Page 34 of Win a Date with a Baker

A knot forms immediately in my stomach. “What? What is it?”

“Your sister has been busy.” Elizabeth turns the phone toward me.

There we are. One picture of us laughing over the mixing bowl.

Another of me tasting the filling while she watches with that impossibly proud smile.

A third of us shoulder to shoulder at the workbench, neither of us looking at the camera.

The caption reads:

Turns out the bachelor auction wasn’t just good for charity... #DonutDaddy #WorthEveryBid #BakeryDate

I let out a long, theatrical groan.

“Well,” I grumble, rubbing a hand over my face, “it looks like our relationship just became Instagram official.”

Elizabeth pulls me in for a hug and gives a short laugh. “At least…”

“At least what?” I nuzzle her neck.

“At least she didn’t stick around to see the rest of our lesson.”

SEVEN

ELIZABETH

If someone had told me a week ago that I’d willingly wake up at four-thirty in the morning to help make donuts, I would’ve laughed in their face.

Now? My alarm goes off before the sun. And I roll out of bed with no complaint. Sometimes, if Tyler is beside me, I wake up even earlier for another mind-numbingly satisfying wakeup kiss.

The bakery has become my favorite place in the world.

Not because of the pastries. Okay... Maybe partly because of the pastries. But mostly because of the people.

His employees tease me mercilessly whenever I pipe filling too slowly.

Rachel has declared herself our “official relationship documentarian,” which means she takes approximately eight hundred candid photos a day.

I used to think I’d hate having my life posted online. But now, it’s surprisingly sweet.

Especially because everyone seems ridiculously invested in us.

The comments still make me laugh.

“Donut Daddy finally met his match.”

“Protect Donut Mother at all costs.”

“Our bakery parents.”

I even have my own nickname: Donut Mother.

Tyler pretends to hate it.

Secretly... I think he hates that he doesn’t completely hate it anymore.

That evening, I push through the bakery door carrying takeout.