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Hannah looked smug. The lady with the baby looked excited. And Miller Hobbs looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“What do you like, Miller?” I asked in a low voice. “Sweet, savory? Pastries, cakes?”
Our eyes met, and I let out a breath.
This man will be someone important to me.
I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did. My whole body relaxed in a way I’d never experienced before. I should have felt nervous, excited, maybe even a little freaked-out, but I didn’t.
I felt ready. And patient.
He caught his bottom lip with his top teeth as his eyes flicked to the display case.
I wanted to feed him. I wanted to present everything in my arsenal to him like a peacock unfurling his feathers.
What do you like? I wanted to repeat it until he answered, until I knew every single way to make him happy.
“I like… honey,” he said, and a gorgeous blush turned the tips of his ears red.
Hannah chuckled, and I felt my cheeks stretch into a Cheshire grin.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” I said. “Wait here.”
I returned to the kitchen and began packing up a bakery box for him, quickly followed by a second box. Samsades, diples, loukoumades, and a gorgeous apple tart with rosemary and honey syrup. I also added some of the molasses clove cookies popular this time of year and a couple of pieces of chocolate cheesecake brownies because I hadn’t met anyone yet who didn’t love them. It was enough food for ten people, but it didn’t feel like enough.
When I came back out to the front of the shop, the woman with the baby was gone, and Hannah was bagging up a large call-in order from Rockley Lodge.
“I put together some things for you to try,” I said, handing the boxes to Miller. “You’ll have to come back and let me know which ones you like.”
“Wow, you… you didn’t have to do this. I…” He glanced up at me, unsure. “How much do I owe you? This is amazing.”
“No, nothing. On the house,” I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was a little over-the-top as random gestures to strangers went.
I was surprised when Hannah took the boxes from him and placed them in the same bag with the big Rockley Lodge order.
“I can’t let you do that,” Miller said, reaching for his wallet.
“I insist. Really. Are you staying up at the lodge?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. Hannah was going to grill me later. The reality of my unexpected behavior began to sink in.
“Yeah, uh… it’s like… a big family reunion kind of thing.” He pinned his lip with his teeth again. “I guess Mikey wanted to make sure we had plenty of sweet treats to go with breakfast.”
He wasn’t the only one suddenly feeling insecure. I’d heard through the small-town grapevine that Mikey and Tiller were hosting at least two dozen beautiful gay men at their lodge this week. I’d thought it was a joke at first, but now…
I cleared my throat. “Well… good. That’s good. You’ll have plenty of people to share your extra pastries with.”
We stood there awkwardly while Hannah moved over to help a customer who’d come in behind Miller. I wasn’t ready to let him go, but I didn’t know what to say to keep him there.
“Can I help you take that to your car?” I offered, nodding at the two giant bags of bakery boxes.
He offered me a small smile that lit up his eyes and made my heart speed up. “That would be great. Are you sure you don’t mind? I’m only down the side street right here. Not far at all.”
We walked out of the warm bakery into the frosty morning.
“You’re going to freeze,” Miller said. “You don’t have a coat.”
“Nah. I’m from Chicago. This is nothing.”
He led me around the corner and down the side street to an SUV I recognized as Mikey and Tiller’s. After we put the bags in the back, I opened the driver’s door for him. “How long are you in town for?”
When he moved past me to get into the car, I caught a whiff of soap and coffee, a unique combination that probably also carried a subtle addition of my bakery now, too. I found that idea soothed some primitive part of me I hadn’t known existed until Miller walked into my bakery.
“A week. We’re spending Christmas together. It’s…” He blew out a breath. “Kind of a big deal. But also… stressful.”
“Too much family?” I offered, knowing full well how that could be. My mother was from a giant Greek family, and my father was from a very large Black family. I had aunties and theias, uncles and theios. Grannies and yayas. More cousins than I could ever visit in my lifetime. They were spread out all over the world now.
