Page 31 of Killer Confections
My hands stop and my head shoots up. My heart pounds as I swallow and wipe my hands on my apron. Another emotion circles my gut, one I’m choosing to ignore because I shouldn’t be excited at the prospect of finally seeing my stalker.
Could it be?
There’s no way he would show with so many people around…
The goth girl’s head rears back when she sees the look on my face. “Do you want me to tell him to come back later?”
“No,” I say quickly before giving her a tight smile. “I’ll beright out.”
She rolls her eyes before dipping back to the register.
“I got this,” Janette reassures me as she picks up one of the piping bags off the table. She nods to a set of swing doors. “Go and network.”
I pat her shoulder before walking to the front of the store. My nerves grow, crawling up my throat as I move to the register where Miranda rings up a family.
The son, who looks no older than five, holds up a cake pop in the shape of a fox. He smiles brightly, his dimples adorable on his chubby little cheeks.
The dads smile down at him, each holding a cookie with the shop’s logo on the front.
“Come again!” Miranda chirps, waving as the family leaves.
Blair is at the next register over, trying to hide her phone as she types out a quick message.
“Doing great,” I whisper to Miranda before moving to stand beside my other employee.
I look over Blair’s shoulder, my lips tugging up. “I don’t care if you text.”
Her head whips around and she gives me a smirk. “I’m not texting. I’m reading.”
I frown, my gaze shifting to her phone, and my eyes widen.
Tempted to Darkness: A Dark Romance Novel.
My mouth falls open, and I smack her shoulder lightly. “Put that away. You’re seventeen.”
She lifts a brow. “Eighteen next week. Do you even know what a dark romance is, grandma?”
“Grandma?!” I scoff. “I’m twenty-six and yes, I know what a dark romance is. Now, put it away.”
I know what it is because I read them regularly. It’s my favorite genre, but I would never admit that. Especially not to my seventeen-year-old employee.
She rolls her eyes before pocketing her phone. “Whatever. I’ve read far worse on Wattpad and AO3.”
“Wat—what?” I ask in bewilderment.
She smirks, patting my shoulder condescendingly. “It’s okay, gram gram. Your mystery man is over there.” She points to the far side of the room where a man, who looks to be in his early thirties, sits at a table by himself. He has a half-eaten cupcake in front of him and his brown eyes peer around as if he’s searching for someone.
He’s conventionally attractive, with a sharp jaw and long nose. His hair is buzz-cut, and he sports khaki shorts and a black t-shirt with a bakery logo on it. I instantly recognize the logo as the long-standing establishment on Ridge Street.
Miller Family Sweets has been around for decades, passing from one generation to the next. The last I recall, Benson Miller’s son, Chance, inherited the business.
The striking resemblance this man has to the owner is a dead giveaway of who he is.
But is he my stalker?
His eyes survey the lobby, stopping when he spots me at the register. He stands, giving me a dashing smile as he walks over and offers his hand.
“Chance Miller,” he greets me when I outstretched my hand. His warm palm closes around mine as he gives a simple two shakes and releases me. “You must be Loxley Bennett?”
