Her entire face lights up. “You came back!” Her voice is loud enough to echo off the walls.
“Of course I came back,” I say. “Do you think I would skip the best cookies in town?”
She gives a tiny shrug, almost shy. Like she genuinely didn’t know whether I meant it yesterday. There’s something about this little girl that makes my heart warm in a way I never knew it could.
Then I see him.
Liam is behind the counter, organizing the display case with the same calm focus he had yesterday. There is something steady about him, something warm that he tries to hide but does a terrible job of disguising. His gaze meets mine and I see that small shift in his expression again. “Morning,” he says, his voice low and even.
“Morning,” I answer, trying not to let my eyes linger on him longer than they should.
“You’re early,” he says.
“So are you.”
“I run a bakery.”
“I run a festival.”
He gives me a look like I’m trouble he didn’t plan for but also doesn’t mind having around. The corner of his mouth lifts before he can stop it.
And that right there is why I am back, not for the job, not for the town, and not the festival. But for him. And, yes, for his daughter, but mostly him.
I step closer to the counter and lean on the edge. “I have something important for you.”
He looks suspicious already. “What is it?”
“Today’s cupcake pun.”
He closes his eyes like he is begging the universe for strength. “Charlotte.”
Maisie gasps and claps her hands together. “Yes!”
I clear my throat, enjoying the moment way too much. “Why did the cupcake go to therapy?”
Liam looks like he wants to stop me but knows he cannot. “I don’t want to know.”
“Because it felt crumby.”
Maisie snorts and nearly falls out of her chair from the force of her laugh.
Liam stares at me, completely silent.
Then he breaks.
A small, reluctant smile pulls across his mouth. The minute he smiles, heat curls low in my stomach. God, it’s a beautiful smile.
“That was terrible,” he says.
“But you smiled,” I remind him.
“I regret it.”
“You’re welcome.”
He turns away like he needs a second to recover. I should probably let him have it, but I am too busy watching the way his smile slowly fades while he tries to get himself back under control.
Mark walks by with a tray of bread dough and gives a wave. “Charlotte, welcome back. Do you have a dough pun today?”
