Page 18 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

Yes. That was so very much exactly what I felt, but with a little more angst andennui. Normally, that was the sort of segue that would have encouraged me to kick up my feet and settle in for an hour-long discussion about bucket lists and philosophical ponderings of life, but I suddenly felt restless.

“I noticed there are a lot of bakeries and bookshops here. Do you think they do well?”

Giles cocked his head, possibly confused by my abrupt topic change. “They must do all right. Especially with tourists. And on Saturdays, it’s more crowded in town than usual. Let’s have a walkabout, shall we?”

“Sure.”

The streets were congested from the abbey to New Bond Street, but they were positively packed on Milsom. I scanned the wide cobblestone street, admiring the well-preserved Georgian architecture and colorful shop windows.

As we meandered through the crowd, Giles resumed his duties as a tour guide, pointing out the grand stone edifices.

“This section was built in 1762, and these buildings were townhouses. Most are now used as shops and…”

I listened with half an ear, taking in my surroundings like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to pop inside bookshops and peruse stores laden with British goodies to buy things I didn’t need, like Union Jack tea cups. I wanted to read the plaques affixed to every other building, listing all the famous people who’d lived here or walked these very streets hundreds of years ago. Like Jane Austen.

I made a mental note to reread her books ASAP when a mint-and-white awning caught my eye. I moved instinctively toward it with Giles close behind, stopping short to peer into the window at the glass shelves filled with delicious-looking baked goods under elegant glass domes. Lemon scones, fruit tarts, and elegant cakes topped with fancy chocolate designs…

This was it.

Scott’s Bakery.

My heart beat double time as I peeked into the window, hoping he’d walk out from behind the counter and—

What? Kiss me in the middle of his shop in front of his customers and employees like some romantic hero in the closing scene of a rom-com? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. But I was here now and I could hardly contain my curiosity.

I tapped the glass and turned to Giles. “I’m going inside. Be right back.”

He marched to the entrance and held the door open for me. “I’ll come too. Those macarons look lovely.”

A pretty woman with curly blond hair greeted us with a wave and a friendly, “Ha-lloo!” before continuing a conversation about pie crust with a group of tourists. She wore a navy polka-dot dress under a frilly red apron that matched her ruby-red lipstick. I liked her style.

I wondered if she was the local Scott hired, and because I was nosy, I angled my head for a peek into the adjacent kitchen. I couldn’t see much, but it looked as if she was the only one working in the shop. I spied a few pies cooling on a marble ledge and breathed in the heady scent of sugar and spice and warm apples, then turned my attention to the display case filled with treats.

Cakes, scones, traditional biscuits, macarons, tarts…I was impressed.

The store itself was as charming as the website hinted. Black and white marble tiled flooring, a high ceiling with ornate molding, and a funky gemstone chandelier. The walls were a soft eucalyptus that complemented the mint logo and the—

“Theo?”

I whirled to the register, swallowing around the Sahara in my mouth at the sight of the yummy hunk carrying a tray of miniature fruit tarts.

Wow, he was dreamy. The combination of his slightly disheveled hair, sexy beard, twinkling eyes, and that apron did something to me. As in…I lost my voice.

And then I must have lost my mind. I stared at him blankly and opened my mouth, willing myself to say something suave and intelligent.

“Yes, hello. It’s me. Theo. From the plane.”

Or not.

Scott chuckled, setting the tray on the counter. A wide grin took over his handsome face as he moved toward me. “Yeah. Theo from the plane. I remember you.”

My face felt like a furnace. I lowered my eyes as if that would keep my blush in check. I doubt it worked.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood,” I bluffed. “Your shop is great and your baked goods look positively delectable.”

“Thanks. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Cupcakes.”