Then—
The front bellchimed.
They tore apart like guilty teenagers, breathless, flour still dusting their clothes.
A long,chargedsilence filled the space.
Hannah took a step back, chest rising and falling rapidly. She lifted her hand to her lips like she could still feel him there.
The flour on her body betrayed them both. The places his fingers had gripped her waist, where his hands had slid over her curves—it was smeared into her apron, rubbed away completely in places.
His thumbprint was still visible on her cheekbone. His lips had erased the flour from her mouth.
Jake swallowed hard, fingers curling at his sides.
The bakery door chimed again, and a muffled voice called out from the front. "Hello? Anyone here?"
Hannah blinked, reality slamming back into place.
She took another step back, turned toward the door. "I—I should?—"
Jake nodded, throat too tight for words.
She was gone a moment later, leaving him standing there,wrecked.
Hands shaking.
Heart hammering.
Wanting her so badly ithurt.
Jake was recoilingthe fire station hose when his phone buzzed. He finished the roll, exhaling hard, then wiped sweat from his forehead before grabbing his phone.
Hannah.
A spike of adrenaline hit his bloodstream before logic kicked in. She wouldn't be calling unless?—
He answered before the second ring. "Hannah?"
Silence. Shaky breathing.
His stomach clenched. "What happened?"
A long pause. Then?—
"It's nothing."
That was a lie.
"Hannah." He was already moving to the door. "Talk to me."
A sound—frustrated, embarrassed—came through the line. "It's stupid. I shouldn't have called."
But shehadcalled. And that alone meant something.
"Tell me what's wrong."
A beat. Then: "The pilot light went out."
