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“Nothing,” Lucy said. “I’m fine.”

“Lucy, I’m here offering to give you a hand, as your business partner, if you’d rather that than as the father of your unborn child. You look exhausted and Jo left a while ago. Just let me help. There’s no need for you to do everything by yourself.”

Lucy considered her options. It didn’t take long because she was dog-tired. She wouldn’t gain anything by sending him away.

“OK,” she said. “Could you sweep up and mop the floors? I’ll get some baking done ready for tomorrow.”

“On it,” said Dylan, giving a salute Lucy couldn’t help smiling at.

She lasted all of about five minutes though before the smell of the butter had her needing to stand outside in the fresh air until her nausea subsided. When she returned, Dylan was in the kitchen. “I finished the floors,” he said. “I guess the baking isn’t going well?”

“Not really,” Lucy admitted. “I’m fine serving the food, but not handling it in uncooked form,” she explained. “Especially butter. I don’t have enough cakes prepared for tomorrow though, especially as Saturday is always the busiest day of the week.”

“I can help with that,” said Dylan, simply. “Pass me an apron.”

“Can you actually bake?” she asked.

“Nope, or at least I’ve never tried,” Dylan replied. “But I’ve got you here to boss me around. What’s the easiest thing I could make?”

“Probably rock cakes,” Lucy said. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yep, I should learn to bake anyway. Now is the perfect opportunity.”

She took an apron down from the hooks on the wall and handed it to him. “Wash your hands! Then pop this on. And then you can make a start rubbing the butter into the flour.”

* * *

“I think we need to hire someone to help with this,” Dylan declared ten minutes later. He was completely covered with flour and getting rather red in the face.

“I can’t afford that,” said Lucy, with a shrug.

“We can’t afford that,” Dylan corrected. “All right, can we order some cakes, pastries and whatever from the bakery, along with the bread? We’d make less profit on them, but it’s just a short-term solution until you’re feeling better.”

“Yes, we could do that,” Lucy conceded. That was actually a really good idea. “It’ll eat into our profits, but needs must, I guess. I’ll give Rachel a call and see what she can do for tomorrow.”

Dylan let out a grateful sigh.

“That doesn’t mean you get out of finishing making those,” Lucy said, firmly. “We’re not wasting ingredients.”

Dylan opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but was silenced with her best glare until he got back to work.

Chapter 8

“Thank you,” Lucy said, opening the coffee shop door to let Dylan out. “I did appreciate your help. There’s still no need for you to be here every day though,” she added.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Dylan, throwing her such a cheeky grin that she couldn’t help smiling in response, though she did her best to hide it. “Get some rest, you really do look exhausted.” Their eyes met and Lucy found herself unexpectedly lost in a sea of deep blue for a moment before she forced herself to break away as he added, “And make sure you take more of that Spatone in the morning.”

“I will, and thank you for getting it for me.”

Dylan left and Carrie gave the coffee shop a last once over. It was almost five, so the bookshop next door would be just closing up. She decided to pop round and check in on Carrie for a quick catch-up.

When she went into the bookshop, Mary was tidying up a shelf in the young adult section. The rest of the shop was empty.

“Hello!” said Mary, looking up as the bell above the door jingled.

“Hi, Mary. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you, lovely. What can I help you with?”