I think that was his way of letting me know she was officially off-limits. Good for him for finally making a damn move.
I found a parking space right out front of the bakery and took a second to stretch my back once I got out of the truck before going inside.
The bell over the door jingled when I opened it. The smell hit me first—sugar, coffee, and warm bread. Lainey stood behind the counter in a pinkBeaumont Bakeryapron, while Jade leaned against it, talking animatedly with her hands. She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed me and lit up with a smile.
“Alan!”
“Hello, ladies,” I said. “I’m in need of coffee.”
Lainey laughed. “You came to the right place. I just made a fresh pot.” She reached for a mug, then paused and looked back at me. “Or were you thinking an espresso or cappuccino?”
“No, just coffee, thanks.”
As she poured a cup for me, I looked around and said, “I thought for sure Adam would be here.”
She set the mug in front of me on the counter, along with sugar and creamer.
“He’s at work.”
I looked over at Jade while I doctored my drink. “Did Brian go back yet?”
She shook her head with a sad smile. “He’s riding the desk until he’s medically cleared.”
“Ooh,” I replied with a wince. “I’ll bet he hates that.”
She sighed as she nodded. “You have no idea.”
Grabbing my coffee, I strode toward a nearby table at the same time someone new walked out from the back.
She carried a plate of cinnamon rolls, eyes down, brow creased with concentration.
Her chestnut-brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail with a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. A navy-blue cardigan hung open over a white tee, mostly covered by a faded pinkBeaumont Bakeryapron smudged with flour and something that looked like frosting. Flour marked her cheek like she’d swiped at it without noticing.
She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and froze like a deer in headlights.
My brain short-circuited.
She blinked, startled, and the plate tipped. Cinnamon rolls, that appeared to be freshly frosted, tumbled off the plate, down my shirt, and onto the floor.
Jessica, according to her name tag, looked horrified.
“Oh my god—oh no—” she stammered, depositing the now-empty plate on a table and grabbing a handful of napkins that she used to swipe at my shirt. “I’m so sorry!”
Her cheeks flushed pink.
I just stared, completely blank. Which, for me, was saying something.
She was pretty in that quiet, doesn’t-know-it way that sneaks up on you.
Her hand trembled when she grabbed more napkins and reiterated, “I’m so sorry.” She glanced at Lainey, and it seemed like she was talking to her when she continued, “I promise I’m not usually this clumsy.”
Finally, my brain started working, and I took the napkins from her to wipe my shirt myself while assuring her, “That’s what washing machines are for.”
“I can—I can wash it for you,” she blurted out.
The offer, like her, was adorable. I wanted to pull her into a warm hug. Instead, I went with, “It’s fine. Seriously.”
She bit her bottom lip and nervously nodded her head before whispering, “Thank you for being so nice.”
