t marrying Eric, but Cherisse hated to keep people waiting. She knew perfection didn’t exist, but it had been drilled into her enough that perception and image was everything. Being late for any reason made her itchy.

  “These are worth the wait, I promise you, Mrs. Jones. They won’t disappoint,” Remi said cheerily.

  Cherisse wanted to elbow Remi to shut up. She couldn’t even promise that the cakes were her best work. She’d been hustling and worried they’d turned out subpar. What if her taste buds lied? Remi hadn’t been there for a second opinion, and now she was second-guessing everything. Her reputation sure as fuck wasn’t built on mediocre-tasting treats. Excellence had gotten her to the Pastry Wars show last year, not the potentially inferior goodies she now clutched for dear life.

  Oh, God, now her stomach decided to churn. Her fingers tightened around the boxes.

  Remi flapped her hands in her direction. “Here, let’s get these set up.” She indicated the tables where the food was on display, with the cake and cupcake stands already laid out.

  The urge to step back until she made it to the front gate and out to the street was real. She’d call the driver to come get her and take her back to her apartment with the offending good enough cakes.

  “Cherry, what are you doing?” Remi’s forehead creased. “Let go of the boxes.”

  “I can’t let people eat these.”

  “Say what now?”

  Cherisse smiled over at Mrs. Jones—who silently watched the not-quite tug of war she and Remi had going on over the boxes—then whispered to her bestie, “Everything was a rush. These are probably awful. I sampled before I left home, and I think they were okay? But...oh my God, listen to me. I think they were okay? I don’t do okay, Remi. Okay isn’t my thing.”

  “Nothing you make could ever be just okay. You know it, I know it. The damn feature in Island Bites magazine and on their blog sure as shit knows it. Didn’t Merril Berry say your cakes were like magic in your mouth or something? I made sure those photos were drool-worthy, and you know they were.”

  The popular food blogger had raved about her desserts, and as a photographer for Island Bites, Remi had made certain the photos were on point, but... “Kieran basically insinuated they were overrated,” she mumbled.

  Remi made a face, mouth twisting to the side. “Keiran King is overrated. Why do you let that guy even get under your skin like this? You see him for a few seconds, and he’s already making you doubt your food? C’mon, Cherry.” She tugged at the boxes until Cherisse finally released them.

  “You just want to get a taste before everyone else.” Remi was right, though. Keiran was an irritation whose words meant nothing.

  “Damn right, I do. Best friend perks and all that. Now, go find your sis and grovel for being late. I’ll deal with this deliciousness.”

  Cherisse let Remi do her thing and pretended not to notice the questioning look Mrs. Jones shot her way. She hated the insecurities that popped up at the worst times, but after last year’s fiasco... Nope, now wasn’t the time to think about all that.

  She found Ava chatting with their parents and Eric under the shade of several mango trees. Cherisse barely had time to throw a “hi” at them and receive any disapproving looks from her mother that said Cherisse’s lateness was noted and not at all appreciated before Ava wrapped her up in a big hug.

  “I thought you ditched us.” Ava beamed. Cherisse’s stomach settled a bit. She’d thought for sure Ava would be pissed.

  “I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

  Ava played with the ends of Cherisse’s hair. “Nothing to forgive. You’re always on time, and I’m always late. I told Eric our wedding day might be the first and last thing I’m on time for, so he should appreciate that. He’s already got a bet going.”

  Cherisse grinned. It was true. Ava and punctuality didn’t go hand in hand, but she was good at charming her way out of being bawled at every time. One of the many ways they differed. Ava, younger by three year
s, taught at a primary school and had managed to snag a rich fiancé—who was sweet and totally in love with her sister, but yeah, still rich—which didn’t hurt. Cherisse would turn twenty-nine before her sister’s wedding and was single with no prospects in sight, a thing their mother kept harping on. Hopefully, with the wedding coming up in a few months, their mother would be too busy to hassle her about her man-less state for a while.

  Her work took center stage these days. She aimed to position herself as one of the go-to pastry chefs on the islands. She hadn’t grown Sweethand overnight; it had taken work, and there was still room to grow. If she sometimes got that twinge of loneliness, she curbed it immediately with a sugary treat or three. The time it took to craft her creations took her mind off everything just as much as the actual act of eating them did.

  She tugged back on the ends of Ava’s hair, where it brushed her shoulders. “Now, you gonna tell me why I didn’t know about Keiran King being Eric’s best man?”

  Ava looked a little sheepish, whiskey-brown eyes not quite meeting Cherisse’s. “I knew how you’d react. You two take this hissing at each other to the extreme. It’s been years, you both need to get over this always poking at each other. Plus, Eric’s one of his best friends.”

  “I don’t poke,” Cherisse huffed. “And since when is Eric even Keiran’s best friend? I thought that was Scott?” She remembered Keiran and Scott being inseparable. She supposed Eric had sort of been in the mix too, but she’d never really noticed them hanging out so much.

  “I said one of. You know Scott’s his number one, but Eric and Scott are giant nerds, so of course, they all got closer.” Ava hooked her arm with Cherisse’s, her bronzy-brown skin glowing next to Cherisse’s tawny complexion. Damn, she needed to hit the beach soon, get her glow on like Ava. “He’s Eric’s choice, and you’re mine, so you’re both going to have to deal with it.” Ava chewed her lip, and Cherisse braced for whatever Ava was about to drop next. “Plus, we decided on a joint bachelorette/bachelor party, so the both of you will have to figure out how to get along,” Ava rushed out, the words stringing so close together Cherisse couldn’t be sure she’d heard right.