Page 79 of Frosted Fakes

Julia's heart bounced. Elliott Sinclair, grumpy perfectionist, prickly loner, had woken up early to make her breakfast pastries. If that wasn't love, it was at least a very convincing imitation.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm absolutely going to make it weird." Julia set down her coffee and wrapped her arms around Elliott from behind, pressing her face between her shoulder blades. "You made me breakfast. That's disgustingly romantic."

"It's practical. You need to eat. You're useless when you're hungry."

"Still romantic."

Elliott turned in her arms, looking down at her with an expression that was trying very hard to be stern and failing completely. "You're impossible."

"You like it."

"Mmmm."

They stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the morning light turning everything golden. Julia thought she could get used to this. Mornings in a warm kitchen, coffee and fresh pastries, Elliott's hands resting on her hips like they belonged there.

"We should get downstairs," Elliott said finally. "The shop won't open itself."

"Five more minutes."

"Three."

"Four."

"You're negotiating cuddle time now?"

"I'm a businesswoman. It's what I do."

Elliott kissed her forehead. "Three and a half. Final offer."

Julia smiled against her shoulder. "Deal."

THE BAKERY FELT different that morning.

Julia couldn't quite put her finger on it at first. The same display cases, the same smell of fresh bread, the same worn wooden counter. But something had shifted, some invisible tension she hadn't even noticed was there until it was gone.

"You're in a good mood," Tara observed, appearing from the back with a tray of scones. Then she stopped, really looked at Julia, and her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, that's why."

"What's why?"

"You've got that look. The look."

"I don't have a look."

"You absolutely have a look. You look like someone who…" Tara glanced toward the kitchen, where Elliott was visible through the doorway, and lowered her voice. "Someone who had a very good night."

Julia felt her face heat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmmhmm." Tara was grinning now. "Good for you, honestly. I’m happy for you. And even happier that I didn’t walk in on anything this time."

Before Julia could formulate a response, the bell above the door chimed and Jamie walked in.

"Morning, lovebirds," he said cheerfully. "Can I borrow…" He stopped. Looked at Julia. Looked at the kitchen door. Looked back at Julia. "Finally."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"