Loved You First (Jenlisa) COMPLETED

1

There's just something about chocolate.

It's enough to cause a person to abandon the rest of the world in favor of complete immersion in the power of its taste. Few things in life compare. Jennie Kim knew this as clearly as she knew the sun was going to rise the next day. It was an inarguable fact of life.

She concentrated, biting her bottom lip, as she folded the ribbons of dark chocolate in the pan once, twice, and a final time before sampling her work with her index finger. She closed her eyes in surrender.

Perfection.

Next, she checked the thermometer in the pan. An even ninety-one degrees.

Showtime.

One by one, she bathed each truffle in the dark chocolate coating before rolling it in the cocoa powder that would offer a nice contrast to the amaretto in the truffle. Finally, she placed the last truffle on the wire rack with a slight twist of her wrist. She set the timer and took her spot on top of the stepladder nestled in the kitchen's corner and waited in anticipation for the required twelve minutes to creep by.

She felt good about things this time. She'd used a tad too much heavy cream in the ganache on the last go-round, and the hint of coconut she'd added this time might be the missing link to bridge the flavors.

The kitchen was quiet while she waited, the morning just getting started. Distantly, she heard the bell in the front of the shop, but ignored it. She checked the clock again.

It was time.

Biting slowly into a truffle, she closed her eyes and allowed the flavors to play in her mouth as she assessed. It was closer this time. She was on to something, but the recipe wasn't quite there yet.

Damn it.

Just a hint too sweet. It lacked balance.

The bell. A second time.

Where was Dara? With an exaggerated sigh, she abandoned her project and made her way from the kitchen to the front of the bakeshop.

Lee Minho, one of the regulars, scowled deeply at her.

"Well, it sure took you long enough."

It was nothing new. Sort of his thing. He harassed her daily and she smiled through it. The man was pushing sixty and pretended to hate the world. The problem was he didn't and everyone knew it.

"Good morning, Minho. Sorry about the wait. Just taking care of a few things in the back. Your usual?"

Minho eyed the display case suspiciously.

"What are those?"

She followed his gaze.

"Caramel apple cinnamon rolls. Made with cream cheese frosting. My father's recipe."

He studied her skeptically. It was rare for him to deviate from his standard blueberry muffin. He was a staunch creature of habit.

"Are they fresh?"

"Made this very morning."

He rolled his eyes as if he couldn't stand another minute of her. It was part of his charm.

"I'll take two and a cup of joe. Regular, not decaf." He scowled deeper. "Don't you think you should write it down, for heaven's sake?"

She grinned patiently. "Two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. I think I got it."

"Good thing you can bake or you people would run this place into the ground. Your father never used to keep his customers waiting. Where's Dara?"

He scanned the area behind the counter for any glimpse.