Except then Shepherd cleared his throat. "We don't expect anything. We just want to help, if you'll let us."
What the fondant?
She swung back to face them.
Shepherd, who looked even taller in the bakery’s golden morning light, stared at the floor with a penitence so palpable that Evie nearly laughed. He’d always struck her as the kind of man who’d rather be shot than apologize, but here he was, trying anyway.
Asher, hands jammed deep in the pockets of his pea coat, refused to meet her gaze, and Gabe - sharp, clever, always a step ahead - actually looked like he might faint if she didn’t say something soon.
The three emotionally reticent men crowded into her kitchen, lined up like boys who had been caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. Evie wanted to stay annoyed. She tried to. But just beneath the surface of her resolve was a flicker of something desperate and childlike - an urge to be wanted, to be chosen, to be the person who mattered enough to make someone brave the indignity of a face-to-face apology and try to make things up to her. She knew she was supposed to let it slide, play it cool, make a joke or a snarky comment and sweep the mess under the rug and let them off the hook with no restitution necessary.
That was what Evie Montgomery did. She put a fresh coat of sugar on every disaster and called it progress.
But when she dared glance up for a second, she saw the truth on their faces. They meant it. They didn’t know what to do with that sincerity, either, and the clumsy weight of their remorse hung between them like the smell of yeast in the air - warm, persistent, and impossible to ignore.
Oh, for frosting’s sake! She was going to crumble. She could already feel herself softening like room-temperature butter. She tried to stiffen her resolve. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
Shepherd stepped forward, his voice low and earnest. "I'd like to help with deliveries. I know you've been struggling to keep up, especially with the holiday rush."
Evie blinked, caught off guard by the practical offer. She hadn't expected that.
“And I can watch your stand at the festival, since it’s right next to mine. I know it’s hard being in two places at once, even with Jane helping out in the shop.”
She didn’t have time to assimilate Asher’s offer before Gabe jumped in.
"And I thought I could assist with your bookkeeping. I know you’ve been fretting about your first-year bottom line.” He paused. “I mean, not right now, of course. But in the new year, when everything settles down.”
It was a sensible suggestion. Everyone cut back in the new year. People made resolutions to lose the Christmas weight, and Edith used to insist on closing the bakery for two weeks from Christmas Day, although Evie had always relented and taken new year orders for delivery, even though the doors of the shop stayed closed.
The January lull would hit the Evergreen Hotel too, and Evie felt a flicker of warmth at Gabe’s thoughtfulness, even as she tried to squash it down. She couldn't let herself be swayed so easily. Could she?
"I... I don't know what to say," Evie stammered. The constructive offers of help addressed real needs she'd been struggling with. A part of her wanted to refuse out of stubborn pride, but another part recognized how much easier things would be with their assistance.
She looked at each of them in turn, searching their faces. Shepherd's quiet intensity, Asher's hopeful smile, and Gabriel's composed yet earnest expression. There was no hint of insincerity that she could detect. Just three men who seemed genuinely sorry and resolved to make amends in tangible ways.
Evie felt her anger and hurt subside, replaced by a cautious gratitude at their thoughtfulness. Maybe they could salvage things after all and be… friends.
Her grandmother had always said no one was so rich that they could afford to turn down friendship. So Evie took a deep breath, allowed the comforting smells of cinnamon and vanilla from her morning's baking to fill her lungs, and made her decision.
"Okay," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. She could do this. Just because she’d thought something more might happen with each and every one of these guys, and it hadn’t, didn’t mean she couldn’t put that behind her, be the bigger person, and be friends with them. She was an adult. She could handle this… even if her heart was a little sad.
"I appreciate your offers," Evie said, smoothing her apron. "If you're really serious about helping, I could use the extra hands."
And that was how it started.
Chapter
Thirteen
EVIE
Every evening when he closed up the coffee shop, Shepherd wandered into the bakery and helped her package up the day’s orders that weren’t being collected. Then he’d stack them all in his small, practical van and play delivery guy.
It was sweet, and helpful, and gave Evie little - okay, big - flutters in her tummy.
She was grateful, that’s all. Well, she tried to convince herself that’s all it was, anyway. She certainly didn’t need to set herself up for more rejection. That thought was sobering.
It might seem like a small thing to other people, maybe even to Shepherd himself, but it gave her so much more time. When she looked through her finances with Gabriel in the new year, she needed to work out whether it was something she could afford to pay someone to do full-time.
