Page 4 of Nolan

My phone buzzes with a text from Daisy.

D: How's the hot dad situation?

I groan. I'd made the mistake of telling her about the kiss during our weekly dinner. I respond with a quick two words.

A: Don't start

Grabbing my purse, I check the clock on my phone. I'm running early, which means I have time to make a stop before heading to Nolan's house.

The drive to Get Baked, a bakery downtown, gives me too much time to think. The kiss had been a mistake, a beautiful, heart-stopping mistake. There have been a couple times since I started working for him where I wanted something more than what we had. But I'd always been able to convince myself it was just me. Until he took the plunge and kissed me.

Now? Now I can't forget about it.

Get Baked's bell chimes as I push open the door, the heavenly scent of fresh pastries momentarily distracting me from my thoughts. It's bustling with morning customers, and I join the line, scanning the display cases filled with colorful macaroons, flaky croissants, and decadent cakes.

"Annabelle, how are you today. Haven't seen you in a while."

I look up to see Gabby, the bakery's owner, waving at me from behind the counter. Her hair is contained in a bright bandana, and flour dusts her cheeks.

"Hey, Gabby," I smile, stepping up to the counter when it's my turn. "I know, I was starting to gain weight," I laugh. "How are you?"

"Busy as always, but can't complain. The usual for you?" She reaches for a blueberry muffin, my typical order.

"Actually," I hesitate, feeling my cheeks warm, "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

Gabby raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Sure thing, girl. What's up?"

"Do you know what Nolan usually orders when he comes in?"

Her smile widens into a grin. "Ohhh, so it's like that, huh?"

"No, it's not," I start, but she waves away my protest.

"Girl, please. I see that blush. But I get it, he's quite the catch. Every time he comes in here, he cuts line, and no one says a damn word to him. Not to mention, he's such a devoted dad." She leans in conspiratorially. "Nolan always gets a cinnamon roll. Extra icing. He's got a hell of a sweet tooth."

My heart does a little flip at this answer. It's something I didn't know before. "Could I get two of those to go, please?"

"Coming right up." Gabby packs two enormous cinnamon rolls into a pink box, the frosting gleaming under the bakery lights. "Good luck," she winks as she hands me the box.

"Thanks, but it's not," I stop myself. What's the point in denying it? "Thanks, Gabby."

Back in my car, the sweet cinnamon scent fills the space, and I find myself growing nervous as I drive toward Nolan's neighborhood. What if he thinks this is too forward? What if he regrets the kiss entirely and wants to keep things strictlyprofessional? What if I'm making a fool of myself? It wouldn't be the first time.

But then I remember the tenderness in his eyes when he looks at Ashlynn, how his whole face lights up when she accomplishes something new. I think about how he tries to take the random afternoon off so he can be with her. A man who loves his daughter that much has a heart worth knowing. He's the kind of man I've always wanted to be with.

I pull into his driveway at exactly 8 AM, my usual time. Taking a deep breath, I grab the bakery box and my bag, then head to the front door. I use my key, and step inside.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice embarrassingly shaky.

"In the kitchen." Nolan's deep voice responds, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I find him at the counter, laptop open, coffee mug in hand. His dark hair is slightly rumpled, like he's been running his hands through it, a habit I've noticed when he's stressed about work. He's wearing a simple gray t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders in a way that makes my mouth go dry. It has to be stressful running a business like he does. He's responsible for a handful of full-time employees, and a whole bunch of seasonal ones. My nerves couldn't handle it.

"Morning," I say, aiming for that casual cheerfulness I'd practiced but landing somewhere closer to breathless. All because he looks like my country-boy wet dream. He's got the truck, the dirty boots, the jeans with holes (ass worn out), and a t-shirt that is two washes away from being completely done for.

His eyes meet mine, and there's a moment of charged silence before his gaze drops to the pink box in my hands. "What's that?"

"Oh," I set my bag down and step closer, placing the box on the counter between us like a peace offering. "I stopped at GetBaked on my way here." I open the lid, revealing the cinnamon rolls. "Gabby mentioned these are your favorite."

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