"Nothing." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, gentle enough to make her heart ache. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."
The words should have warmed her. They did warm her. But there was something in his voice, something that didn't quite?—
The bell above the front door chimed.
"We're closed!" Hannah called, reluctantly stepping out of Jake's embrace. Who would be here this early?
"Since when has that ever stopped me?" Mary Peterson's voice carried from the front of the shop, followed by the tap of her cane against the hardwood floors. "I saw your lights on, dear. And I'm in desperate need of my morning sugar fix."
Hannah laughed, already reaching for a paper bag. Mary had been coming to Sugar & Spice every morning since Hannah's grandmother owned it. At eighty-two, she considered "closed" signs more like gentle suggestions.
"Good morning, Mary," Jake called, running a hand through his hair in a failed attempt to tame it. "How's that loose bannister treating you?"
"Much better since you fixed it, young man. Though I might need you to take a look at my kitchen cabinets next."
Hannah caught Jake's eye as she slipped past him, carrying Mary's usual order—one apple turnover and a cheese Danish. He winked, reaching for his toolbox.
This. This was everything she'd ever wanted. A man who looked at her like she hung the moon, who fixed her pipes and charmed her customers and made her feel like the luckiest woman in Crystal Lake.
The morning rushhit like a tidal wave, just as it did every day. Hannah moved through her bakery in a familiar dance—pulling fresh croissants from the oven, restocking the display case, calling out orders to Sarah, her part-time helper. The regulars filtered in and out, each greeting Jake with the easy familiarity that still made her heart squeeze.
He'd moved outside to work on the stubborn awning mechanism, rolling it in and out to test the gears. Every time he passed by the big front windows, she'd catch him watching her through the glass, his dark eyes tracking her movements with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
"Order up for table three!" Hannah called out, arranging a slice of her signature lavender honey cake on a vintage plate. She'd barely lifted the plate when Jake materialized beside her, his hand brushing the small of her back.
"I got it." He took the plate, but his fingers lingered against hers a moment too long. "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself, what with all that dancing."
"I hate you," she muttered, fighting back a smile as heat crept up her neck.
"No, you don't." He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "You like me just fine. Even Mary says so."
God help her, she liked him a lot. More than she'd ever thought possible.
And Jake—he'd never said the words. Never whisperedI love youagainst her skin in the dark, never let them slip in the quiet moments between kisses. But she knew. She felt it in the way he looked at her, in the way his hands lingered when he touched her, in the way he always—always—showed up. And that was enough. For now. She could wait until he was ready to say it, because the truth was already there, wrapped around them like warmth, like certainty.
Jake delivered the cake with the kind of easy charm that had won over every customer in Crystal Lake. He'd been in town less than a year, but watching him chat with old Mr. Wilson about last night's game, you'd think he'd lived here his whole life.
"That boy's a keeper," Sarah whispered, appearing at Hannah's elbow with a fresh tray of scones. "The way he looks at you? Like you're something precious he can't quite believe is real."
Hannah's chest tightened. "I know."
"And those arms?" Sarah fanned herself dramatically. "If you ever get tired of him fixing things around here?—"
"Not happening." Hannah hip-checked her friend toward the display case. "Go refill the coffee urns before I fire you."
Sarah's laugh carried across the bakery. "You'd never. I know all your secret recipes."
"Half of them," Hannah corrected, but she was smiling as she turned back to her work. The morning sunlight streamed through the front windows, catching on the copper wind chimes her mother had hung years ago. The whole bakery smelled like vanilla and coffee and possibility.
She was so caught up in the moment that she almost missed it—the way Jake's smile faltered when his phone buzzed, the slight frown as he read whatever message had come through. But then he was moving again, all easy grace and warm charm as he went back to work on the awning.
"Everything okay?" she asked when he passed by the counter again.
"Perfect." He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her flour-dusted knuckles. "Just like you."
But there was something in his eyes, something that made her stomach twist. Before she could ask, the bell chimed again, and a group of tourists spilled through the door, oohing and aahing over the display case.
"Welcome to Sugar & Spice!" Hannah called out, pushing down the nagging feeling in her chest. She was being silly. Everything was fine. Better than fine.
