Taking a step toward the exit, I could feel Ezra’s gaze on me. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to seal the promise of our next meeting with something more concrete. My hand lingered on the door handle, the cold metal grounding me for a moment.
“Hey.” I turned back to him. “Maybe you should come to the planning session on Thursday. I’d like the rest of the team to hear your plans.”
“Oh…of course.” Ezra shifted nervously.
I mentally kicked myself. I should have realized by how nervous he’d been in the kitchen that this was a huge ask. But it was a way for me to see him again without any pressure. “If you’d rather not, you can just email me the menu, and I’ll tell them about it. I’m sure everyone’s going to think you’re a genius.”
“No. No, I can… I’ll be there.” He stood a bit straighter, and it took everything in me to not tell him I was proud of his courage. His gaze wandered around the room, looking everywhere but at me. When he spoke again, I was certain the words were for himself rather than me. “Yes. I can do that. It’s not a big deal.”
This time, I couldn’t stop myself from placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll mostly be just me, my brothers, and their partners. There might be a few other people there, but no one scary.”
Ezra scoffed. “No big, bad wolves?”
I pretended to think for a moment. I liked the way his eyes were now on me. The tip of his tongue slipped between his lips as I scratched my beard. “Hmm, not that I can think of. But damn, wouldn’t that be something?”
Shit, I had to get out of there. I felt my heart pounding as I stared into Ezra’s hypnotic eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses that kept sliding down his nose, and I knew that if I didn’t leave, I would be completely lost in his spell. This was craziness. I wasn’t the type to get flustered around anyone, but Ezra had knocked me off-kilter.
The familiar chime of the door rang out as I opened it, the brisk winter air greeting me. Just as I was about to step out, I couldn’t resist the urge to look back. Our eyes met, and in that split second, everything else blurred. The weight of that gaze, charged and full of unspoken words, held me captive.
It wasn’t just a glance—it was a promise, a suggestion of all the possibilities that lay ahead. The intense feeling in that split second was unmistakable, quickening my heart in a way it hadn’t experienced for many years.
Stepping out into the cold, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions within. The promise of something new, something unknown, loomed ahead. And as the door slowly closed behind me, the last strains of the bakery’s warm, welcoming atmosphere followed me, merging seamlessly with the chilly embrace of the winter air.
There was no denying it. Something had shifted today. The walls I’d meticulously built over the years seemed to have developed a crack, and a tiny sliver of hope had found its way in, all thanks to an adorably shy baker.
4
EZRA
The gentle humof conversation surrounded me as I stepped into the main hall at Harmony House, the golden hue of the late afternoon sun painting the room in a soft glow. Everywhere I looked, there was evidence of the upcoming Christmas event. Bags and boxes overflowing with decorations littered the floor. The weight of the trays in my hands seemed to be pulling me down, both physically and mentally.
When Carson told me to do whatever I thought was best, I’d run to Shiloh, asking for his input. Unfortunately, he’d simply smirked and told me to have fun with my first event. And I had, at least once my freak-out over the stress of being the decision-maker abated.
I’d spent the past two days alternating between Shiloh’s grandma’s binder of recipes and the ovens. As much as I loved trying out new recipes, this was a time for tried-and-true. As I worked, I got the bright idea to create a Christmas tale for the senses, which sent me down a rabbit hole of recipe blogs because savory finger foods were necessary to create a balance, but out of my wheelhouse.
Once I got everything into the main hall, it was time to bring my vision to life. It looked good on paper, and I knew every offering tasted good, but what would the planning group think? Was it too much? Not fancy enough? I tried to shake off the doubts but found them stubbornly persistent.
My strategy had been clear in my mind. Get in, lay out the samples, and then discreetly exit. Especially since Carson was there and had the list of foods I was considering. With each dish carefully labeled, he’d certainly be able to help the group decide which dishes made the final cut. And, bonus, I wouldn’t have to make a fool of myself in front of the man who’d contributed to my current state of exhaustion.
Sleep had been elusive the past couple of nights, filled with vivid dreams of him. Dreams that made my cheeks burn in mortification, even in recollection. Being in the same room with him after such dreams felt like trying to walk a tightrope.
The universe, however, had its own plans.
“Hey, Ezra.” Carson’s voice rang out, carrying an unexpected warmth that caused an involuntary shiver to run down my spine. “Stay a bit. Your insights on the food are invaluable. Everything looks incredible, and I can’t wait until the others get here so we can dig in. You deserve to see how much people love your work.”
I halted in my tracks, my heart skipping a beat. It felt like the room had fallen silent, every eye turning toward me. My heart quickened as Carson’s gaze met mine.
His eyes were the color of the black cocoa powder Shiloh kept a small tin of on the top shelf of the pantry, his irises an intricate pattern of the darkest browns with flecks of gold. They held me captive with a gaze that was both alluring and terrifying.
My face began to heat as his dark eyes studied me. I felt exposed, as if every thought and emotion I kept locked away was written in my expression. My throat felt suddenly parched as I tried to muster a response.
“I—I just thought I’d set these up and…” My voice trailed off, sounding feeble and uncertain even to my ears. I motioned toward the door.
Carson’s gaze softened, yet the intensity remained. “We value your work, Ezra. But it’s not just about the food. We value you. I told my brothers about your ideas, and I think they’d like to hear what you have to say too.”
Flustered, I struggled to comprehend the flood of emotions those words evoked. Here was a man whose family was a pillar of the community, showing genuine interest in me. And not just as a baker but as an individual. The realization was both overwhelming and deeply touching. Trying to collect myself, I took a deep breath, my fingers lightly brushing over the smooth surface of the pastries.
Carson’s older brother approached, along with Kevin Mickelson, who’d moved back to Harmony Grove almost a year ago. We’d grown up together, and both of us couldn’t wait to escape the scrutiny and judgment of our uber-conservative families. The way he glanced at Anson when he thought no one was looking, I wondered if the similarities between us ran deeper.
