Page 61 of Frosted Fakes

Elliott poured two cups, added milk to one, and finally turned around. Her expression was carefully neutral as she crossed the small space and held out a mug.

"Coffee," she said.

Julia took it. Their fingers brushed, and she felt the contact like an electric shock.

Elliott pulled back immediately. "I should get downstairs. Start the morning bake."

"Right. Of course."

"Right."

Neither of them moved.

"Elliott…"

"I'll see you down there."

And then she was gone, disappearing through the door that led to the bakery stairs, leaving Julia alone with her coffee and her confusion and the impression that she might have done something wrong. But the coffee in her hands was the first morning coffee that Elliott had ever made for her.

THE BAKERY SMELLED like fresh bread and pastry cream when Julia finally made it downstairs, which meant Elliott was hard at work. The display cases were already half-full, neat rows of croissants and scones and the delicate fruit tarts that had become their bestsellers.

Julia took her place behind the counter and tried to act like everything was normal.

It wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal.

Every time Elliott emerged from the kitchen, Julia's heart did a complicated gymnastics routine. Every time their eyes met, she felt heat creep up her neck. Every time Elliott handed her a tray of pastries, their hands carefully not touching, Julia wanted to scream.

The bell above the door chimed.

"Good morning!" Tara swept in, already pulling on her apron. "How's…"

She stopped. Looked at Julia. Looked toward the kitchen where Elliott had just disappeared. Looked back at Julia.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Julia's voice came out too high.

"Something happened." Tara's eyes went wide. "Something actually happened between you two."

"Nothing happened."

"You're a terrible liar." Tara was grinning now. "Finally. I've been watching you two dance around each other for ages. It's been exhausting."

"We haven't been dancing around anything. We have an arrangement. A business arrangement."

"Sure." Tara's tone dripped with skepticism. "A business arrangement that involves longing looks and unnecessary touching, and the way you both light up when the other one walks into a room."

"I don't light up."

"You absolutely light up. It's like someone's plugged you into the mains." Tara patted her shoulder. "It's sweet, actually. Real, for once. Instead of all that fake girlfriend rubbish." She paused, a confusing look on her face. "Pretending isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Huh."

The door chimed again before Julia could ask her what she meant.

Jamie walked in carrying a container of something that smelled incredible and wearing his usual easy smile. He took two steps into the shop, looked at Julia, and stopped dead. Tara took the opportunity to escape to the storeroom.

"What?" Julia asked.

"Something's different." Jamie's eyes narrowed. "You look different. Why do you look different?"