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“All right, munchkin. You know the drill. One treat, and then it's straight home for homework.”
Amber nods solemnly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she weighs her options. I smile at her adorable expression.
As Amber deliberates, Jake leans against the counter, his forearms flexing as he rests his weight on them.
He fixes me with those piercing blue eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Busy day?” he asks, his gaze flickering to the chaos behind me.
I let out a breathless laugh. “It's the usual Friday rush. It's been nonstop since I unlocked the doors this morning. I can barely keep the shelves stocked.”
“Well, you know I'm more than happy to help you eat the leftovers,” he jokes.
I raise an eyebrow, a smile playing on my lips. “Careful, or I may take you up on that.”
He shrugs, his grin widening.
I roll my eyes good-naturedly, my cheeks warming under his attention. “So, what can I get for you today? Let me guess. The usual?”
“You know us so well.” Jake grins. “It might be worth trying something new today. Any suggestions?”
I tap a finger against my chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm, if you're feeling adventurous, I just took a fresh batch of cinnamon apple tarts out of the oven. They're my new favorite this week.”
“I'll take your word for it. One of those and a large coffee, please.”
“What about you, Amber? A cupcake?”
The adorable little girl giggles, nodding enthusiastically. “You always remember, Finley!”
I laugh, the sound filling the bakery as I prepare Jake and Amber's order.
As I turn to make his drink, I catch sight of my reflection in the shop window. I’m wearing my favorite red and white apron.
It has tiny embroidered cherries to match my Doc Marten boots, but I'm suddenly aware of the flour smudged on my cheek and the loose strands of hair escaping my bun.
I can feel Jake’s eyes on me, and I silently curse my disheveled appearance.
Jake asks me about the new recipes I've been experimenting with, and I smile at his genuine interest.
I've been working on a new line of gluten-free options, trying to cater to a wider range of customers.
“They're coming along great,” I tell him, handing Amber a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie along with the cupcake she ordered. “I think I've finally perfected the texture on the gluten-free brownies.”
I’m proud of my achievement. Gluten-free baking is an art form—or a lesson in chemistry.
I hand Jake his coffee, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange.
The touch causes sparks to skitter across my skin, and I quickly pull my hand back, hoping he doesn't notice the effect he has on me.
Jake grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can't wait to try them. You know I'm your biggest fan.”
My cheeks warm at his compliment. “Speaking of things coming along, how's your latest construction project going?”
Jake's expression becomes animated as he describes the intricacies of the custom project he's building. I hang on to every word, fascinated by his passion for his craft.
He’s so easy to talk to. I wish I could spend more time with him and delve deeper into his thoughts and experiences.
