Page 39 of Win a Date with a Baker

She finally abandons the ring light and walks over to the prep table. Before I can stop her, she tears off a piece of still-warm maple brioche and pops it into her mouth.

She chews thoughtfully.

Then shakes her head.

“See?”

“I don’t see.”

“Technically, it’s perfect.”

“I know.”

“But...”

She points the piece of pastry at me.

“...it doesn’t have your spark.”

“My spark.”

“You’ve lost your sparkle.”

I blink.

“I’m a thirty-three-year-old baker.”

“And?”

“I shouldn’t have sparkle.”

“You absolutely should.”

She folds her arms.

“Especially in your donuts.”

I sigh.

“You’ve officially lost it.”

“No.”

Her smile softens.

“I think you have.”

The kitchen grows quiet around us.

The mixers are off for the first time all morning.

A tray of cooling donuts sits untouched between us.

Rachel studies me for a long moment.

“You’ve checked your phone fourteen times.”

“I have not.”