“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Shiloh,” I said as I stashed my tools in the cabinet designated mine. “Is it a bummer he didn’t come in? Sure, but it was just a planning session.”
“Yeah, for your first big catering event. Do you even realize what something like this could turn into for you?” Shiloh was hard at work stretching the sourdough for tomorrow’s loaves. Like me, he knew what he most enjoyed doing. For him, it was anything with dough, while I preferred sugar. We were a good team. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he added, “I’ve always known there was more I could do with the bakery, like my grandparents did with theirs, but I’m also smart enough to realize it would’ve never happened while I was a one-man show. Now I’m not.”
“I guess you’re right.” I shrugged. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up when we don’t even know for sure it’ll happen.”
“It’ll happen.”
I shrugged into my puffy winter coat before heading into the crisp evening air. The day’s events played in my mind as I made my way home, the promise of tomorrow filling me with hope and curiosity.
3
CARSON
The momentI stepped into Shiloh’s Sweets, the world felt a bit warmer, a little brighter. Though the bakery was buzzing with chatter and the sweet aroma of pastries, it was Ezra who held my attention. He was a picture of focus, hands deftly maneuvering an icing tool over a fresh batch of cookies.
Teddy had been a genius to recommend creating an area where people could watch the decorators from the other side of a plate-glass window when Shiloh had hired him to expand his bakery. It had seemed corny at the time, but today, I was grateful for the view.
And yeah, I realized how weird that probably made me. I wasn’t the type who spent days watching the food channel on cable, but that wasn’t me. There was just…somethingabout watching Ezra work that I could appreciate. He focused on his frosting the way I did when I was working on the old Chevelle I had stored in my dad’s garage.
Our eyes met, and in that split second, a surge of warmth coursed through me. It was as if the entire world had condensed into that one shared gaze. I shook those thoughts out of my head.
Maybe I was coming down with something. I wasn’t the moony type, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been drawn to a man. I’d have five fingers left over.
Before I could even process it, Shiloh motioned me right into the heart of their operation, the kitchen. It was quaint, filled with the hum of ovens and soft music—blessedly not Christmas carols. Pushing my way through the swinging doors felt like being invited into a sacred space where they didn’t allow just anyone.
Ezra looked up, and I saw a slight tremor in his hand. I wanted to say something—anything—to ease the sudden tension. But before words could form, disaster struck. He turned to face me, and a wayward squirt of bright-red icing shot from his bag, splattering right onto my jacket.
His eyes went wide, a flush creeping up his neck. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, clearly mortified.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay. I guess this means I’ve been officially christened by Shiloh’s Sweets.” I offered him a reassuring smile. “Really, don’t worry about it. I should have watched where I was walking.”
I could feel the heat rising from Ezra’s cheeks before I saw it as he frantically tried to wipe off the errant icing from my jacket. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” His eyes, wide and apologetic, were captivating even in his embarrassment. “If the gel coloring doesn’t come out of your jacket, let me know, and I’ll buy you a new one.”
Before his attempt at damage control could escalate into a bigger fiasco, I gently stilled his hand with mine. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Look, now I’m in theme with the festivities, right?” I tried to jest, lifting my jacket slightly to showcase the inadvertent “decoration.” We both laughed, a genuine shared moment that dispelled the awkward tension hanging between us.
As the conversation naturally flowed to the topic of the Christmas event, Ezra’s entire demeanor transformed. His eyes sparkled with an intensity and passion I hadn’t noticed before. He began painting a vivid picture with his hands, illustrating his ideas about the cookie designs and other desserts he could make for the event. The sheer enthusiasm radiating from him was infectious, and I found myself not just listening but genuinely engrossed.
At one point, his fingers stilled, and a shadow of self-doubt crossed his face. “Sorry,” he said, breaking eye contact. “I tend to…ramble. I just get so lost in the ideas sometimes.”
The earnestness in his voice struck a chord. I tried to convey as much sincerity as I could muster. “Honestly, Ezra, you should take the lead on this. Your passion, your ideas, they’re what this event needs. Me? I’m just trying to find my way around Christmas. I’d probably end up serving burned cookies if left to my own devices.”
His astonishment was palpable. “Really? You—you think so? I was just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture I was quickly growing fond of. “…thinking out loud.” The delicate tug of a smile at the corner of his lips told me he wasn’t used to such direct praise.
“I don’t say shit I don’t mean. And you have great ideas.” I wasn’t sure why, but I reached across the stainless table, resting my hand on this forearm. “I’ll be the money guy and get you the information you need, but I’m officially giving you carte blanche to do whatever you want within the budget.”
With the designs and ideas shared and our laughter fading into a comfortable silence, I glanced at the wall clock. The realization of time passing faster than anticipated made me reluctantly draw our meeting to a close.
“I should probably get going. I’ve got a car in the garage that’s probably wondering where I disappeared to,” I started, brushing my fingers along the edge of the table. But deep down, I didn’t want the moment to end. I could feel the pull, a whisper of a connection I hadn’t anticipated when I walked into the bakery.
This undercurrent would pull me down if I wasn’t careful, and I needed to get away before I did or said something stupid.
Ezra looked up, a hint of the same reluctance mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, I understand. It was nice, really nice, talking about the event and all.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I’m looking forward to seeing how everything comes together. And working closely with you.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. There was a warmth in his tone, a genuineness that resonated with me. “Absolutely. I’ll be back soon to tie up the final details. Maybe we can grab a coffee when I’m here next?” It wouldn’t be a date, but it felt like a step in that direction. One I wasn’t sure I was ready to take, yet the words had spilled out naturally.
His eyes widened a fraction at my suggestion, but then a small smile played on his lips, betraying his thoughts. “I’d like that,” he replied, a hint of shyness evident.
I slowly got up, acutely aware of the space between us. The distance felt both too much and too little at the same time. As I pushed through the swinging door into the dining area of the bakery, my ears were filled with the annoying drone of conversations, but everything faded into the background when Ezra followed me.
