Page 3 of Sweetly Yours

Her kindness just makes it harder to leave. I glance at her, then at the tip jar on the counter, and slide the five in with a deliberate motion.

She opens her mouth to argue but stops, her eyes meeting mine. There’s something in that gaze—warmth, curiosity, maybe even something more—that makes it hard to walk away.

I grip the bag tightly, forcing myself to step back. She doesn’t need to know how crazy I already am about her. Not yet.

“See you soon, Willow,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

As I step out into the crisp morning air, the scent of cinnamon follows me down the street, and all I can think is that I need her in my life. All of her. Forever.

CHAPTER THREE

WILLOW

The bell jingles as Brock leaves, and I stare at the door for a moment longer than I should, clutching the card with his number written in bold, confident handwriting.

“‘Call me. Anytime,’” June mimics in a deep voice behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Stop it,” I hiss, spinning around to glare at her.

Her smile is unapologetic. “What? I’m just saying, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Gorgeous knows how to lay it on thick.” She props her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the counter like she’s watching the best rom-com of the year. “And you, my friend, are the leading lady who has no idea how hot she is.”

I roll my eyes and set Brock’s card down on the counter, smoothing the edge with my finger. “He just wanted pastries for his event. It’s business.”

June snorts. “Honey, if that man is thinking about business, I’m the queen of England. Did you not see the way he waslooking at you? Like he wanted to toss you over his shoulder and carry you off to his cave.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I turn toward the tray of cinnamon rolls to avoid her gaze. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right.”

I grab the piping bag and start frosting the rolls, hoping she’ll drop it, but she’s relentless.

“Okay, let’s review the evidence,” June says, ticking points off on her fingers. “One: he brought you flowers. Sunflowers, which just so happen to be your favorite.”

“That could’ve been a coincidence.”

“Two: he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time he was here.”

I shrug, but my cheeks are flaming now.

“Three,” she continues, leaning in like she’s about to deliver a knockout punch. “He gave you his number. On a card. Like some kind of hot businessman who’s secretly pining for the girl next door.”

I glance at the card again, and for a moment, I let myself wonder. What if June’s right? What if Brock Steele—rugged, gorgeous, and clearly capable of building things with those ridiculously large hands—really does see me as more than just the baker who made his muffins last week?

I shake my head, brushing the thought away. “Even if he did… it’s not like it matters. Guys like him don’t go for women like me.”

June’s expression softens, and she walks around the counter to stand beside me. “Willow, you’ve got to stop selling yourself short. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous, even. And if Brock Steele can see it, then maybe it’s time you started seeing it too.”

I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes and offer her a small smile. “Thanks, June.”

“Don’t thank me,” she says, nudging me with her elbow. “Just promise me you’ll call him. Even if it’s just to talk about cupcakes.”

I laugh softly, finishing the last cinnamon roll and setting the piping bag down. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of customers, coffee orders, and Valentine’s cookie inquiries. Every time the bell jingles, I find myself glancing toward the door, half-expecting Brock to come back. He doesn’t, but his card stays tucked into the corner of the counter, a silent reminder that maybe, just maybe, something could be different this time.

Around lunchtime, I finally take a break, sinking into one of the stools behind the counter with a sigh. Frankie is snoozing in his bed near the back, his little body rising and falling with each breath.

I reach down to scratch behind his ears, smiling as he snuffles in his sleep. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh, bud? Nap, eat, repeat.”

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