A few people nearby laughed, and her smile bloomed. But it wasn’t just because of the compliment—it was the way he’d made sure people heard it. Like her work, her talent, she herself was worth celebrating out loud.
She held his gaze, and his expression shifted back into the man she’d spoken to at midnight a few nights ago. The tenderness. Theseeing. It pulled again at a thread buried way too deep in her chest.
And she realized... she wanted this.
Her breath caught.
Him.
He pointed his half-eaten cookie at her. “You laced this with something illegal, didn’t you?”
She hesitated, trying to climb out of the internal realization with some pride intact. “Brown butter and a dash of cardamom.” She gave him a mock bow. “Goes straight to the soul.”
“Indeed it does.” Finn popped the rest of it into his mouth, chewing as he circled the booth to stand near her. “Do you recall the old adage...” He looked up as if thinking, his voice low as he turned away from the crowd. “What is it? The way to a man’s heart...” Slowly, deliberately, he lifted another cookie from the plate, holding it between two fingers like a proposition.
Her heart hiccupped.
Was he joking again?
She didn’t move. Just stared at him, wondering how in the world one man could be so disarmingly charming and steady at the same time.
And then—
“I’m ready to place my vote, Finn.”
A sultry voice snapped the tension. Daphne turned toward the source and nearly groaned.
Jayla March. Draped in designer linen, glowing like she owned the sun, and flanked by two equally glamorous friends.
Finn turned toward her, smile easy, open. “Well, I do hope I can impress you enough for a vote, Miss March.”
The raven-haired beauty breached the distance, her hand sliding onto Finn’s forearm like it was a familiar path. “My daddy’s particularly interested in trying those sliders we keep hearing about.”
With practiced ease, Finn shifted behind his booth, voice lifting to match the crowd’s energy. He laughed. They flirted. And Jayla’s friends, now crowding in, leaned into the performance like it was a Broadway show.
And something twisted in Daphne’s stomach.
Of course he was charming. That was just... who he was. Friendly. Approachable. Dangerously charismatic. Like that witheveryone.
His gaze slid back to her a few times, hesitating, warming, before Jayla pulled him back into conversation by the Designer Trio.
“Cast your final ballots for Wisteria’s Cook-Off, folks!” Mayor Wilson’s voice rang out from the amphitheater stage.
Daphne turned mechanically toward the sound.
Lindsay and Travis stood next to him onstage, both looking like they just stepped out of their own designer magazines.
“We’re closing up votes in five minutes, so if you’re going to get yours in, better hustle over to Daphne’s and Finn’s booths while you can!”
“And while there’s still food left,” Lindsay added with a wink, earning a ripple of laughter.
“Ms. Monroe and Mr. Langston have volunteered to count the votes to see who their wedding caterer will be, so stay tuned for the announcement,” the mayor continued.
“And in the meantime”—Travis gestured toward the stage—“let’s get the dancing started!”
More giggles erupted from Finn’s booth. Jayla leaned in closer. Finn said something that made her throw her head back and laugh like she was out for his heart.
And maybe she was.
