Henry: It’s your friendly neighborhood baker, Henry Hunter. Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.
She reads it, and a smile —a real, genuine smile that transforms her whole face— spreads across her lips.
“Thank you, Henry Hunter.” She opens the door, cold air rushing in. “I’ll text you later.”
“Hey, Willa?”
She turns back.
“You be safe today.” I hold her gaze. “I’ll see you at three.”
She nods, that smile still playing at her lips and climbs out of the truck.
I watch her walk into the clinic, and I’m still sitting there like an idiot when she disappears through the glass doors.
My phone buzzes.
Bossman… great.
Mark: So?
Henry: So what?
Mark: Did you get her number?
Henry: Maybe.
Mark: That’s my boy. Don’t fuck it up.
I laugh and put the truck in reverse. But as I drive back to the bakery, all I can think about is the way she smiled at me. The way her eyes lit up, just for a second, before the walls came back up.
I’ve spent five years protecting Ben from getting hurt again. Five years telling myself I don’t need anyone else. That we’re fine, just the two of us.
But Willa Monroe walked into my bakery three months ago, and suddenly “fine” doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
I wantmorethan fine.
I want her.
And for the first time since Jenna left, I’m willing to risk getting hurt again to find out if she wants me too.
I hita button to call my man, Jake the mechanic.
“Hey, man. Need a favor,” I say while turning back toward the bakery.
“What’s up?” Jake sounds amused, like he already knows I’m about to ask him something ridiculous.
“There’s a sedan in the bakery parking lot. Dead alternator. Can you take a look, get it fixed today?”
“Today? Henry, I’m backed up until?—”
“Jake. Please.” I pause. “It’s for… her.”
Silence.
He says slowly, “The coffee girl? The one you’ve been mooning over for three months?”
“I don’t moon,” I shoot back quickly.
