Sebastian
Ipullherintomy arms, leaving just enough space to avoid becoming instant gossip, but close enough to feel the warmth rolling off her. One hand settles at her waist — soft, warm — while the other folds around hers. Her fingers curl gently against my palm. Her breath escapes in delicate white clouds.
We sway to the music, awkward at first, then easy. Natural. She’s small compared to me. Curvy and soft where I’m rough edges and muscle, and something in me wants to wrap her up andneverlet go.
“You’re a good dancer, ladder man,” she says softly.
I huff a quiet laugh. “That’s because we’re barely moving, bakehouse.”
“It’s still nice. You can call me Willa, you know,” she murmurs.
“I know.” My gaze dips to her mouth. “I like calling you Bakehouse. But I’ll call you Willa. Willa Mathews.”
“Sebastian Ford. Yeah, Loretta filled me in.”
“I know she did. Of course, she did.”
We fall into silence. Her lashes are thick and dark. Her lips part slightly when she breathes.
I’m staring again. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Why Hope Peak?” I ask quietly. “Why now? You could’ve sold the bakery.”
She swallows. I feel it beneath my hand.
“Because there was nothing left for me at home. Because my ex-fiancé thought my curves were only okay if I hid them under clotheshepicked out. Because my mother told me to follow my heart. Because my grandmother believed in me, even though we never met, and I’m not going to waste that.”
Her chin lifts.
“Because I want to build something that’s mine. Something people come to for warmth and sweetness. Something thatlasts.”
Something twists in my chest.
“You will,” I say. “You already are.”
She smiles.
Then the song ends, and she steps back. The cold rushes in like a slap. I want to pull her close again, but I make myself let go.
She looks like she’s about to say something else —
And then I hear it.
“Sebastian.”
My spine locks. So does hers.
I turn, and there she is.
Marla.
All sleek hair, long legs, and perfume trying too hard. Marla, who cheated. Marla, who left me for a tourist, then somehow twisted it likeIlet her down. Marla, who has apparently decidedtonightis the perfect time to show up and stir the pot.
“What do you want?” I ask, voice flat.
“Just saying hi,” she says, smiling like a shark. “It’s been a while, Sebastian. You never call.”
I glance at Willa. Her expression is unreadable now. She takes a half step back, giving me space. Like she thinks she should.
