My goal was to get everything done with as few disruptions to the bakery as possible. And when it was all said and done, I wanted customers to feel like they’d taken a step back in time.
“All right, so I was thinking of incorporating a slightly more rustic design into the bakery,” I began, pointing to one of my sketches. “With reclaimed wood for the display cases and seating area, it’ll feel like stepping back in time. I don’t think you want anything too modern because that will look out of place with the original woodwork of the building.”
Shiloh leaned in closer, his eyes scanning the drawings with an intensity that made my heart race. “I like it,” he murmured, chewing on his bottom lip as he considered the designs. “It’s a nice nod to the history of the town. I’m sure we can even find some old pictures to hang on the walls.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, relieved that he understood my vision. “And I’ve found some local suppliers who can provide the materials we need at a reasonable cost. We’ll also get as much as we can from ReStore to save a bit.”
“Teddy, this is incredible,” Shiloh said, looking up at me with a smile that could rival the sun. “You’ve really put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. “Your bakery means a lot to Harmony Grove, and I want to make sure the renovation does it justice.”
As I spoke, I couldn’t help but notice how Shiloh’s eyes seemed to soften, his appreciation evident in the way he nodded along to my words. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for the usually guarded baker, and it made me feel strangely protective of him.
Just then, a buzzer sounded from the kitchen, jolting us from our reverie. “Crap, that’s the oven. I completely lost track of time and I told Lacey I’d pull them out so she could pick up her little boy.” Shiloh jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I pushed back from the table and followed him. “It’s not a problem at all.”
“Thanks for being flexible,” he said breathlessly as he reached the oven. He quickly grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out a tray of golden-brown pastries, their scent wafting through the air and making my stomach grumble.
“Those smell amazing,” I commented, watching as Shiloh expertly transferred them onto a cooling rack.
“Fresh croissants. They’re kind of my specialty,” he replied, his cheeks flushing with pride. “Here, take one.” He handed me a still-warm pastry, and I couldn’t resist taking a bite right then and there.
“Wow, that’s incredible,” I managed to say through a mouthful of flaky, buttery goodness. These were unlike anything I’d tasted before. Croissants always seemed too fussy and over-hyped. “You really are a genius.”
“Nah, I just knew enough to listen when my grandma taught me to make them,” Shiloh said, his smile lighting up the kitchen. “Now, where were we?”
“Right, the renovation,” I murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed by my display of gluttony with a hint of lust. If the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, it wouldn’t take much for Shiloh to earn my undying love and devotion. “I have some more ideas about storage solutions and maximizing space—”
“Perfect,” Shiloh interrupted, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get back to it, shall we?”
Settling back at the table, I spread out my sketches while Shiloh leaned in closer, scanning each detail. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself growing more animated as I explained my ideas for custom-built shelves and display cases.
“Like I said earlier, I thought we could use reclaimed wood to create a rustic, homey feel while still keeping it functional,” I said, pointing to a sketch of a large display case with glass doors. “And over here, I’ve designed an adjustable shelving system that would make the most of your high ceilings. The higher shelves couldn’t be anything perishable, of course, but they’d work for merchandise backstock if you started carrying it or for displaying things like antique kitchen accessories.”
“Teddy, this is fantastic,” Shiloh replied, his grin widening as he looked up from the drawings. “I love how you’ve managed to capture the essence of what I want the bakery to be.”
The buzzer in the kitchen went off again, and Shiloh hopped up. “Sorry, it’s going to be like this until I get everything out of the ovens. Lacey had started baking for tomorrow’s catering orders and then the daycare called. I’ll be right back.”
“We can talk while you work if that’s easier for you,” I suggested. I was having a good time, and it wasn’t only because Shiloh fed both my ego and my stomach. He was an interesting guy, and I was enjoying learning the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited or how the corner of his mouth twisted when he was deep in thought.
As we continued discussing the project, Shiloh’s excitement bubbled over, his gestures becoming larger and more expressive. Unfortunately, one such enthusiastic wave of his arm sent a tray of freshly baked cookies teetering precariously on the edge of the worktable.
“Shiloh, watch out!” I lunged forward to catch the tray before its contents could hit the ground. My reflexes were quick enough to save the majority of the cookies, but the hot metal seared my hand in the process. Wincing, I set the tray back on the counter as pain radiated through my hand.
“Teddy, I’m so sorry!” Shiloh exclaimed, rushing over to me. He gingerly took my injured hand in his own, examining the reddened skin. “Let me get some ice and a bandage for you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. My hand hurt like hell already but I didn’t want him burning anything while he attended to me. Shiloh disappeared for a moment, returning with a small bag of ice wrapped in a towel and a first aid kit.
“Here, hold the ice against your burn while I get a bandage ready,” he instructed, his voice gentle but firm. I did as he said, grateful for the numbing sensation the ice provided.
I watched as Shiloh carefully applied some burn ointment to my hand, his touch feather-light. He then wrapped a bandage around my palm, securing it with a small strip of medical tape.
“Thanks,” I said softly, touched by his care and concern. If my voice cracked, it was only because of the flood of endorphins in my system from the pain, not because of how it felt to have Shiloh blowing gently on my burned flesh.
“Of course,” he replied, looking genuinely remorseful. “I feel terrible about not watching how close that tray was to the edge. It’s the least I could do. But seriously, next time just let the cookies fall on the floor.”
“Not a chance in hell,” I scoffed. “That would be a waste of dessert and I’m sure that’s a crime somewhere.”
