We talk through the logistics, scheduling, tasting quantities, and serving order. She takes fast notes, asks smart questions, and actually listens. She’s steady, put-together, and easy to work with.
At one point she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and I catch myself staring at the motion like an idiot.
Get it together, Liam.
She finishes her notes and closes her clipboard. “Thank you. This is really helpful.”
“No problem,” I say, leaning one hand on the counter to ground myself. “Anything else you need?”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking to my mouth before she looks away. It's quick. So quick I almost convince myself I imagined it.
Almost.
“No,” she says softly. “I think that’s it for now.”
“Good.”
Her eyes stay on mine a heartbeat too long, and the heat in them hits and my gut clenches.
And then she steps back. “I’ll let you get back to opening.”
Maisie bolts to her side before she can make it to the door. “Will you come back?”
Charlotte kneels and smiles gently. “Yes. I’ll be here a lot this week.”
Maisie glances up at me. “Daddy, she’s coming back.”
“I heard,” I say.
Charlotte laughs, stands, and gives me one last look. “See you soon, Liam.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “See you.”
The bell rings as she leaves, and I watch her walk down the sidewalk, clipboard against her chest, hair swinging with each step.
She disappears around the corner.
Maisie sighs dramatically. “Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“I like her.”
I swallow. “Yeah,” I say. “I think I do too.”
Chapter 2
Charlotte
I am halfwaydown Main Street when that little flip hits my stomach again. It turns up every time I think about the bakery, which is happening often enough that I should probably be concerned. I have been in Valentine for two days now and somehow I’m acting like I’ve been here for a lot longer.
It’s not the pastries doing it. It’s the man behind the counter. And maybe the kid who watched me like she was deciding whether she approved.
People are already out, heading to work or opening their shops. It’s early, usually I’m still waking up and adjusting to the morning, but since I’m here, I’m up early and getting started with my day before the sun comes up.
The door’s cracked open when I walk up, warm air drifting out and immediately convincing me that eight in the morning is a perfectly acceptable time for dessert.
The second I step inside, Maisie spots me from her table.
