“Why not?”
“Because that seems self-indulgent.”
“But I’d be the one naming it. Not you.”
I adamantly shake my head.
“Winnie, let me indulge you.”
“You can’t.”
“Too late. Already decided.” He grins. “The Win!”
Despite my hesitation, I can’t help but feel a little sparkly.
He steps closer, and the huge kitchen suddenly feels very small. “I want you to be part of this. Part of … everything.”
The space between us shrinks to nothing as he reaches for me, and suddenly I’m wrapped in his arms—powerful, warm strength that makes me think everything will be okay.
My eyes drop closed as he leans in, planting his lips on mine. Our breathing falls into synchronicity, rising and falling together like we’ve done this a thousand times before, with the promise to double the recipe.
His nose tickles my cheek as he nuzzles me into position to get a better angle. The kiss deepens. Along with our surroundings, my thoughts fade.
His pulse races under his skin, a steady beat as we press together.
My breath falters when he traces a finger along my jawline, down the side of my neck, so gentle it makes my toes tingle.
When we part, I’m in a complete daze, lost in the intensity of his gaze. My heart tugs in my chest—not with fear, but with hope. With wanting. With the terrifying, exhilarating feeling that this is it. My future is with this man.
At the startof the work week, Patton appears in my office doorway holding a thick folder.
“Good morning.” I gesture to the folder. “Let me guess. Grand opening permit?”
“Among other things.” He sets it on my desk and ourfingers brush. Deliberate. Flammable. Sound the alarm! “It looks like I need your official stamp of approval.”
We’re professional. Mostly. But the air between us snaps and pops with unspoken things, loaded glances, the memory of flour-dusted kisses.
I flip through the paperwork, checking that everything is in order. It is, of course. Patton is nothing if not thorough. But then I reach a document I haven’t seen before. It’s a copy of Captain Kendrick’s will, including a clause about the firehouse property.
I read it once. Twice. Three times.
“‘The firehouse property transfers to Patton Cross. Upon opening a business that serves the community,providedsaid business operates successfully for six months, full and permanent ownership shall be complete. If the business fails or closes, property reverts to the town for public use.’” My head snaps up. “Were you going to mention this?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I thought you knew.”
“How would I know? This wasn’t in the original permit application … or maybe it was and I didn’t notice.” I’m on my feet now, pacing as yet another thing I care about slips out of my control. “Patton, if Crush Cakes fails, you lose everything. The building, the legacy, all of it.”
“I know.”
I whip my head in his direction. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want it to be your problem.”
“That’s not how partnerships work!”
He closes my office door, sealing us inside the glass walls.
He steps closer. “Is this a partnership?”
