Page 24 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter twenty-four
Cam
T he bell above the candy shop door jingles softly as I step inside, and I pause for a moment to breathe it all in. One week until launch day.
The place smells like vanilla and sugar and the faintest hint of caramel from my morning experiments. Sunlight streams in through the big bay windows, catching in the display jars like it’s blessing every gumdrop and ribbon of taffy.
It’s beautiful. It’s almost perfect.
But something’s missing.
I turn a slow circle in the middle of the shop, arms crossed over my apron. Everything’s clean, bright, and welcoming. Shelves are stocked, signs are hand-lettered and hanging with care. My Gram would call this a “Pinterest-worthy miracle.”
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that the heart of the place isn’t quite in place yet.
I glance toward the back counter where I’ve laid out several small batches of experimental candy. A few decent ones, some disasters, and one that turned out so sticky it’s still fused to the tray.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, staring at the notebook on the counter.
It’s the one I found back at the house, the one Azalea and I used to scribble ideas in.
There, between recipes for lemon drops and old notes about edible glitter, was a candy I barely remember.
The one I’d found before Gram had fallen.
A scrawl in Zae’s handwriting: “For rainy days or heartbreaks. One bite = better.”
Beneath it, a list of vague ingredients, half of which don’t make sense. One is literally labeled “petal sugar.” I have no idea what that means.
I read it again for the fifth time, brow furrowed. “Petal sugar. Like... infused? Extracted?”
I groan and shut the notebook, frustration buzzing under my skin. I need this. I need something that’s hers. Something that’s ours. A candy that no other shop would have. A signature.
I grab my cardigan off the hook and decide to take a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help.
But I don’t make it three steps out the door before nearly walking straight into a very solid chest.
Theo steadies me before I can stumble, his hand warm on my elbow. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to ambush you.”
I blink up at him, momentarily startled. He looks freshly showered, wind-tousled, and casually rumpled in a way that makes it unfairly hard to breathe for a second.
“Hey,” I say, tugging my cardigan tighter around myself. “No ambush. I just wasn’t watching.”
His eyes soften. “You okay? You looked like you were about to storm the sidewalk.”
“Trying to clear my head,” I admit, waving vaguely at the shop. “Everything’s coming together, but... there’s this one candy. A recipe my sister started. It’s incomplete, or maybe just impossible. But I keep thinking about it, and—”
He grins a little. “A candy mystery?”
“Exactly!” I laugh, relieved he doesn’t think I’m ridiculous. “I found it in an old notebook. She called it heartbreak candy, and one of the ingredients is 'petal sugar,' which—what even is that?”
“Sounds poetic.”
“Or made up.”
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, thoughtful. “Well, if anyone in Starling Grove could help decode it, maybe the library has something. Old cookbooks? Botanical references?”
I tilt my head. “You think so?”
“Definitely worth a shot. Besides,” he says, pushing off the frame, “I’ve got a soft spot for culinary mysteries. Especially if they involve sugar.”
I smile, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm spark something inside me. “Alright. Let’s go.”
As we step onto the sidewalk, I slip my arm through his without thinking, our pace syncing easily. We walk like that—connected and just a little too close for comfort—until I realize what I’ve done.
I glance down, startled by how natural it felt. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Neither do I.