Page 46 of Knot Your Sugar

"Trust yourself," he continues, his hand now on my shoulder. "Trust your instincts. They've brought you this far."

I look up at him, this man who judges my work and seems to see beyond the surface, who challenges me to be better while making me feel capable of greatness. "And if I fail spectacularly?"

"Then you'll have failed at something worth attempting." His smile is soft, encouraging. "Besides, I have a feeling spectacular failure isn't in your vocabulary."

His words settle over me, and for the first time, I let myself imagine what it might be like to not just win the competition, but claim the freedom to be unapologetically myself.

The thought terrifies me.

But it also feels like coming home.

Chapter twenty-four

Elena

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the festival grounds as I meticulously wipe down my workstation.

Today's shortened schedule means freedom by five o'clock, and the promise of an early evening off feels like a decadent éclair I can't wait to devour. My mind, however, is still buzzing, replaying Dorian's words from our feedback session like a song stuck on repeat:"...completely, fearlessly yours."

Could I actually pull it off? Bake something that’s authenticallyme, after years of repressing myself and channeling Pierre’s vision, keeping my own ideas locked away? Dorian seems to think so. It’s like he sees the baker I’ve only dared to be in my dreams.

And damn did that whole exchange feel… intimate. In some ways, much more so than what happened between us in the woods.

"Lost in thoughts of sugar plums?"

I jump, turning to find Cole leaning against the end of my workstation, looking unfairly good in civilian clothes: a simple dark t-shirt that stretches appealingly across his broad chest and worn jeans that, by the looks of it, fits his ass just right.

"Something like that," I admit, offering him a slightly flustered smile. "And what's with the clothes? Shouldn't you be patrolling for rogue sparks or something?"

"My heroic duties are on a brief hiatus," he says, that little half-smile I'm starting to adore playing on his lips. "The evening safety briefing isn't for another two hours. Which, conveniently, leaves just enough time to escort a certain hardworking baker home."

I raise an eyebrow, trying for playful skepticism. "And how do you know said baker isn't planning to wild out on the town? Hit up Lakeview's thriving bar scene."

Cole snorts. "Right. Because nothing says 'wilding out' like Mrs. Jenkins's book club at the library."

"Hey, that's only on Mondays!" I shoot back. "And I'll have you know those ladies can get pretty rowdy over wine and Jane Austen."

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, since your wild fun’s a few days away… how about I walk you home, with a slight detour? I know a spot."

"A spot?" I echo, intrigued. "One I don't know after three years?"

"Yep," he replies, his gaze holding mine. "Even for someone who's been soaking up Lakeview's charm for all this time, I bet this one's new to you."

The offer is casual, but there's an undercurrent of something more that makes my stomach perform a series of excited little flips. "Lead the way, Lieutenant," I say, trying to match his easy tone, even though my heart has apparently decided to pick up a salsa rhythm.

We walk in comfortable silence, the buzz of the festival fading behind us. Cole guides me down a quiet side street I’ve passed a hundred times but never bothered to explore, past charming old Victorian houses with inviting wraparound porches and gardens exploding with vibrant blooms. The air smells sweet, a mix of freshly cut grass, roses, and something that might just be impending romance.

"So, this scenic detour," I ask, as we turn onto a narrow, almost hidden gravel path lined with elegant silver birch trees "you sure you're not just luring me into the woods to, you know… pick up where we left off last night?"

What the… did I really just say that?

"You wound me," he replies, clutching his chest in mock offense. "I’m a gentlemanandI take my role as tour guide seriously. This is strictly scenic." He throws me a wink.

The path opens suddenly, revealing a scene that literally steals my breath away. Tucked away like a carefully guarded secret is a small, secluded pond, its surface as smooth and reflective as polished glass, mirroring the clear blue sky above. A weathered wooden dock extends a short way into the still water, and a single, sturdy wooden bench sits on the grassy shore. It’s breathtaking.

"This," Cole says quietly, his voice a satisfying rumble beside me, "is Turner's Pond. I used to sneak off here as a kid, whenever I needed to escape my chores or just… think."

"It's… magical," I breathe, sinking onto the bench. "How have I lived in Lakeview for three years and never known this place existed?"

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