Page 19 of Win a Date with a Baker

Her brow furrows. “Really?”

“Really.”

I look down at the flour on my shirt.

“I signed the lease and spent the next three nights convinced I’d ruined my life.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing.”

She waits.

“I was still terrified.”

“Then how did you do it?”

I lift one shoulder. “I decided I was more afraid of spending the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened.”

Her expression softens. “That’s brave.”

“It didn’t feel brave.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Like throwing up.”

She bursts out laughing.

I grin. “I’m serious.”

“I believe you.”

“I think people make courage sound exciting.” I take a step toward her. “Most of the time, it feels awful.”

Her eyes stay on mine.

“But you do it anyway,” she says.

“Yeah.” I’m close now. Close enough to see the faint dusting of flour near her jaw.

Close enough to smell vanilla on her skin.

“You do it anyway.”

Her voice drops. “I still think you’re brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“I think you don’t give yourself enough.”

She reaches up. Her fingers brush my cheek. A light sweep of her thumb that wipes away a streak of flour I didn’t know was there.

Every thought in my head disappears. Except one.

Kiss her.

I should ask. I should say something. I should make sure she wants this.