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He nodded. “Really give this some thought, Miss Connolly. I’d hate to see you regret your decision. May I?” he asked, nodding toward the wrapped day-old muffins in the basket on the counter.
“Help yourself,” she said. As if she could ever deny anyone a muffin.
He unwrapped a white and dark chocolate chip espresso muffin, and Jessica watched as he took a bite. “Mmmm, this is good.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
He checked his watch and stood. “I better go. The rest of the shops are opening up and people in small towns get nervous when they see a guy in a suit around.”
Nauseous was more like it.
“I’m taking this with me, though,” he said, picking up his coffee. “It really is the best coffee-and-muffin combo on the coast. You’ll have to tell me your secret,” he said with a wink.
Not a chance. Not Just Desserts may get her bakery one way or the other, but all her recipes went with her. They thought just because they were a big chain, they could win. Well, she had more faith in her community and her talents. And if only that were enough, she’d tell him where to shove his million-dollar offer.
She waited until he was gone before heading into the kitchen. While she still had her business, she had work to do.
…
Could he casually stop by the bakery and claim he was just there for the baked goods, or would Jessica see right through it?
Mitch strolled along Main Street late that morning, after another long sleep. The jetlag was taking a while to wear off, but the night before was the first real peaceful sleep he’d had in months. And for the first time, he hadn’t woken with a heavy sense of dread weighing on his chest. He’d woken with a smile, thinking about the evening before and the gorgeous brunette who’d coyly refused his kiss.
Seeing the bakery’s awning a block away, his palms sweat and he wiped them on his dress pants. Would it appear stalkerish to just show up at her work?
He’d love nothing more than to surprise her and catch her in her element—messy hair and frosting smeared on her face like the first time he’d seen her. Damn, she’d been cute. The sight of her had instantly lifted his sour mood.
But she’d said she had a busy day. Christmas was a chaotic time of year for her. He’d offer to help, but he was probably more of a hindrance in the kitchen than anything else. Sighing, he turned at the corner and headed back the opposite direction. He needed to be chill, play it cool…
Was it too soon to text? Maybe he’d waited too long. Pulling out his phone, he hesitated then tapped out a text.
Mitch:Can I see you tonight?
He stared at it…no. Too eager. Back-to-back dates might be overkill. He didn’t want to come on too strong. And she probably had other things to do. She did live here and she did have a life. He deleted “tonight” and typed “tomorrow night.” He could last thirty-six hours, right? He barely knew her.
Screw it. He deleted “tomorrow night” and rewrote “tonight” and hit send before he could overthink it. Or, overthink it even more. He walked several more blocks, trying to enjoy the various holiday displays in the storefront windows, but his unchiming phone was a major distraction.
Damn, he had to relax and find something else to occupy his time. She was at work…she was most likely busy. She may not have even given him a second thought since the night before.
He crossed the street and made his way to his father’s office three streets over. A bell sounded as he entered the nearly empty reception area. His father’s receptionist looked up from her computer, and her face lit up when she saw him. “Modeling agency’s four doors down,” Mrs. Platner said teasingly.
She always said he’d missed his true calling of becoming a professional model. She claimed he was a ringer for Adam Levine. She even had side-by-side photos of Mitch and the mega superstar in a photo frame on her desk and asked people if they could tell them apart. He was flattered, but the thought of posing shirtless for a jeans ad made him nauseous. Far too self-conscious and shy for that kind of attention.
“Hey, Mrs. P, how are you?” he asked, approaching the desk.
She stood and wrapped him in a big hug. “I’m great, honey. How areyou?” She moved back and eyed him.
“I’m good.” He was. Mostly. He was getting there at least, thanks to his evening with Jess.
Mrs. Platner seemed pleased with her assessment. “You look healthy and rested.”
“I’ve gotten the best night’s sleep over at the old inn,” he said, leaning against the counter.
She nodded. “That place looks amazing. We have a staycation booked for our fiftieth wedding anniversary in February.”
“Fifty years. Wow.” Mrs. Platner and her husband had met when they were teens and had been together ever since. True, real, long lasting commitment like that was so rare these days.
“About time you started thinking about putting a ring on it,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Those good looks won’t last forever.”
