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I wanted him to try the buttered oat too, which was a soft brown bread rolled in roasted oats. It had a slightly sweet, nutty flavour and was great with cheese and soup. Perfect for this weather, especially since a winter storm was meant to roll in over the next few days.

If it did, I doubted he’d be out and about in the early hours but hopefully he’d come in once we opened. Because I really wanted to see him again.

Even if it was only to say hello.

Jackie had teased me about coming out to serve him, because I rarely left the kitchen unless I had to, but when I’d seen the familiar red scarf dashing past the window, I’d had to see if it was him.

And it had been.

I’d tried to tell everyone it didn’t mean anything, but none of them believed me. Mostly because I hadn’t told any of them about seeing Jace through the bakery window and the way he’d bought a piece of paper to write to me. I didn’t know if they’d think it was cute or creepy, so I’d decided to keep it to myself. But now they all thought I’d seen a cute guy rushing past the window and been struck with the desperate urge to say hi, like I’d been struck with Cupid’s arrow.

It was something I’d never live down, but I wasn’t sure if I cared.

When I’d eventually fallen asleep, it had been to the sound of rain starting to drum on the window and thoughts of a smiling man with dark eyes and an overgrown mullet.

They were the only thoughts that nudged me out of bed in the morning when I woke to rain lashing against the window and a howling wind as a storm raged outside. I groaned and flopped back into bed, seriously tempted to burrow under the covers and stay there because nothing sounded worse than leaving the house at twenty to fucking three in this weather.

But I had bread to bake and croissants to shape. At least it was Saturday, so after this I’d get a couple of days off. I still tended to keep to my same hours though, because trying to change my sleep schedule for two days a week just absolutely fucked with my body. So even if I had a lie-in, I was still usually awake by four and went to bed by seven at the latest. I was used to it though, and I’d adjusted my life around my unconventional hours—going shopping at eight in the morning when it was quiet, and any plans I made with friends or family were for breakfast or lunch, because I was normally asleep by the time they wanted to go out in the evening.

Dating was a different question, but finding early morning or afternoon hook-ups had never been a problem.

Heaving myself out of bed, I dressed and wolfed down a bowl of knockoff cinnamon chip cereal while watching the rain out of the window. Luckily there was a small carpark near Toasty I could use for free, so I wouldn’t have to get too wet.

And I managed to stay fairly dry until I’d virtually walked in the door… when I stepped in a puddle by the back door that wasmuchdeeper than I’d realised. Water sloshed over my trainers and soaked into my socks, drenching the bottom of my jeans and giving me nightmare flashbacks to being a teenager in the noughties with my ragged, wide-legged jeans that always got soaked.

“Oh for fucks sake,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake my feet off as I stepped inside, but somehow that just made it worse. Everything felt squelchy and disgusting, and I was now stuck like this for a couple of hours. The only thing I could do was take my trainers and socks off and grab the emergency pair of catering Crocs that I kept under the desk. I fucking hated wearing them, but I didn’t have much choice.

It soured my mood, so I put on my favourite metal playlist and began to stomp around the kitchen.

I was still feeling grumpy when Charley came in—my mood not helped by her laughing at me—and the only thing getting me through the morning was the hope that Jace might be back.

When I saw the flash of red out of the corner of my eye, it felt like a sudden break in the clouds. I turned and saw him standing outside the kitchen window, wrapped up under a large, red umbrella. He waved and then moved towards the bakery door, and I immediately went to wash my hands so I could duck behind the counter.

“Hey,” I said, ignoring Jackie’s teasing smile from beside me. “Back again.”

“Absolutely,” he said with a smile as he looked at the stack of croissants. “They were too good to only have once.”

“Which did you prefer?”

“Not sure. More testing is required I think.”

“Want another of each then?”

“Yes please,” he said, looking over at the bread and letting out a wistful sigh as I grabbed some tongs, my eyes scanning the counter for the most perfect croissant I could see. “I still have some of the bread from yesterday but… I keep thinking about the focaccia. And you have some today.”

“You should get some,” I said. “Mostly because it’ll be your last chance before next Tuesday when we open again. And if you’ve still got some sourdough, you can always freeze it. Either in one piece or pre-sliced.”

“There you go, twisting my arm again,” he said, a mischievous sparkle in his dark eyes. “I’ll definitely take a focaccia then please.”

I grinned and grabbed one to slid into a separate paper bag, the warm bread wafting a heavenly trail of rosemary and garlic through the air. “Here you go.”

“That smells so good,” he said, inhaling deeply as I put his total into the tablet so he could pay. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“I hope you do.”

“I’ll come back next week and let you know.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said, as he picked up the bag with his pastries in, sliding it into a shopping bag he pulled out of his pocket.