Page 37
Slice, slice, slice. “Pretty convenient living right above your work, huh?”
“Yeah. Especially when you don’t have a car.”
Jess smirked. “See you in the morning, Kev.”
“Kev,” he hummed. She felt him trace his thumb back and forth on her spine. “I like that. Call me that forever.”
She bristled at his touch and shoved off his hand. “Okay bye, get out.”
Without a word, he shuffled out of the kitchen, the door swinging gently from his exit. She kept slicing away, waiting to hear his footsteps in the apartment above them before she felt safe enough to drop her knife and place her face in her hands.
How in the world am I going to do this? What was I thinking?
Three hard knocks sounded from the kitchen’s back door. Jess lifted her face from her palms, brow furrowed, wondering who in the world would be dropping in this late at night.
Before she could bolt or try alerting Kevin, a deep rumble came from the other side of the door.
“There’s only one person in town who answers to three knocks,” the gruff voice said.
Bewildered, Jess unlocked the back door and opened it. Still in his apron, clutching a knife bag under his arm, Grampy stood on the other side.
He stepped into the kitchen. “What do you need me to do?”
Jess gawked as Grampy washed his hands, too shocked to sputter out a sentence.
He waved a hand at her failed attempts to form a sentence. “Work now, explain later. Give me a task.”
Words eluded her as she directed him to the recipes for the sourdough loaves and the fed starter. He snatched the bowls above him and got to work, placing one on a kitchen scale and making the measurements.
Still speechless, she returned to the fixings for tomorrow’s special, pulling the cakes out of the oven to cool. She then moved on to the scones and prepped the dough, then handed it off to Grampy to shape, cut, and place each pre-baked pastry on a sheet pan.
As she wrapped the baking sheets with plastic to go in the fridge, Grampy stretched and folded the loaves for the last time for their overnight rise. He slid each bowl to Jess so she could seal them tight.
They finished in less than an hour. She snuck glances at Grampy as he helped her spray the countertops and clean up the space and wondered if she was imagining things. If he hadn’t showed up, all of that work would have taken her at least a couple more hours.
Jess opened her mouth to say something to him, but Grampy cut her off. “Let me see the place.”
She snapped her mouth shut and nodded, holding the swinging door open as he stepped through. She flicked on a light as he strolled the bakery portion of Port Wheels, whistling low as he walked up to the espresso machine. She fiddled with the strings of her denim apron as the old man scanned the menu, his gray mustache twitching as he smirked at the different coffee options. Those matching gray eyes twinkled as he scanned the rest of her bakery—the baskets and the polished wood counters and the gleaming glass display case.
“Want to explain to me why you’re here?” Jess whispered.
“Make extra baked goods and freeze them when you have any kind of lull,” Grampy started. “This will help during the really busy summer days when you don’t have a spare minute to make new batches. ‘Sold out’ doesn’t mean you have to actually be sold out. You can save some stock for the following morning.”
She snorted. “You say this like I’ll actually have a steady stream of customers.”
“You don’t think you will?”
She crossed her arms. “Did you hear about that community group post? I really don’t think we’re going to last long if that’s actually how Haverport feels about me.”
To her shock, Grampy rolled his eyes. “Ignore it.”
“But seriously, why are you here? According to this insane town, you should consider me public enemy number one.”
“I remember how I felt the night before I opened my place. Way in over my head. I didn’t want you to feel the same.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “You will never be my enemy, Jess. And there’s only one person in town who is power-hungry enough to plant that kind of story, and everyone who truly knows what’s going on in the Port knows.”
She sucked in a breath. “Mr. Sullivan.”
Grampy nodded, waving his hand around the shop. “He’s been after this building for years. Port Wheels closing would have been convenient for him to swoop in and make a sweet offer to Kimmy so she would sell.”
