Page 16 of Win a Date with a Baker

“How unfortunate.”

“For me, definitely.”

She laughs, and the sound settles somewhere low in my chest.

I fold my arms again, mostly because I don’t trust my hands near her.

“Now answer the question.”

“What question?”

I give her a look.

She presses her lips together, pretending to think. “Oh. Right. My mysterious baking abilities.”

I gesture toward the prep table.

“You tempered chocolate without checking the instructions. You filled every donut perfectly. And your braid had better tension than some people I’ve hired.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is that a compliment?”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. I can’t seem to help it around her.

“Where’d you learn?” I ask.

Her fingers brush lightly over the flour dusting her apron, and for the first time since we arrived, she looks uncertain.

“I worked in a bakery.”

I straighten. “You did?”

She nods. “All through high school.”

Then she adds, “And college.”

“That explains it.”

A faint smile touches her lips. “I needed the money.”

“Business school?”

She glances up. “How did you know?”

“You mentioned your desk job at dinner.”

“Right.”

She leans back against the prep table. “I worked opening shifts before class, closing shifts after class, and weekends whenever they’d take me.”

“That’s brutal.”

“It was.” Her smile turns softer. “But I loved it.”

I believe her. I can see it in the way she looks around the kitchen.

Not like a customer. Not like someone impressed by the shiny equipment or the racks of finished pastries.

She looks at the place like she understands what it costs.