Page 11 of Win a Date with a Baker

“They’re fluffy without being airy.” I keep going. “The fillings aren’t overly sweet.”

“Mmm.”

“The glaze somehow tastes richer without being heavier.” His grin grows. “And don’t even get me started on the brown butter maple.”

“I won’t.”

“So?” I ask.

“So?”

“The secret.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Nope.”

“You can trust me.”

“I really can’t.”

I gasp dramatically. “I’m wounded.”

“I’ve come by my paranoia the honest way.”

My teasing humor fades. “What do you mean?”

He leans back in his chair. “I’ve had two people apply for jobs in the last year who weren’t actually looking for jobs. They were looking to get my recipes.”

I gasp. “So what did you do?”

“They both disappeared the second I handed them the paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“My NDA.”

I blink. “You have employees sign nondisclosure agreements?”

“And non-competes. I know it’s extreme. But it’s necessary. “Formybakery. It’s e my life’s work.” He smiles sheepishly. “Everyone else thinks I’m crazy.”

“I don’t.” I shake my head. “I think it’s kind of…poetic.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Poetic?”

“People protect the things they love.”

His gaze stays on mine a beat longer than necessary.

“I suppose they do.”

The waiter quietly replaces another course between us.

Neither of us looks at it right away.

Instead, Tyler clears his throat.