Page 3 of Win a Date with a Baker

“I am not.”

She laughs under her breath.

My gaze wanders toward the open kitchen at the back of the bakery. I can see stainless steel prep tables, enormous mixers, racks filled with cooling bread, and employees hustling around in black aprons embroidered with the bakery logo.

But not him.

I stand on my tiptoes a little. Nothing.

“Looking for someone?” Kathryn asks innocently.

“No,” I say a little too quickly. “I just wondered if there were any daily specials.”

“Liar.” She leans closer. “You’re looking for the man you’ve watched knead dough approximately eight hundred times?”

“I have not watched them eight hundred times.”

“Seven hundred?”

I ignore her.

“I just thought...” I glance toward the kitchen again. “...if he owns the place, he’d probably be here.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So?”

“So maybe Donut Daddy sleeps.”

A young woman behind the counter smiles at us. “First time in?”

“Is it that obvious?” I ask.

“You’ve both been standing in front of the display case for almost two minutes.”

I laugh. “There are too many choices.”

“There is no such thing.” She gestures proudly toward the rows of donuts. “We have brown butter maple pecan, raspberry cheesecake, pistachio honey, cookies and cream brioche, crème brûlée, lemon lavender?—”

“Oh my gosh,” Kathryn groans dramatically. “I suddenly understand your obsession.”

“I told you.” I pull out my phone. “I have to send this to Mom.”

“And definitely not your Instagram story?” Kathryn asks.

“Why not both?”

The lighting is too pretty not to photograph.

The rows of glossy pastries catch the pendant lights perfectly, and the little gold name cards beneath each flavor are almost too cute to exist.

I step back, framing the display in my camera. I’ll just take one quick picture.

Maybe two.

“You people ever actually taste your food?” I nearly jump at the deep voice behind me.

I lower my phone and turn.