“They tell you what you’re buying.”
She grins. “Sure. But it’s the Heart-to-Heart Festival. People want romance. Something warm, and something sweet.”
“They want food,” I say. “They want it fast. They want it to taste good, and they don’t care what it’s called.”
“Or,” she counters, stepping closer, “they want a Caramel Heartburst Muffin.”
I stare at her. “That’s not real.”
“It could be.”
“It won’t be.”
She laughs under her breath and looks at me with a sparkle in her eyes that, unfortunately, makes my pulse do something I’m not prepared for at six in the morning.
“Alright,” she says softly. “We’ll revisit that later.”
“You can revisit it. I’ll supervise.”
“I look forward to that.”
I feel the pull between us, it’s strong enough that I know she feels it too
Maisie tugs my sleeve again, leaning close. “Daddy,” she whispers loudly. “She sounds nice.”
I nod. “She does.”
The way she looks at Maisie puts a pressure in my chest I can’t ignore
“So,” Charlotte says, pulling her clipboard up. “Want to walk me through the space you’ll be using for the gala tasting? I’d love to get a feel for the flow of things.”
“Sure,” I say. “Follow me.”
I guide her toward the side prep area, aware of the warmth of her presence beside me. She doesn’t hover close, but she doesn’t keep too much distance either, to me, it’s very noticeable. As is the way she looks around like she already cares about this place. Like she’s trying to understand it instead of just getting through the meeting.
“Your bakery has good energy,” she says lightly.
“Energy?” I ask, amused.
She shrugs. “I notice things. People. Places. It’s part of the job, I guess. But this place feels… welcoming.”
I glance at her. “We try.”
“You succeed.”
There’s sincerity in her voice. No flattery, just truth, and for some reason, it hits harder than I expect.
I clear my throat. “So, the tasting. You were saying?”
“I was saying,” she teases gently. “That I think your chai cookies would be a perfect signature item, but you’re going to hate my name suggestion for them.”
“I already hate it,” I say.
“You don’t even know it.”
“I have a sense.”
She laughs again, and my body reacts like I’ve known her for more than three minutes, which is concerning.
