Page 17

Sabrina had made an extra effort with her appearance for the past few weeks, but today was the day. She’d gotten up early to smooth her curls, brushed on some eye shadow, contoured her cheeks so they looked less pudgy, and worn her most flattering pair of jeans (the ones that made her ass look good).

She couldn’t believe her luck that the awkward little weirdo who had gone missing had somehow been replaced by this broody hunk that made her nipples hard. But it had been weeks now, and he’d barely spoken half a dozen words to her. Four of them had been Dustin is doing better despite the fact that she hadn’t asked.

She had decided to try a new tactic and arrived at the bakery extra early, planning to offer to be helpful.

Their hands would touch as they both reached for a rolling pin, and he’d brush some flour off her cheek, and then he’d kiss her. He’d taste like shortbread.

She shuddered with pleasure at the thought.

She unlocked the front door and breathed in the familiar scent of cinnamon and yeast. Shane poked his head out and nodded at her.

“Good morning!” she said brightly.

“Morning,” he replied, before disappearing again.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. He was a single-word-response kind of guy, if he responded at all. Normally she wouldn’t have tried so hard – she shouldn’t have to try so hard! – but he was just so hot and all she wanted to do was show up to Marianne’s house with him in tow so that Marianne would finally stop peacocking about her lame, hockey player boyfriend. It might be nice to rub Holly the wrong way, too.

She pranced into the small kitchen and hopped up on one of the stainless-steel counters while swinging her legs, arching her back and sticking her tits out.

“Hope I’m not bothering you!” she chimed brightly. “Had some extra time today, I thought maybe I could help?”

He shrugged.

Holy cannoli, give me something to work with. Anything!

“So is it okay?” she pressed. “If I help?”

He wiped his hands on his apron and then pulled it off, dropping it in the laundry basket.

“All good,” he said, gesturing to the rows of cooling racks. They were all full.

Her nostrils flared and she ground her teeth, but she fought to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Want to make something extra? Something just for us?”

He looked at her funny. Yes! Yes! Finally, he’s going to say something!

But then he reached under the counter and pulled out a box – cinnamon rolls – and held it out for her.

“What’s this?” she asked, eyeing him.

“Extra.”

He just stood there, staring at her, holding the box. Eventually he looked at her funny again, like she was a little bit dumb, and then set the box down beside her, picked up his backpack, and disappeared out the back door.

Val from the Money Mart showed up around 7:30, rubbing her pregnant belly and waddling in for her morning gossip session.

“You feel okay today, Sabrina?” she asked, her mouth full. “You seem out of sorts.”

“I’m fine,” Sabrina snapped. “Just tired. I came in early to help the baker.”

“Oooooh,” Val moaned, “I knew something tasted different! You should help more often! This is definitely the best cinnamon bun I’ve ever had.”

“It’s just because you’re pregnant,” Sabrina grumbled.

She thought the cinnamon buns were dry.