Page 26 of What Remains of Grace

He smiled, easy and patient. “It’s not about perfection. It’s about potential.”

She arched a brow. “That your business motto?”

“Life motto.” He tilted his head. “What’s yours? ‘Do it right or don’t do it at all.’ Probably.”

The fact that he’d read her that fast made her pulse trip. “You catch on quick.”

“Occupational hazard,” he said. “I build things. Gotta know when something’s solid and when it just looks that way.”

The words landed somewhere between compliment and understanding, soft enough to slip under her guard. She took a sip to cover the way her breath caught.

It was terrible coffee, but she swallowed anyway. “You’re lucky you brought donuts. This coffee might’ve ended our partnership. Those are donuts, right?”

“Powdered. Guess I’ll have to win you over with my craftsmanship instead.”

“Now you sound like a salesman.”

He laughed, low and genuine, the sound rolling through her like a slow-moving current. “Depends what I’m selling.”

The air between them shifted again, too warm for the hour. Jenna felt her pulse stumble and forced a smirk to cover it.

She raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’m starting to think I should’ve let you bring something controversial. At least that was edible.”

He grinned. “You haven’t had these yet.” He held out the bag like an offering. “Five-star cuisine.”

She laughed and took one, brushing sugar from her fingers. “Grace used to hide these in her car for ‘emergencies.’”

“Then I’d say you come from good stock,” he said, glancing toward the building. “This place has good bones. Needs some love, but it’s solid.”

He held the door open for her, and she stepped inside ahead of him. The floor creaked underfoot as they crossed the worn tiles toward the counter.

Jenna gestured toward the ceiling. “That’s a polite way to say it’s falling apart. The roof’s leaking near the back corner—probably soft decking. You’ll want to check the soffit and fascia on the west side, too. They’re starting to separate. And I’m guessing the exterior trim will need replacing once you pull it down.”

Cole looked up from his notes, amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Maybe once or twice,” she said, crossing her arms. “Old habits.”

“That explains the bossy tone.”

“Confident tone,” Jenna corrected.

“Mm.” He nodded, pretending to consider it. “You always this sure of yourself?”

“Only when I’m right,” she said, matching his tone. “So yes, pretty consistently.”

“That explains a lot,” he murmured, a small grin tugging at his mouth.

That smile, warm and knowing, caught her off guard. It wasn’t just teasing; it was understanding. Like he could sense she needed to feel in control of something, anything, and he was willing to let her have it.

Jenna rolled her eyes but felt a flicker of warmth beneath the exchange. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though it should’ve been. He was a big man, taller than anyone she’d been face-to-face with in years, and standing this close to him, she could feel his presence like a change in temperature. Even from a few feet away, the air between them seemed thinner, like they were standing closer than they actually were.

He moved through the bakery, taking notes on his phone, occasionally asking questions about outlets, fixtures, and flooring. She answered easily, staying practical, but every time their eyes met, the air shifted again, steady, quiet, and charged.

When he finished, he looked up from his notes. “I’ll pull together pricing and get you an estimate in a day or two. You want it broken down by section or just a total?”

“Detailed,” she said automatically. “Always detailed.”

He chuckled. “Got it. I usually get paid in muffins, but I’ll make an exception for an actual check this time.”