“What? No, I—” Finn shot Sherri a panicked look. “I wouldn’t say celebrity,” he protested.
Sherri raised an eyebrow and reached under the counter for her phone. She swiped at her screen and a second later she turned it around so I could see an Instagram page. It belonged to FinntastiCakes—and there was Finn, wearing a chef’s jacket and a particularly roguish smile.
The page showed an endless parade of wedding cakes—except these weren’t just cakes. They wereart.Three-, four-, and five-tiered masterpieces, covered in hand-sculpted flowers, the surface of one cake dotted with what looked like tiny diamonds and another draped in piped latticework, and all of them so perfect they took my breath away. Sherri stabbed a finger at one picture so it filled the screen, and I vaguely recognized the name of the actress who was tagged.
“See? Finn has made cakes for people who areKardashian-adjacent!”
Finn’s cheeks darkened and his gaze flicked between the screen and Sherri. “How did you even find that?”
She smiled sweetly. “You’re new in town, hon. Of course I’m going to stalk your socials.”
Finn gave a resigned sigh. “Is this where I find out there are no secrets in Sugar Hollow?”
“’Fraid so, hon.” Sherri snagged another cookie, then turned her attention back to me. “It looks like you might have to fight for your crown this year, King Cameron!”
Finn gave a teasing smile at that. “I’ll look forward to seeing what you can do, then. May the best man win!”
Someone with more social skills than a potato would have smiled and laughed it off, or maybe said they were looking forward to the challenge, or told him to take his best shot, or a hundred other fun and flirty things. But me? If there had been a Sugar Hollow Socially Inept Award, I would have won it forevery one of my twenty-seven years. So instead of playing it cool, I panicked and blurted out, “He’s a professional! He can’t enter!”
Wow. Overreacting much, Cam?
They both stared at me, and Sherri’s brow creased. “You know, I don’t think that’s right,” she said slowly. “Ava Harris always enters, and she owns the bakery in town!”
“Yes, but Ava Harris isn’t asgoodas he is!”
Holy shit, my mouth was just running its own little party today, wasn’t it? And to make matters worse, Finn’s face was doing something complicated that made me suspect he was barely holding back his laughter.
And why wouldn’t he be laughing at my expense? Here he was, barely in town for five minutes and already churning out these exquisite cookies and making friends, and what was I doing? Clutching my pearls and panicking at the first sign of competition. Melting down over shortbread penguins.
I needed to get a grip.
“Kidding!” I said. “Everyone’s welcome to enter! The more the merrier!” I let out a shaky laugh and plastered on a grin that was as false as Dolly Parton’s eyelashes.
“Well, that’s good then,” Sherri said brightly. She reached out and took another cookie. “Are you taking part in the bake sale, Finn?” she asked. “Because these would sell out in a hot minute.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she took a bite and she made that noise again, the one that made me feel like I was intruding on her special alone time.
“Oh, I definitely am,” Finn said. “I’m planning to bake all the favorites.”
“Well, there’s no need to make gingerbread,” I found myself saying. “I’ve got that covered.”
Wow. Since I couldn’t seem to shut my mouth, maybe I should try for this year’s award for Territorial Asshole as well.
Finn didn’t seem offended, though. Instead he raised his eyebrows and gave me a teasing smile. “Noted.” Then he held the plate out to me in silent offering. I took another cookie, one with red and white swirls and a marbled finish this time, and bit into the crisp, buttery sweetness. It was just as good as the last one—possibly even better.
Sherri reached out and eased the cookies out of Finn’s grasp, like she thought I was planning to go back for a third helping. “I’ll put these in the break room for everyone to share.”
She disappeared through the door that led to the offices, leaving me standing alone with Finn. Now would have been a good time to leave, but then I’d look even more rude than I already did, and the last thing I wanted was Sherri telling half the town I had beef with the new guy. So instead I stood there awkwardly and I waited forhimto go.
But he made no move to leave, and after what seemed like an eternity but was probably thirty seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. “So, you’re a baker?”
“Was. I work at the sawmill now.” The corners of his mouth tightened and his shoulders hiked up around his ears at the question. I wondered briefly what had happened to cause that reaction, but even my socially inept ass could tell he didn’t want to discuss it.
So I said, “Working with lumber sounds interesting, but I don’t have the muscle for it.” I gestured down at my short, skinny self.
He stared at me for a second then looked me up and down, and some of the tension left his frame. “Well, you’re a specialist lumberjack, that’s all.”
“I—what?” I had no clue what he meant, but it felt like he was poking fun at me, and I didn’t like it. “I’m the furthest thing from a lumberjack. I’m more of a human toothpick.”
Finn shrugged. “Well, books are made of paper, right? And paper is just a tree with a fancy haircut. So, lumberjack. I bet you’d look great in flannel.” His eyes danced, and I wasn’t sure, but it felt like he might actually be flirting with me.
