"She's a handful," I say, but my voice comes out softer than I intended.
"The best things usually are."
The way she says it, easy, genuine, like she means it, does something to the careful walls I've built around my life.
Evan clears his throat loudly. "Dylan, Mrs. Brown is here for her anniversary cake consult."
I tear my eyes away from Piper. "Right. Yeah."
I handle Mrs. Brown's order on autopilot, nodding in the right places, making notes I'll probably have to reread later because my brain keeps drifting back to the woman with the camera bag who's now talking to Maddie about favorite colors.
When I return, Piper is examining the festival cake sketch pinned to my workspace corkboard.
"This is beautiful," she says quietly, tracing the phoenix design with her eyes. "Resilience and renewal. That's the theme?"
"Something like that," I say. "The town's been through a lot with the wildfires. I wanted to acknowledge it without making it… heavy."
She nods slowly, and there's something in her expression, understanding, maybe, that makes me think she knows what it's like to carry weight you don't talk about.
"It's going to be incredible," she says. "And it's going to look amazing on camera."
"I do it for the cake," I tell her. "Not the camera."
"I know," she replies, meeting my eyes. "But it's nice when both things benefit."
The moment stretches between us, warm and charged and far more loaded than it should be. Then Maddie crashes into my legs, breaking the spell.
"Daddy! Evan says we're going to the Corner Diner for lunch! Can the cupcake fairy come with us?"
I look at Evan, who grins innocently. "What? It's Wednesday. We always go to the diner on Wednesday; it would be rude not to invite her."
Piper glances between us. "The Corner Diner?"
"Best patty melts in Montana," Evan says. "You should join us; you can get a feel for the town and meet some locals. It will be good for your content strategy."
He's not wrong; he's also absolutely setting me up, and he knows it.
I look at Piper, who's watching me with open curiosity and a small smile that suggests she knows exactly what's happening here.
"You don't have to," I say carefully.
"I'd like to," she replies. "If that's okay with you."
Maddie cheers and grabs Piper's hand like it's already decided.
And just like that, my carefully controlled Wednesday spirals into something I didn't plan for. Something that smells like citrus and feels like sunlight, and something that terrifies me more than I want to admit.
"All right," I hear myself say. "Diner at noon."
Piper's smile could light the whole bakery. I return to my rosettes and try to ignore the way my hands aren't quite as steady as they were ten minutes ago.
The Corner Dinersits on Main Street as if it's been there since Valentine, Montana, was founded, probably because it has.
The building is a classic American-style diner, with chrome accents, red vinyl booths, and a neon sign in the window that flickers between OPEN and OPN depending on its mood. Through the glass, I can see the checkered floors and longcounter with spinning stools that appear to have supported a thousand coffee-fueled conversations.
I hold the door open for Maddie, then Piper. My hand hovers near the small of her back without quite touching, and I feel the almost-contact like heat through my shirt.
"Fair warning," Evan says as he follows us inside, "everyone in here is going to know your business by the time we leave."
