Page 12
Knox found himself alone at the sample table, looking at the remaining half of the lemon bar on his napkin.
He picked it up and ate it, and it was better than acceptable. The lemon hit the same register as the memory he’d been trying to file away for three weeks, bright and sharp, a flavor that made everything else seem dull by comparison.
This was a hunger that had nothing to do with calories and everything to do with wanting something you hadn’t known was missing until it was on your tongue.
He folded his napkin, slipped a card from inside his jacket, wrote three words on it, and placed it beside Lucy’s sample tray where she’d find it after they left.
Marco emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of fresh croissants. He spotted Knox at the table and paused.
“You’re the budget guy.”
“CFO. But yes.”
Marco set the tray down and studied Knox with the same assessment Lucy’s rolling pin had offered earlier, and the same potential for blunt force. “She’s been stress-baking for three weeks. I’ve had to order extra flour twice. Whatever this is, try not to make it worse.”
“I have no intention of making anything worse.”
“That’s what they all say.” Marco picked up the empty tray and headed toward the ovens. Over his shoulder, he added, “The lemon bars are better than acceptable, by the way. But I think you already know that.”
Knox said nothing. He straightened his cuffs, checked his watch, and followed the others toward the door.
Lucy was standing at the register, already back in her rhythm, ringing up a regular. She didn’t look at him as he passed. He didn’t expect her to. But as he reached the threshold, she spoke without turning around.
“Knox.”
He stopped.
“Next Tuesday. Two o’clock. Bring your numbers.”
“I always bring numbers.”
“I know. It’s your most predictable quality.”
He stepped onto the sidewalk. The door swung shut behind him, the bell chiming once, and the May air hit his face, cool and ordinary after the heated air of the bakery. Gabriel was waiting on the curb.
“That went well,” Gabriel said.
“She compared me to fungus.”
“She engaged with you. That’s different.” Gabriel flagged a cab. “What did you write on that card?”
Knox adjusted his glasses. “Nothing relevant.”
“Knox.”
“It was a professional note.”
The cab arrived. Knox got in first. Gabriel climbed in after him and gave the driver the Oath Capital address.
Chapter 4
LUCY
Underpriced. Fix it.
Knox Knightly had left his business card on her sample tray.
Marco had been telling her to raise her prices for a year. Her accountant had circled the line item in red twice. She knew the price was low. That wasn’t the point. The point was that she’d set it on her own terms, and no man in a three-thousand-dollar suit was going to walk into her bakery and rearrange her decisions with a note card.
