Match Made In Paradise by Barbara Dunlop (black female authors TXT) 📕

on his offer. She was going to dust herself off and learn something that was useful to Paradise. Quitting Galina didn’t mean she would sit around while everyone else kept working.

She swallowed her pride and pretended she believed Raven when she said they’d miss her. But she couldn’t quite let it go. “I’m really sorry I didn’t do better.”

“You did fine,” Raven said heartily.

“You’re relieved.”

“I’m not relieved—”

Mia frowned. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Raven perched herself on the arm of Mia’s chair. “Okay, but you were dropped into a pretty well-oiled machine.”

“And I screwed everything up.” Mia should have known better than to barge her way in like that. She’d been so determined to learn her way around.

“The job is harder when you’re a woman,” Raven said.

“Because men are stronger and more coordinated?”

“No.” Raven paused. “Well, muscles are good in the warehouse, since it is heavy-labor work. But I meant the guys aren’t used to having pretty women around the place.”

“They have you.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Glamorous, I am not. I’m also not so new and unique, so fresh and exciting.”

Mia made a point of looking down at the work pants she still wore. “I was definitely not going for fresh and exciting.”

“We don’t get many women through town.”

“Maybe you need to get more. Maybe then I wouldn’t have caused such a stir and messed up your job.”

“You didn’t mess up my job.”

Mia lifted her brow.

“Okay, maybe a little bit. But you tried. That shows character. And you’ve really stepped up around here. You baked chicken last night.”

“I dehydrated chicken last night.”

“My oven can be tricky. We’ll grill the leftovers into sandwiches tonight, spice it up, add some mayo for moistness. It’ll taste better.”

“Alastair had a chef,” Mia said to explain her lack of cooking skills. “He was a French chef. I’m pretty sure Henri earned Michelin stars from somewhere.”

“Hey, if I had a chef, I wouldn’t be cooking my own chicken either.”

Mia cracked a grin, glancing pointedly around the least-likely house to employ a chef.

“You should have brought him with you.”

“He quit.”

“The chef quit? Why?”

Mia followed Raven into the kitchen, feeling slightly better as the conversation ranged on. “There was no prestige in working for me. I wasn’t going to host the same kinds of parties as Alastair. I don’t have his social and business circle, at least not yet.”

“Plus, you’re not there.”

“His assistant stayed on. I liked him better anyway.”

“Any news on the court case?”

“Nothing good. I talked to Marnie earlier. The court date hasn’t changed. But she did say the crowd is gone from my driveway. And last week she said negative social media is down twenty-five percent.”

“At least that’s encouraging.”

Mia had been hoping for more than just encouraging.

Raven opened a bag of bread onto the wooden cutting board and located her slicing knife. “Has Marnie tried talking directly to Henry and Hannah? Maybe they’d negotiate out of court.”

“Those two?” Mia almost laughed. “Not a chance. They want it all for themselves.”

“Any chance they’ll win?”

“Marnie says unlikely, but it’s hard to predict the judge. It’s crystal-clear from the wording of Alastair’s will that he wanted me to have the business. The only thing they have to stand on is whether I manipulated or coerced him.”

“Because you’re young and pretty.”

“Therefore, I can’t be trusted.”

Raven sliced her way through the bread while Mia went to the fridge for the chicken. “It’s because you stand out.”

“Stand out?” Mia opened the container.

“Your situation is unusual, not unheard-of, but still unusual: a stunning classy woman marrying an older, rather plain-looking man. You stand out, and it draws attention to itself. People start speculating. Same basic problem in the Galina warehouse.”

“You lost me.” Mia tore the chicken into strips.

Raven smeared some mayonnaise on the bread slices. “If there were a dozen drop-dead glamorous women working in the warehouse, the guys wouldn’t look twice.”

Washing her hands, Mia laughed, feeling lighter still. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You should have brought along some friends.” Raven licked a dollop of mayo from her fingertip.

“I should have. And then there wouldn’t have been a poker game. And Brodie wouldn’t resent me so much.”

“Brodie doesn’t resent you.”

“Please.”

“He . . . okay, he notices you because you stand out.”

“I’m cutting my hair,” Mia threatened, twisting her thick blond locks into her fist on top of her head.

“Won’t work. It’s your cheekbones and your eyes and your nose and chin.”

“I can’t exactly get rid of those. At least not without surgery.”

“No respectable plastic surgeon anywhere is going to mess with your face.”

“I wish there were a dozen city women here with me, so I wasn’t so alone in this.”

Raven struck up the stove beneath a heavy cast-iron frying pan and tossed some butter in to melt. “So does Zeke. He’s bummed that he struck out with you.”

Mia layered the chicken onto the bread slices, while Raven sliced up a tomato. “Zeke’s a nice guy.”

“He asked me if I could ship in another woman for him.”

Mia paused as she added cheese to the sandwiches. “Ship a woman in? Do people think you shipped me in?”

“My own fault, really. I brag that I can find anything and ship it to anywhere. It’s mostly true. I’m pretty good at my job, but that was a joke.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound half creepy.”

“He didn’t mean it to be creepy. He really is a nice guy.”

Raven set the sandwiches into the sizzling butter, layered on the tomato and topped each with another slice of bread.

“Celeste would like him,” Mia said, knowing it was true and thinking it would be a very fun match-up.

“Who’s Celeste?”

“One of our designers. She’s smart, pretty, laid-back and understated. She’d like Zeke’s gentlemanly streak.”

“He grew up in South Carolina. He gets it from there.”

Sandwich sizzling in the background, the two women stared at each other. Mia wondered if Raven was thinking the same thing as her.

“You’re going to burn them,” Mia interjected.

Raven turned and quickly flipped the sandwiches over, adjusting the propane flame down.

Flipper in hand, she pivoted again. “We couldn’t, could we?”

“No.” Mia