Whipped Cream of the Crop (The Way To A Man's Heart Book 11) Read online

  Whipped Cream of the Crop

  The Way To A Man’s Heart Book 11

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Whipped Cream of the Crop

  Chapter 1

  Mills

  Mallory

  Chapter 2

  Mills

  Mallory

  Chapter 3

  Mills

  Mallory

  Chapter 4

  Mills

  Mallory

  Chapter 5

  Mills

  Mallory

  Chapter 6

  Mills

  Mallory

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Want More?

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Whipped Cream of the Crop

  The Way to A Man’s Heart Book 11

  By Frankie Love

  When I see her at the coffee shop sipping hot cocoa, I know she’s something extra sweet.

  And it’s not just the whipped cream on her nose.

  It’s her curves, her smile, and the way she laughs as I choose a seat right across from her.

  Thing is, this girl has unrealistic expectations of her dream man.

  He’s got to be the cream of the crop, and I’m not sure any guy is gonna live up to it.

  But now that I’ve tasted her cream, I sure as hell have to try.

  Dear Reader,

  Screw pumpkin spice lattes, this year it’s all about the hot chocolate!

  Forget the to-go cups, this romantic read was written for a cozy night in!

  #extrawhip #sprinkesplease #nosuchthingastoomuch

  xo, frankie

  Chapter One

  Mills

  “Man,” Trent says with a laugh, "you schooled me."

  "I told you." I chuckle, jumping off the rock wall, my feet landing against the cushy ground that I’ve just installed around it.

  "I knew you were good, but…” Trent laughs, running a hand over his jaw. "You know, I've been working out every day for a year and still you killed me.”

  “I've been doing this for twenty years,” I say, "so don't feel bad."

  Trent grabs his water bottle and takes a drink as I head over to the gym owner and catch him up. "What do you think?" I ask Grayson, pointing to the now finished rock-wall.

  "It looks incredible," he says, "and I have twenty guys coming tomorrow for a training session before you head out of town."

  "Of course, looking forward to it."

  "I'm so glad we were able to have you here. I feel like we won the gym owner lottery."

  "Hey, it's my pleasure to help out my cousin. He raves about this place and this whole town."

  "Yeah?" Grayson says. "Where do you live?"

  "I live in Seattle, but I wouldn't mind getting a slower pace of life."

  "Then you should think about moving out here. Though, something's in the water, every guy at this gym has gotten hitched over the last few years."

  "Maybe it's not the water," I say. "Maybe it's something they're eating."

  "Maybe," Grayson says.

  "Well, what about you?" I ask. "You're single?"

  He nods. "Yep, maybe one day I'll find my perfect person. But until then, I got this gym to run."

  "I understand," I say. "Being a business owner myself has changed things. I’m home a lot more now and turns out, I don’t miss life on the road at all.”

  Grayson nods. "What about tonight? Do you have any plans?"

  “Trent asked me if I want to go out with him and Trista, but she's got some coworkers joining her and I'm honestly spent. I think I'm just going to go back to the hotel and call it a night. Maybe grab some food to go."

  "There's a bunch of food trucks down at the water if you want to head that way,” Grayson suggests.

  "Sounds good," I say. "I think first I need to go get something sweet across the street at the coffee shop. After that workout, I earned it.”

  "All right. Well, have a good night, we'll see you in the morning."

  A bunch of guys have just showed up at the gym, Trent's buddies who I've met from time to time when I've come and visited him. Most of them seem like they've just gotten off work and are getting in an hour of exercise before they head home.

  "I'll see you tomorrow, Trent," I say, patting his back, "and thanks for the competition."

  "Hardly," Trent says, chuckling. "But I'll see you in the morning. Okay? Trista is going to come too."

  "Yeah?" I say, "That's awesome."

  "Yeah, maybe there'll be some other women here too. Maybe you can meet somebody."

  "What are you trying to say, Trent?" I ask, pulling on my jacket and grabbing my bag. It's full-on fall and the weather's turned. The leaves outside are red and yellow and there’s a chill in the air.

  “Maybe Trista will bring a friend with her,” Trent says, "and you can meet a nice girl to move here and settle down with."

  "I don't know if a nice girl is going to want to settle down with me. When they find out what I used to do for a living, they’ll think I'm too much of a risk."

  I leave the gym and cross the street to the coffee shop I'd eyed earlier. I'm not tired and don't want to go to sleep in the hotel room right away. I'm feeling antsy in a way I haven't in a long time. Maybe Trent is onto something. The idea of settling down, finding a partner, doesn’t sound scary. In fact, it sounds like it’s about damn time.

  I run a hand through my hair as I walk into the coffee shop, the sweet and bitter smells blending together. I scan the shop before making my way to the register and my eyes land on a woman who looks more than delicious.

  She's sipping hot cocoa, a pile of books on the table around her, with a laptop open.

  My heart skips a fucking beat. Finally, something to pick me up.

  I head to the cash register, ready to buy a drink and then meet the woman of my dreams.

  Mallory

  Grading midterms is never fun, but being at my neighborhood coffee shop with my favorite hot cocoa in hand is making it slightly better. I take another sip before setting down the extra-large mug and running my eyes over the next term paper I need to grade. Hopefully this one will be more articulate than the last few I read.

  I like being an economics professor at the local university. It's rewarding and interesting and fulfills me in all the ways I ever hoped a career would. But landing my dream job has been my life’s focus for 27 years. Well, maybe not exactly 27. I figure my first few years of life, I spent learning to walk and talk. But as soon as I settled on reading, I never looked back. Craving information and data was the way I made sense of a world that otherwise seemed chaotic.

  I take another sip of the hot cocoa as the bells on the shop’s entrance jingle and a customer enters. He looks around the shop, taking in the space.

  I've never seen him before but the moment our eyes lock, my belly flip-flops because he's not just some random guy looking for a cup of Joe. No, this man is gorgeous. Muscular, very fit, a silver fox who looks young at heart — he is wearing the warmest smile I’ve ever seen. He’s maybe in his early forties, with a good head of hair and a jawline that makes me all kinds of tingly.r />
  I sit up straighter and consider what I'm wearing. Not too bad, one of my favorite dresses with pockets, of course. It’s the middle of fall, and the dress is black. I’ve wrapped an orange scarf around my neck, and painted my nails orange and black last night while watching Married At First Glance. I’m feeling very seasonal. And very glad I am not wearing ratty sweats like I rock at home.

  The seat opposite me is empty and I have this insane inkling that as soon as this man orders his coffee, he's going to sit down there. And while reality TV habits might suggest otherwise, I’m not the kind of person who believes in fate or destiny. No, I'm a numbers girl through and through, fact checking and data analyzing, but there's something about him that makes me want to kick my chair out and offer him a seat. Not that I am that forward.

  Turns out I don't need to be. He's walking over with a mug in his hand, lifting an eyebrow, pointing to the chair.

  "May I?" he asks.

  I nod silently, wishing and praying for what? I'm not sure. Maybe a chance?

  "I'm Mills," he says, offering me his hand as he sits down.

  I reach out and I shake it, and I have this insane desire to let our hands linger. My spine tingles and I lick my lips. He, however, has pressed his forefinger to his nose, tapping it once, then twice.

  "What?” I ask, eyes widening and wiping at my nose. Oh my God. I groan, realizing I have whipped cream on my nose.

  "Don't be embarrassed," he says, "I thought it looked cute."

  Now that is interesting. I lift an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" I say. "You like your girls covered in whipped cream?"

  Now it's his turn to lift an eyebrow and he grins. "I've never had the pleasure, but I can't imagine I wouldn't enjoy it."

  My cheeks go bright pink and I cringe. "I can't believe I just said that."

  "It's okay," he says, chuckling. "But tell me, what's your name?"

  "I'm Mallory," I tell him. "Mallory Jones."

  "Well, Mallory Jones, I'm pleased to meet you, whipped cream and all."

  Chapter Two

  Mills

  The moment I sit down, I have a good feeling about her, about this night, about whatever happens next. She's adorable, beautiful, sexy in ways I don't think she realizes. I want to tug that orange scarf off from her neck and bind her wrists with it, which might be a little hardcore, but it's been a while. A long while. And a woman like her? I shake my head. Damn. She looks better than the hot cocoa I'm drinking, which is saying something. I'm a bit of a hot chocolate aficionado.

  "I've never seen you before,” she says, closing her laptop and stacking the papers in front of her, neat in a row, the corners matching. She has a stack of books on the other side of her and I can tell she's been hard at work. "Yeah. I've just been in town the last few days, for work."

  "What line of work?" she asks.

  "I install rock climbing walls at gyms."

  "Oh, really?" she says. "That's interesting."

  "Is it?" I say, chuckling. "My old line of work was a hell of a lot more interesting."

  "And what was that?" she asks, lifting her cocoa to her mouth.

  "I rock climbed for a living."

  "That's risky."

  I chuckle again. "Yeah. That's what every woman says."

  "Oh yeah? Do you have any particular woman right now?" she asks.

  I shake my head, "No, that's the problem. My line of work scared ladies away. I was a free climber, which means I didn't use a harness or anything when I scaled the side of a mountain."

  "I saw a documentary about that once," she says. "My brother insisted on watching it. It was called No Fear, but I had to keep leaving the room. It was too terrifying. I kept thinking he was going to fall."

  "That was me,” I tell her. “Or at least, a documentary about me.”

  "Oh my God,” she says. "That's incredible." She smiles. "But I can see why it would be hard to find someone to date in that line of work. I didn't even know you and couldn't stand to watch you. But you don't climb anymore?"

  "No," I say. "I retired a few years ago. Decided to start my own business and I enjoy encouraging people to experience what I love. There's a challenge to it that is pretty rewarding."

  "That's fascinating," she says.

  “Are you tugging my chain?” I ask, surprised by her interest. "Fascinating?"

  "What?" she exclaims. "It is. I think it's really interesting to hear why people do what they do."

  "And what is it you do, Mallory?” I ask. “It looks like you're a hard worker."

  "I am a professor at the university. It’s my first year and I teach economics. I'm trying to get through some midterm papers, but grading has been difficult. I've been distracted."

  "Oh yeah, and what has you distracted?"

  She twists her lips. “Honestly? I’ve been reading this book and I can't get enough of it."

  "What book?" I ask, eyeing her stack.

  "This one,” she says, pulling it out.

  "Cream of the Crop: Why you should never settle for Mr. Okay when the best is waiting to be found,” I read aloud. "A dating book?"

  "A relationship book,” she clarifies. "My friends are all getting married and it's just, do you ever feel like you're getting left behind?"

  "I can understand that,” I say. "I've just been with my buddy, my cousin the last few days. And I swear every one of his friends has gotten married in the last few years."

  She laughs. "Exactly. I think there's something in the water in this town or… something in the food." She takes another drink of her hot cocoa. And so do I.

  “Well, if there is something in the food,” I say, taking a risk, "do you want to get dinner?"

  Mallory

  "Dinner?" I say, surprised at how forward Mills is, but also appreciating it. He's confident, and charming, and handsome, but... I swallow. "Before I answer," I say, "I feel like I need to run it past this list in the book."

  He grins. "Really? You're not just going to follow your gut instinct on this?"

  I press my lips together. "The problem is, trusting my gut has never worked out for me. This book is just cementing that for me. I’m practicing being risk-averse.”

  "What do you mean, risk-averse?" I shrug.

  "I don't want to experience pain or heartache, so I protect myself."

  "Is protect yourself code for keep everyone at arm's length?"

  I laugh, a full belly laugh. "Okay, so you cut straight to the heart of things. The heart of me. Yes, I'm not exactly one to get all cozy with a stranger."

  "So is this your way of saying you don't want to go out to dinner with me?"

  "No," I say, "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying I don't want to get myself in a situation where I fall head over heels for a man I just met, only to find out," I hold up the book, "you are not the cream of the crop."

  "And you need a book to tell you whether or not I'm worth a dinner date?" He crosses his arms. I see his biceps bulge. God, this man is ripped. "Okay," he says, "I'm not trying to be hard on you. I get it. Life sucks, and then you die. So if you want to avoid some of that heartache, I won't hold it against you." He takes the book from my hand. “But just let me see what these chapters are, to get a feel for where you're coming from."

  I roll my eyes playfully as he opens the book.

  "Chapter One, Job Compatibility. Chapter Two, Household Habits." He frowns. "What's that mean?"

  I lick my lips. "It means, you know, if you're both messy or both really clean, it will work out well for you. But if you're…"

  “Opposites, it's going to fail?" he finishes. "That's ridiculous. My mom is a neat freak, my dad leaves his socks everywhere. They've been happily married for 50 years."

  "Well, it's not always like that," I say, pushing back. "My parents were opposites and they got divorced."

  "So do 50 percent of all married people," he says.

  "Well, I don't want to be in that half, so if I can avoid it…"

  "By following the rules in this book?" he asks. “
You will.”

  I nod. "Exactly, then why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't I want to hedge my bets?”

  “Okay, Chapter Three," he says. "Want the Same Thing. What does the expert say about that?”

  "Right," she says, "so if one person owns a house and the other one doesn't, that could create a problem early on in dating."

  "How?" he asks. "Wouldn't that be perfect? They can both move into the house that the one owns. Done deal."

  "Maybe," I say, "but it could also mean that you have different life goals, different ways of spending money. It could create problems down the road.”

  “ I just feel like it's looking for problems. I saw this show, Married at First Glance," he tells me and I smile. Who is this man? "I was on an airplane, okay?" he says, probably thinking it might not be the most macho thing to admit. "Anyways, these people had never even seen each other. Got married, sight unseen, and fell madly in love."

  "Yes, but shows like that gather the data, do the research. They make sure that the couple will be a good match. That's what I'm doing."

  "Oh, I see," he says, "so run the data on me. How do I fare?"

  I swallow. "I don't know anything about you."

  "Maybe you can screw the data for one night. I think your gut is telling you it's a yes, while your head is telling you it's a risk."

  "That's exactly what's happening," I say.

  "So how will you decide?"

  She bites the side of her lip. "This is ridiculous. I told myself I'm not dating anyone else who doesn't fit this criteria. I was going to make Cream of the Crop my bible."