I glance down at the cinnamon roll in my hand. Warm. Gooey. Comfort wrapped in sugar and spice.
“Want one?” I ask, holding it up. “First batch from my new oven.”
Sebastian’s brow furrows. He looks from the cinnamon roll to me and back again like I might be offering a trap.
“You’re giving away free food?”
“Consider it a bribe. I need friends. And I hear the fastest way to make them is through their stomachs.”
Something flickers behind his eyes. Amusement, maybe. Or surprise that I said it out loud.
He steps forward, stopping at the base of the porch.
Up close, he smells like pine, woodsmoke, and something clean. Soap, maybe.
I realize I’m holding my breath again.
He reaches out and takes the cinnamon roll. His fingers brush mine. Callused. Warm. The scrape of his skin against mine sends a quiet zing through my whole body.
He clears his throat, looking away quickly.
“Thank you,” he says, gruff. “I’ll, uh... let you know if it’s good.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, teasing. “No pressure at all.”
He nods and turns toward his truck. I watch him take a bite.
Mid-step, he freezes. His shoulders drop.
When he looks back at me, something’s changed in his gaze.
Hunger.
And not just for cinnamon.
“It’s good,” he says. Like it costs him to admit it. “Real good.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. A slow, golden kind. “Glad to hear it. Tell your guests I’ll be open in two days. I’m still figuring out the register and the setup today.”
He hesitates, then gestures toward the street. “Annual Christmas tree lighting’s tonight. Town square. Six o’clock. Everyone’ll be there. Good place to meet folks.”
My heart kicks at the invitation. “You going?”
He shrugs. One deliberate shoulder. “Have to. I’m on ladder duty. Tree’s thirty feet tall, and the mayor’s scared of heights.”
I laugh. “Then I guess I’ll see you there, ladder man.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. Not quite a smile. But close enough to make me forget what cold feels like.
“Guess you will, bakehouse.”
He turns away, and I lean against the porch post, pressing a hand to my chest like I can calm the rush inside it.
I’m in trouble.
Big, broad,lumberjacktrouble.
Chapter 4
