Page 67 of Finding His Redemption

“Can I just…” He leaned over the counter and brushed his thumb against her throat. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his touch as he gently wiped away the smudge of flour, his thumb lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“You had flour,” he explained. “Right here.”

A flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink. “Hazard of the job,” she whispered, not pulling away from his touch.

The bakery around them seemed to fade, the chatter of customers dimming to a distant hum. All he could see was the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb, the way her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak but had forgotten the words.

“Jax,” she breathed, and the sound of his name on her lips nearly undid him.

He should pull back. Should remember where they were, that half the town was watching them with avid interest. But her skin was so soft, and she was looking at him like he was something worth wanting instead of something to be feared.

“Excuse me,” a woman snapped. “Some of us would like service sometime today.”

They jerked apart, the spell broken. Nessie’s face flamed crimson as she turned toward the middle-aged tourist tapping her manicured nails impatiently on the counter.

“Sorry.” Nessie plastered on a too-bright customer service smile. “What can I get you?”

Jax retreated to his stool, his hand still tingling from the brief contact with her skin. The woman’s disapproving gaze flicked between them before she rattled off her order.

He waited until the woman was gone with her latte and croissant before catching Nessie’s hand again. “Give me that to-do list. I’ll fix what I can.”

She quickly pulled her hand free, her cheeks going pink again. “Oh, no. Jax, you really don’t?—”

“I’m serious. If you could change one thing about this place, what would it be?”

She blinked, then looked around the bakery, her smile turning wry. “Oh, God. Just one thing?”

“Start with one.”

“The counter,” she said without hesitation. “This awful pink Formica has got to go. I’ve been dreaming about butcher block or maybe reclaimed wood.” She scoffed. “Not that I can afford either right now.”

“Okay. What else?”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned forward. “The lighting. These fluorescents give me a headache by noon. I’d love Edison bulbs, maybe some pendant lights over the counter. Something soft and cozy.” She gestured as she spoke, painting the picture with her hands. “And the walls need to be brighter, warmer. This beige is just so... sad.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Every day since I bought the place.” She smiled, a real smile that transformed her face. “I have a whole Pinterest board.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Money. Time. The fact that I’m a single mom running this place solo.” She shrugged. “Dreams are free. Renovations aren’t.”

“So let me help,” he said. “I’m good with my hands.”

She smirked. “I bet you are.”

The double meaning hung between them for a heartbeat before she glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. That small, nervous gesture did something to his insides, turned them liquid and warm.

“But I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.

“You didn’t. I offered. Let me help you, Nessie.”

“That’s... that’s very generous of you.”

“Just repaying the kindness.” He looked down at his coffee. “You’ve been decent to me when most people in this town would rather see me gone.”

“Most people in this town don’t know you.”

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