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My stomach pleaded for me to give in, so I scanned the display before making my choice. “Coffee with cream and a slice of almond coffee cake, please.”
She smiled. “Ah, that’s a good choice. It’s one of Huck’s specialties.”
I handed over my payment. “Is he around, by chance?”
She paused only for a moment before her smile widened. “He’s in the back, but I’ll send him out when your order’s up.” She handed back my card.
I tucked my card into my purse and moved left to wait for my coffee and pastry. An elderly woman in front of me eyed me skeptically as she clutched her purse against her chest. I offered a small smile, but she lifted her nose and turned away.
Ooo . . . kay . . .
My eyes swept toward the back of the bakery. The two baristas hustled out orders, and then a bear of a man filled the doorway to the back. He nearly had to duck his head to push through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the front of the bakery. Focused on his task, he carried a tray of freshly prepared pastries toward the glass display case near the register.
“Finally,” a voice whispered behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see two women about my age tracking the man’s every movement, smiling into their steaming cups of coffee.
“Is that him?” I asked.
“Yep.” The pretty blonde’s smile widened. “That”—she pointed discreetly—“is Huck Benton.”
I let my eyes track her finger, beelining directly toward the man. He was huge, out of place in such an airy, brightly lit shop. His presence commanded attention, yet somehow it worked seamlessly with the rustic charm of the bakery.
Slack jawed, I watched as the woman working the register leaned over to say something to him. His eyes sliced toward me, and I immediately looked away, feigning boredom. Warmth spread from my cheeks to my neck. When I risked a glance toward the man again, he was gathering up a small plate and coffee on a saucer. A determined line cut between his dark brows.
He’s headed straight for me.
I righted my shoulders, and instead of coming up with a professional greeting, my mind blanked.
With quick strides, the man cut through the waiting crowd. Only steps away, he inadvertently bumped his bulky shoulders into the old woman standing in front of me. Coffee sloshed from the cup, spilling onto the saucer as the coffee cake bobbled on the plate.
“Well, I’ll say!” The old woman rubbed her shoulder.
“Mrs. Halpert. I am so sorry.” The man turned to set down the coffee and pastry on a nearby table before turning to the woman and gripping her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She pushed away his hands, dusting herself off. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t treat a Sullivan this way.”
I watched the giant’s shoulders sag as he sighed. “I assure you, Mrs. Halpert, it was an accident. My apologies. I’ll tell Sylvie your coffee is on me for the rest of the week.”
A slow grin broke Mrs. Halpert’s hardened features, and she patted his forearm. “That’ll do.”
When she lifted her nose in dismissal, he turned his attention back to me. Crystal blue eyes under dark brows pinned me in place as he lifted his massive hand.
“Huck Benton.”
I slipped my hand into his, letting it swallow mine with its warmth. Static crawled up my arm at the contact. My eyes moved from our hands to his veined forearms, across his broad chest and up to his face. My mouth popped open to form some sort of greeting, but nothing came out. Silence stretched between us as I stared.
TWO
HUCK
I don’t know how long I stared at the tiny brunette stunner. Or how long she gaped back. It could have been a lifetime for all I cared. Her dainty hand slid into mine, and something just ... happened. An instant attraction, but with hints of something more simmering beneath the surface. Owning a bakery in a tourist town meant lots of travelers and faces you never saw again.
She was different.
This was different.
When she stared up at me, I gently cleared my throat.
“Oh! Um, yes. Hi.” She pulled her hand from mine to flick a strand of deep brown hair from her face. “I’m Casselyn Hill, reporter from the Chicago Daily. Mayor Crestwood arranged for us to meet?”
