“And if you watch real close,” I whisper. “You’ll see it swell.”
Tiny freckles dot the surface of the milk.
“This isn’t about control. It’s about attention.”
A scuffle scrapes across the floor. My eyes snap to the dogs, but they’re curled on the hostess’s lap, tails flicking.
That’s when my cute little neighbour rushes into the kitchen, cheeks pink, hair askew, and clutching a suitcase handle—my suitcase handle.
All heads swivel, but she doesn’t notice because she’s skimming the room on a mission. This moment couldn’t be any more fun.
She finds the suitcase I brought, which she thinks is full of her toys, and relief loosens her shoulders.
And then—me. Shirtless. Mid-instruction. Her eyes lock on me, and it’s different. She isn’t looking at the version I show the world.
No starstruck awe.
No careful politeness.
No mask.
Just raw, human.
Worried, yes. But still unmistakably authentic, and it’s been a long time since someone just looked at me.
“I—” she starts, then stops.
For a moment, no one says anything.
I smile first.
But I’m surprised when it’s not the grin people expect from the Naked Baker persona. It’s my genuine smile.
“You’re right on time,” I say. “Wash your hands and join us.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “I...um...”
“Afterward, grab a bowl.” With the whisk, I gesture to the empty spot beside Jaclyn. “You are here to knead some dough, right?”
A ripple of soft laughter moves through the room, easing the tension.
“Here ya are, doll.” Jaclyn slides a spare apron down the station she’s sharing with Nettie. “We set up an extra spot in case you changed your mind.”
Shay hesitates. She hesitates long and hard, eyes skirting to the suitcase behind me. Until she finally convinces herself to tie the apron around her waist.
I shouldn’t feel the excitement that pulses through me, but I do. It's so sharp it almost hurts.
Faye loops her arm in Shay’s and leads her to the sink.
Her hands tremble slightly as she scrubs them clean.
The same bright socks cover her feet. Her breathing’s heavy—probably from the jog down the hallway.
And for some reason, I notice every single detail.
I don’t want to debate why, so I turn back to my bowl.
This has always been able to distract me. But it takes me a second to recalibrate, unlike Jaclyn, who’s tossing yeast into Shay’s bowl, helping her catch up.
