Page 8 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

I use Monday to inventory and order more supplies and test a few new recipes in my bakery kitchen.

Since the bakery is closed, I crank up the music on my phone and get lost in the sugar and flour.

The blue cheese éclairs I tried are a bust, and I toss them into the trash.

Nasty. But I’m pleased with how the coconut cream cupcakes turn out.

I get on social media and check on my post asking for another cashier. No one has answered. I ride my motorcycle to my apartment and sink into my couch. It’s only six o’clock, but I’m beat.

I pull out my phone, order a pizza, and text Amelia.

I still haven’t found anyone to replace my cashier. Can you cover tomorrow, until Kiera gets off school?

She replies quickly.

I was planning on it.

I shoot her back a smiley emoji and a thumbs-up. But then I feel a little rude for not saying anything, so I quickly text a thank-you. And just to be snarky, I tack on:

Your cousin won’t be coming in with you, right?

After a pause, she texts back.

Why would Rafe come in to work with me?

I don’t know. Why did he crash our dinner date?

I purposely call it a date to get under her skin. It worked.

IT WAS NOT A DATE!

I laugh as I text back.

Not a very good one, with your handsy cousin hanging out with us. By the way, it’s creepy to date your cousin. Just sayin’.

She texts me back an eye roll emoji.

I’m not dating anyone right now. I’m single and staying that way.

You might want to tell Rafe. He likes you.

He does not. He’s just overprotective.

I laugh and toss my phone onto the couch. I know when a man likes a woman. Rafe does not think of Amelia as family, that’s for sure. Not that I care. It’s not my problem.

I go into the kitchen and grab a soda. My phone chimes from the other room. I rush back into the living room to see what Amelia sent me.

Be ready to put your next six months of expenses into my program.

I smile, even though I hate the idea of spending my birthday talking about numbers. Boring. Maybe I can tease Amelia about it and make her blush again. I think of something funny to say back to her.

Whoa, stop coming on to me, Spreadsheet. It’s a rule of mine not to date people who work for me.

I’ll try not to be too disappointed.

Her answer makes me laugh out loud.

Wow, Amelia. I think you just told a joke. I didn’t think you had it in you.

See? You don’t know me. I can be funny.

I stare at her text, reminding me that I don’t really know her. But that’s not my fault. I tried to get to know her, but she spent the entire time lying to me. What’s up with that?

And the whole thing with her cousin was really weird too. When I walked out of the restaurant, she and Rafe were talking, their faces close together. Another inch and it could have been a make-out session. I walked by them, but neither of them saw me. They were deep in conversation.

Unease sweeps through me, and I realize whatever is going on between Amelia and Rafe, it’s none of my business. Like Amelia keeps saying, I’m her employer, that’s all. I need to keep my distance, because this whole situation isn’t normal.

I shoot off a quick text, setting a more professional tone.

See you tomorrow.

There. I’ll just have to keep an eye on how I interact with Amelia.

Tuesday, September 1

I pull the tray of croissants out of the oven and grab a knife so I can cut them open and squeeze in the buttercream. As I work, my mouth waters. They smell divine, and I’m secretly excited to see what Amelia will think of them.

Yes, she probably threw my cupcake away, but maybe it was too sweet for her. These croissants are flaky and buttery with just a touch of cream and sugar. They’re not nearly as sweet as the cupcake was.

The back door opens, and Amelia walks in, thirty minutes before we open. She’s wearing her usual business attire, her hair in another bun. I might have to call her in unexpectedly again to see her in another T-shirt. That was a good look on her.

She smiles at me. “What are you making? They smell great.”

Elated, I grab a small plate and put one on it. “Buttercream croissants. Here. Try one.”

She stops short, and her smile fades. “Oh no. I couldn’t possibly eat one. You need to sell them.”

“I insist.” I shove the plate at her. “They’re best warm.”

She takes the plate. “Wow… thank you. I’ll save it for later.”

“Oh, right. That whole sugar-in-the-morning thing you have.” I eye her skeptically. “Is that really a thing?”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I honestly can’t eat it… right now.”

I study her face, and she does look sorry that she can’t eat it. In fact, it looks like it pains her. Huh. Maybe she’s not lying. “No problem. I’m sure it will still taste good later.”

She smiles at me. “Let’s see if we can sell more today than we did on opening day. If you let me log into your socials, I’ll post photos of your creations.”

I cringe, feeling dumb. “I haven’t created business socials yet.”

Amelia raises her eyebrows. “Well, then that’s the first thing I’ll do today.” She disappears into the office, taking the croissant with her.

Fifteen minutes later, she comes into the kitchen. “How does this look?” She holds out her phone.

I pull off my gloves and take the phone. A photo of the croissant I gave her with a sprig of lilacs on the side fills the screen. The purple flowers contrast nicely with the beige croissant, making it pop.

“That looks amazing. How did you do that?”

“I clipped off some lilacs on my way in today. Thought I could use them in some photos.” She takes her phone back, pleased with my compliment.

“Where did you get lilacs? I thought you lived in an apartment complex.”

She blushes and puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell. The house down the street from my apartment has a huge bush. I didn’t think they’d mind.”

I gasp in mock horror. “Well, well. Spreadsheet’s got a criminal streak. Tell me, was it the thrill of the crime or the thrill of impressing your favorite baker?”

She elbows my side, a wicked grin splaying across her face. “Trust me, if I was committing crimes to get your attention, you’d be a lot more flustered right now.”

She walks away, and I’m left staring after her, my world tilting at a strange angle. I have a hard time recovering, my pulse skyrocketing.

What just happened? Did Amelia flirt with me? And did I like it?