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Ah, the reporter. Definitely not the arrogant asshole editor the mayor warned me about.
I wiped the moisture from my palm across my flour-dusted apron. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hill.”
I stared down at her long, thick lashes. I could feel the meddlesome eyes of the locals drilling into my back, but I didn’t care that I was staring. I couldn’t look away.
“You can call me Cass.” A shy smile played on her lips, and I wondered if they tasted delicate and sweet, like the vanilla-infused confectioners’ sugar that dusted the tops of my raspberry pistachio thumbprint cookies.
No. Something stronger, like nutmeg and cardamom.
“Cass.” Her name rumbled in my throat, spreading warmth and tingles down my spine.
We stood, our eyes locking us in place. The din of conversation moved around us, breaking me from my stupor. “Wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.”
Her eyes swooped down. “I just wanted to introduce myself. Get a lay of the land before the big day.” She looked around as curious glances moved between us. “But I can see you’re busy. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
She took a tentative step back, and I mirrored it with a step forward. “Please.” She paused. “Take a seat. I owe you a coffee that’s not spilled.” I gestured toward a high-top table with two seats. When she sat, I placed the almond coffee cake in front of her and lifted the saucer in my right hand. “Be right back with a fresh one.”
Turning my back to her, I took a steadying breath. What the hell was that about?
The whole world tilted on its axis. I moved toward the back of the bakery, nodding and offering a tight smile to anyone who looked my way. Sylvie was still working the register, and I could feel her eyes on me as I muscled my way behind the counter.
She smiled at me and wagged her eyebrows.
“Not a word,” I grumbled.
Her light laugh had irritation rolling through me. “Sure thing, boss.”
I focused on making a fresh coffee and not on how Cass’s bulky cardigan couldn’t hide the way the white tank top underneath hugged her curves. She was petite and staggeringly pretty. I had no right to ogle her the way I had, and I felt like a piece of dogshit for doing it.
But goddamn she was pretty.
“Sylvie, I’m gonna take five.”
“Go ahead and make it fifteen, boss.” Sylvie smiled back at me. “We’re covered.”
Rather than argue, I nodded in thanks and made my way back toward Cass. Next to her was a little notebook, and she was scribbling notes as she watched my customers filter in and out of the busy shop. Though she didn’t know the townies from the tourists like I did, a soft smile and gentle shake of her head told me Outtatowner had charmed her as instantly as it had me when I’d moved here fifteen years ago.
Her eyes tracked a man shuffling down the sidewalk just outside the large picture window of the storefront. He wore a bright red T-shirt, basketball shorts, and Moon Boots. Her head tracked him through the window until he lumbered out of view.
I leaned in close, inhaling her floral scent before I spoke. “That’s Bootsy.” Cass startled at the rumble of my voice over her shoulder. I slid the fresh cup of coffee in front of her and shoved my large frame into the seat across from her.
“Bootsy?”
I shrugged and watched her nose scrunch.
“There’s no way that is his real name.”
I lifted a shoulder. “The way it is around here. I think I heard once his name is Jerry, but to be honest, I have no idea. He’s just Bootsy. Lots of folks around here have nicknames like that.”
Cass took a sip of the coffee and scribbled a note across the paper. When she hummed, a throaty husk of a sound, I had to shift in place to keep the heat from pooling between my thighs.
“So what’s yours?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Gotta be a townie for that.” I lifted my palms. “I’m just the baker.”
She tilted her head. “Townie?”
“Someone born and raised in Outtatowner. You’re either a townie or a tourist.”
