Page 2 of A Gingerbread Romance

Greta still had her doubts about whether he was actually going to look like the guy in the picture. “Right, if that was even him. You know how people lie about themselves on these dating apps.”

Abby didn’t try to disguise the chuckle under her breath. “True, but we’ll soon find out, eh? And by the way, I want all the deets. First thing tomorrow.” Abby had already explained she’d be working late on a big case tonight at the office.

Greta felt a rush of nerves as she opened the door to The Pub on Main. The hum of lively chatter and music filled her ears, so she raised her voice as she wound through the bar. “Don’t joke around, Abby. I’m serious. What if he looks nothing like the guy in the picture? How will I even know who he is?”

“Then I guess you can leave without meeting him. And you’ll live out a lovely spinster life for the rest of your days. Remind me to drop off a couple of starter cats for the house.”

Greta grinned in spite of herself. Abby was bold and impulsive, while Greta liked to think things through. She never would’ve set up an account on a dating app if left to her own devices. And, for that matter, she probablywoulddie a spinster if it weren’t for people like Abby to force her off of her couch at night.

Another wave of nerves washed over her as she glanced around the busy bar, spotting an empty table with two high-backed leather barstools on the other end of the room. She was early, so she might as well snag a seat.

She waded through the lively clusters of people. “Remind me again why you did this without telling me.” Reaching the table, she slipped out of her coat and hung it over a chair with her purse.

“Because you never would’ve said yes if I had asked you first. You’re too stubborn, and you know it.”

Okay, so Abby had her there. Jean had remarked on Greta’s mule-ish nature more than once. But this whole thing was making her so anxious—it wasn’t worth it!

“And that is because I don’t need your help, Abby.” She raised her voice again above the noisy hum of the bar, brimming with excuses. “I have too much going on right now. I don’t need a love life.”

“Excuse me,” came a deep, if not sexy male voice from somewhere behind her.

Greta’s heart plunged into her stomach, her limbs suddenly freezing up. With her phone still at her ear, she turned around slowly, where she met the eyes of…a very good-looking man. She gasped quietly.

“Are you Greta?” he asked politely.

Wow, his picture had not lied.

Embarrassment rushed over her. How much of her conversation had he heard? She felt her forehead burning like brimstone.

“I’ve gotta go,” she muttered into the phone. She hung up without waiting for Abby to respond and placed the device gently onto the table.

Her pulse began to race, and even the dim lighting that cast a warm glow across the room couldn’t have hidden the bright red tint that her cheeks must’ve turned. “Uh, yes, I’m Greta. Greta Ross.”

Unfortunately, no other words came to her. She just gawked at his toned arms and chest, obvious even under his perfectly tailored, two-piece suit. A silk tie hung loosely around his neck, and the top-notch on his white dress shirt was casually unbuttoned. Tall, dark, and handsome… He looked like something off the cover of Esquire magazine. And killing it, at that.

“I’m Jonathan Olsen,” he said, offering his hand, and she blushed again when her fingers met his warm grip, firm and confident to match the winning smile on his face.

Still speechless, she found herself gauging just how much he did, in fact, resemble his profile picture. Only in that photo, he’d donned a cashmere sweater over a crew-neck tee shirt, which had also been enough to make Greta swoon, especially considering the perfectly swept-back mound of dark hair on his head.

Okay, so shehadchecked out his picture at length.

“Shall we sit?” he said.

Greta blinked, finally snapping out of it. “Yes, of course.” She smiled, her arms and legs still trembling with embarrassment.

He pulled out her chair, and she climbed into it, neatening the dark, dressy pair of denims she’d changed into after closing the bakery today. Because, just as she’d expected, her work slacks had basically been trashed by sticky candy fingers and a lot of white frosting, even under the apron.

“I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything there.” He glanced at her phone, obviously amused.

“Oh, no, not at all,” she lied, clearing her throat regretfully as he settled into his seat.Oh, my gosh.Honestly, how much had he heard?“I was just…chatting with a friend.”

Mercifully, he seemed to be playing it off if, indeed, he’d heard what she’d said.

At thirty years old, Greta had only had one serious boyfriend in her life, whom she’d met in culinary school. He’d lasted for three years until he’d moved on to greener pastures on the other side of the country.

Still, they hadn’t been very well matched, so it was water under the bridge. Other than that, she’d met and dated various men over the years, but either the timing or the chemistry or the geography hadn’t been right. Still, dating wasn’t a priority right now. The bakery was.

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