“Just in high school?” I tilt my head to the side. “I remember seeing a witches' coven run past my shop yesterday.”
“Okay, okay, I am.” He scratches his jaw.
My harsh words from yesterday flit through my mind, and I read the hurt in his eyes. I want to apologize, but my lips clamp shut instead.
“Geez, don’t fight me so hard on it.” He chuckles and holds up a hand. “It’s okay. I won’t deny it. But I’ll fix everything. I promise I will make it up to you.” His eyes linger intently on mine until I break contact. “Do you have a minute? I was wondering if you could write down all the things I damaged, and I’ll pay to replace them.”
I certainly won’t argue with that. It beats the hassle of trying to go through insurance.
The doorbell chimes.
“You can take a seat out front. I’ll get to you when I’m not busy.” I push around him and greet the young mom and her two kids looking for donuts. The awe on each of the kid’s faces as they press their noses to the glass, their eyes wide as they devour the options is one of my favorite parts about owning a bakery. Sugar makes people happy, it’s a proven fact. I think.
After they leave, each with a sprinkled donut in hand, another customer walks in, then two, then five, then eight. It’s a half hour before Sean approaches the counter, looking over the non-damaged displays.
“What’s good?”
Where’s my rolling pin when I need it?“You do realize I’m the baker, so that question is offensive?”
“Okay,” he purses his lips, and his eyes drop from the menu to meet mine. “What’syourfavorite?”
“I like everything. Kind of the point of having my own bakery.”
He blows out his cheeks. “Then I’ll take one of everything.”
I lift a brow. “I have twenty items in total today, including a chocolate peanut butter mousse cake and a pink lemonade pie. You’re going to eat all that?”
He shrugs. “I like to eat.”
I’m not sure where he’ll put it. I saw his chiseled chest yesterday—and again in my dreams—and that’s not the kind of chest one gets by consuming this much sugar.
I open the small pastry shelf pull out a cinnamon roll, and hand it to him. “Start with this.”
He takes it to the table, and I grab one for myself. He wolves the entire thing down before I even take a bite.
“This is amazing.” He grabs the napkin and dabs at his mouth. “Better than my mom’s. But don’t tell her that.”
Sean might not think before he speaks, but that’s how I know I’m getting nothing but honesty.
My cheeks warm, and I can’t help a small smile from finding my lips. What kind of messed up universe is this? The guy who broke my heart in high school is here, in my bakery, complimenting me and making my heart flutter with his ridiculous compliments.
No.
I wipe the grin off my face.
“I’m going to need a lot more of that in like five minutes,” he says. “But first…” He opens his phone and slides it over so I can see what’s on the screen. “I took a picture of that display case while you were busy, and I think I found the same one.”
I study the picture. He did find the exact one. Impressive. “That’s great but…”
“What?”
“Maybe I should get one with sliding doors so the next time a crazy person jumps over my counter, they aren’t impaled.”
His hazel eyes dance with intriguing delight. “How considerate.”
“How are you by the way?” Many of my thoughts today have revolved around him… I mean his injury. “It’s a good thing you were wearing that cloak thingy. That door could have caused serious internal damage.”
“Internals all accounted for,” he says, but just the reminder of the horror scene from yesterday has the blood draining from my face.
