Page 3 of A Gingerbread Romance

So, she’d already accepted the fact that spinsterhood might not be so bad.

If it came to that.

Which she truly hoped it wouldn’t. Yet the man sitting across from her was already giving her serious doubts about her plan.

“So, have you been to this pub before?” he started, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He’d get the conversation going, and he wouldn’t immediately focus it on her. No pressure. Keep it light.

“Yes, for sure. I like it. You?”

“Yeah, a few times when I’ve come to town to see my brothers.”

“Oh, you have brothers in town?” Did that mean he didn’t live here himself? Abby had failed to mention that. Although, Greta supposed she could’ve studied more than his profile picture when she’d agreed to the arrangement, because then she would’ve already known. A twinge of disappointment tickled her middle, but she ignored it.

He told her he had two younger brothers, both happily—no, blissfully—married, and that he was from Baltimore and was in town for work.

“Really?” she said. Well, that wasn’t so far away. “I used to live in Baltimore, for six and a half years, actually. It’s a great town. Went to culinary school there and then worked in restaurants across the city.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your profile said you’d worked as a pastry chef?”

“Right.” Greta smiled. She’d forgotten exactly what Abby had written about her, but she’d checked and found it had been both accurate and vague, both of which were important to Greta.

But that meant he’d readherprofile and even noted some of it, which was flattering.

“That’s so cool. Which restaurants?”

She named the best known one, a pricey upscale eatery in a very trendy district of the city.

“Are you kidding me?” Jonathan’s charming smile was already dazzling her, although it was doing nothing to calm her nerves. “Their food is amazing, and I love their desserts. So, is that what you do here, too—work for a restaurant?”

She shook her head. “No, I actually work at a bakery.” She’d already planned not to give him too much personal information, at least until she was sure he wasn’t a stalker type or anything else shady. One had to be careful when one’s best friend set one up on blind dates with strangers, no matter how friendly or good-looking said stranger may be.

“Oh, wow,” said Jonathan, leaning forward and crossing his arms casually over the table. “That’s impressive.” A wide grin spread across his face, taking her breath away. “So, do you have any specialties? I’m a sucker for a good cookie.”

Greta returned the smile, already enjoying his company more than she’d expected to, and they hadn’t even ordered drinks yet.

“Well, this time of year, the snickerdoodles and sugar cookies are very popular, but personally, I think the gingerbread is even better. Not that I do all the baking there.” Greta’s time was spent all over the store now, from inventory to supervising to marketing to finances. The kitchen staff that worked for the Smithfield handled most of the actual baking these days.

He nodded appreciatively, not taking his eyes from hers. “I like that. A woman who knows what she likes. And where can I try one of these creations?”

Greta was surprising herself at how easily she could chat with this guy. In fact, she might even be willing tothankAbby later. “Well,” she said, “we have a little shop in town.”

He didn’t seem to mind the mysterious way she’d answered his question. He was probably accustomed to women being purposely ambiguous about their personal details at first, what with all the dates he must go on, given his ridiculously good looks.

Heck, she was surprised he’d asked her out at all. This guy could have any woman he wanted.

“So, you’re not one to toot your own horn, huh? I like that, too.” Her gaze met his, and she swallowed, losing herself for a long moment in a pair of piercing brown eyes. “Well, I’ll be sure to ask around then, for the best Christmas cookies in town.”

Greta’s insides warmed like an oven full of sugar cookies. She took another deep breath and finally felt herself calming.

“So, tell me, what else do you like to bake?”

Jonathan was so dashing and handsome and sophisticated. She felt like a teenager with a crush, lighting up like a Christmas tree under his attention.

Maybe Abby had been right? Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all?

She leaned in and started to tell him about the gingerbread house she’d just finished putting together.

TWO

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