Mitch smirked. “Would I have gotten a better reception today if I brought a rotisserie chicken along with this extinguisher?”
Faith shoulders dropped from her ears. “Maybe.”
“Noted. Don’t show up without an extra chicken next time.”
The poor guy was trying. Faith had to give him a little credit. “Thank you for the fire extinguisher. I do already have one, just so you know. But I appreciate it. It was sort of thoughtful of you.”
“See?” Mitch nudged his chin toward her in encouragement. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Being nice to me.”
“Oh, it took everything within me,” she said with a well-placed chuckle.
“I don’t doubt that.”
They stared at one another for a beat, eyes locked. It felt more intimate than if he’d reached for her hand, an unspoken connection that lingered longer than felt comfortable. Faith shook her head and diverted her gaze. “I’ve got to frost these and get them over to my friend’s place.”
Mitch glanced down at the display of small cakes. “Is your friend miniature-sized?”
Faith giggled outright at that, unceremoniously following it up with a snort. “No, she’s a full-sized adult. These are just a few sample cake flavors for her upcoming wedding. She’s still deciding, so I told her I’d make a variety to choose from.”
“I don’t know how you don’t consume everything you bake,” he said as he eyed her creations. “I’d be like Violet from Willy Wonka if I worked in a bakery. You’d have to roll me out of here.”
“I tend to only crave the charbroiled items,” Faith replied, not above self-deprecating humor. In the last few minutes, something had shifted, and she couldn’t make sense of the newfound ease to their conversation, but she actually liked it.
“The crunchier, the better,” he added.
“You know me so well,” she rallied, taking hold of a piping bag to swirl a coiling ribbon of white buttercream onto the first cake.
“I’d like to.”
Faith’s eyes shot up, her heart flying into her throat.
“If it’s okay with you,” Mitch continued, “I’m going to leave you to this while I mount the extinguisher at the front of the store. Then I’ll head out.”
She nodded, still unable to locate her voice, or her composure.
“Good to see you, neighbor,” Mitch said with two fingers to his forehead like a salute.
“You too,” she finally echoed when he turned on his heel, a giddy spring in his step carrying him into the other room. Was he whistling? She swore she could hear the warbling trill of song from the front of the bakery as he got to work attaching the fire extinguisher to the wall.
And fifteen minutes later when the sounds of his activity quieted and the bell jingled to signal his departure, she found it challenging to shake off the lingering sense of his presence.
Even if only in her thoughts, Mitch Abernathy was proving incredibly difficult to ignore.
CHAPTER 5
“I’ve been made aware it’s notStop, Drop, and Rollanymore,” Miss Morgenstern said, cuffing Mitch’s arm to lead him to the front of her first-grade classroom. Laughter and squeals filtered in through the open door, the students enjoying some sunshine and much needed stretching during their lunch recess. “That’s what I grew up with, but I might be showing my age with that confession.”
While the elementary school teacher could be old enough to be Mitch’s mom, she wasn’t dating herself with the information. He’d grown up learning the same fire safety motto, one they’d only recently retired to shift their educational focus toward prevention. Still, it wasn’t a completely antiquated concept.
“We focus now on lingo likeTools versus Toys,” he explained to the grade school teacher. “How matches and lighters are tools for adults to use, not toys for kids to play with.” Mitch had been assigned to speak to the class that afternoon, bringing all of his firefighting gear with him. He’d also brought a stack of coloring sheets that reiterated theTools versus Toysconcept in illustrated graphics on one side, leaving the other side blank for families to write down their own escape plans for their individual homes.
“We’re very excited for your presentation, Mitch,” Miss Morgenstern said while Mitch got situated. “As soon as the kiddos get settled in after recess, the floor is yours. Just a few more minutes. Can I get you anything while you wait? Juice box? String cheese?” She smiled, laughing softly. “Sorry, we’re limited to child-friendly offerings when it comes to snacks.”
“I’m good.” Mitch laughed. “I’ll just get things set up here. Don’t worry about me.”
