Chapter 1
SETH
Seth had no idea why he’d moved to Washington. Like, what the hell had he been thinking?
Okay, maybe he had some idea. He’d wanted—drumroll, please—a change. (God, could he get any more basic?)
To be fair, he’d also wanted to finally open his own bakery, and his tiny town in Maine hadn’t had any opportunities in that regard.
So that had led to—of course—impulsively moving all the way across the country, where Seth knew nothing and no one, to a different tiny town, and then opening his beloved new bakery for the first time on a cold, rainy weekday, where he’d had his doors unlocked for two hours and had served approximately zero customers.
Seth straightened his little plate of samples for the fifth time in a minute.
This was a disaster.
He’d known this was a small community—in taking this rental, he’d been replacing the only other bakery in town—but didn’t anyone here eat pastries?
They were damned good pastries too. Seth had made sure of that. His new place might have only been big enough for three tables and a pastry case, but the case was full, the walls were now painted a cheerful yellow, he had hot coffees and teas and—
Was that a customer? Seth craned his neck to peer out the front window.
But no, it was only a bird flying by. Seth had just been catfished by an avian shadow.
Oh God, he was screwed. So screwed.
So, really, what the hell had he been thinking?
Back at home he would have served all his regulars by now.
Townspeople Seth knew not only by name but by pastry preference and morning constitution.
He’d known who to flirt with, who to sympathize with, and who preferred Seth be a wordless automaton exchanging silence for Danishes and coffee (not Seth’s forte—silence—but he’d done his best).
He would have been complimented on his headband by now too, an adorable cloth number he’d made himself out of a bright sunflower pattern, to offset the gloominess of the weather.
But there were no compliments to be found here. No regulars. No nothing.
The front door opened, Seth’s cheery little bell ringing, and Seth tried very, very hard not to look off-putting in his intense, ecstatic enthusiasm over his first customer.
“Welcome to Coastal Crumbs!”
Oh, he’d said that too loud. Way too loud.
The tall, scruffy man with a wiggling bundle in his arms gave Seth a nod, then set down his load. The bundle turned out to be a little human, somewhere in the toddler years, with round cheeks and damp curls, his tiny body all wrapped up in a puffy rainproof jacket.
As soon as the toddler spotted the pastry case, he started chanting, “Doh-nuh! Doh-nuh!”
The scruffy man, who might have been this toddler’s father, gave Seth a look somewhere between a wince and a smile.
He was kind of cute, if one liked older, wholesome types.
Which Seth sometimes did, depending on his mood.
But his mood right now was life regrets and panic, so he wasn’t focused too much on the rest.
“Hey, you got any donuts?”
Seth’s overly enthusiastic smile fell. No, of course not.
Of course he hadn’t baked one of the most classic bakery fares in existence.
He had croissants, and scones, and a really amazing kouign-amann he’d had to beat into submission with layers and layers of rolling and folding and so much butter he should have had a share in the nation’s dairy business. But no donuts.
Seth had gotten out of the habit back home, where one of the local cafés was known for their maple donuts, and Seth hadn’t wanted to step on any toes and…
“Um…” Seth cast his gaze around, as if a wild donut might appear from nowhere.
The man’s face fell, although he quickly turned it into a smile when the little toddler looked back at him, asking again, “Doh-nuh?”
The presumed dad cleared his throat. “I made the mistake of giving him a bite of mine the other day, and ever since—”
Struck by sudden genius, Seth leaned forward, whispering, “If I cut a hole in the center of a brioche bun, would he know the difference?”
The dad’s look of relief was almost painful to witness. “No, no, he really wouldn’t. I tried not to give him the bits with icing anyway.”
Seth leaned back, raising his voice loud enough for the kiddo to hear. “One donut, coming up!”
The toddler started clapping his chubby hands, chanting again, “Doh-nuh! Doh-nuh!”
Seth got to work, taking a brioche roll off its stand and cutting it surreptitiously into something resembling a donut. The dad busied himself perusing the case, then added, “And a coffee and one of those pecan scones, please.”
“Sure thing.” Seth couldn’t stop grinning, although he was doing his best to keep it a trifle less manic. A real customer and a real order, even if Seth was busting out a fake donut to make it happen.
“Slow day, huh?”
“I might be a pariah already.”
Seth said it cheerfully enough—his mood was picking up with this bit of human interaction—but he wasn’t exactly joking either.
Had he offended the townspeople here without knowing it?
Because as much as he didn’t mind a solitary kitchen when he was working, Seth needed balance.
He simply wasn’t made to waste away in silence with only his own thoughts for company.
“Oh, no.” The dad rocked back on his heels. “They’re just waiting on the verdict.”
Seth paused in the act of placing the fake donut in a white paper bag. “Verdict from who, exactly?”
“I guess me, if I’m the first.” The dad rubbed a hand over his scruffy facial hair, ignoring the little creature tugging on his pant legs, clearly getting impatient with Seth’s slow pace.
“Let me just…” Seth snagged a croissant and a lemon bar, adding them to the bag. “On the house.”
The dad laughed, flashing white teeth. “You don’t need to bribe me. Even if I say it’s awful, they’ll start trickling in over the next few days. And on the weekends you’ll get traffic from the highway, folks on their way up to the islands. People like to stop here for coffee and a bite.”
“Really?” Seth sagged against the counter as he handed his goods over, relief making his bones weak. “You’re making me feel so much better.”
“I mean, be warned: it is a small community.” The dad broke off a piece of fake donut and placed it in his son’s grabby hands before reaching for his wallet.
“I like small communities,” Seth told him.
The small size of the town had been part of the appeal when Seth had chosen Pine Bluff for his big move.
But he’d been operating on such a whim—and moving in such a hurry—that he hadn’t made as big a deal of his grand opening as might have been good for business.
Seth had thought, since he’d been replacing another bakery, that he’d have a built-in customer base.
Apparently he should have won the locals over first.
“Moh!” the toddler cried, having consumed his bite in record time. Although, it appeared he had more crumbs around his mouth than whatever had actually made it inside. “Moh!”
The dad looked down at his son as Seth ran his payment. “What do you say?”
The toddler grinned, displaying four tiny front teeth. “Peez?”
Oh, lordy. Seth didn’t want any little chaos gremlins of his own right now, but he still melted, just a little. He was tempted to rush to the back and make a baker’s dozen of donuts right that second.
The dad gave his son another bite, tossing Seth a smile. “You have your first rave review, I think.” He held out a hand. “I’m Luke, and this is my son, Colby.”
Seth shook hands. “Nice to meet you.” So nice. The nicest.
Luke picked Colby up, juggling his coffee and bag of pastries in the other hand. Before they turned away, Colby reached out a small, pudgy hand, pointing to the cloth headband holding back Seth’s curls. “Piddy.”
Luke grinned. “It is pretty, isn’t it?” He shot Seth a friendly wink, and they walked out the door.
A rave review and a compliment, albeit from a small human with a filthy face.
Seth would take it. He’d take all of it.
It wasn’t like he had much choice.
But now Seth was left alone again, with only his soothing rainy-day playlist to keep him company. He resisted the urge to bang his head down on the counter, as that would be unprofessional and thus beneath him.
Really. What the hell had he been thinking?
By the time Seth closed up for the day, he’d had a few more customers, to his immense relief.
There’d been an older couple who’d stopped bickering only long enough to order two croissants and two hot chocolates, a young woman who’d chosen a large selection of pastries and politely ignored the fact that Seth had almost wept from gratitude, and a teenage girl Seth was clocking for future makeup tips before his next big night out.
It was better than nothing, surely, but it still wasn’t exactly the warm welcome of Seth’s dreams.
It was his own fault though. He should have put more effort into integrating into the community in the weeks leading up to his opening. Sure, he’d made social media accounts for the bakery and posted a few times, passed some flyers to local businesses, but he hadn’t done much schmoozing on his own.
But he’d had his whole life to unpack, and the weather had been so daunting, and it had been easier to focus on prepping recipes and redecorating the small space, keeping himself in his own little bubble.
He needed to get over all that, though, if he wanted to make this work.
And he did want to make it work, even if he wouldn’t exactly be homeless and destitute if he failed.
He’d been pretty frugal and had a decent nest egg for padding, and he was only twenty-six, which was probably the perfect age for a life failure or two.
Who are you trying to convince? a little voice asked him as he packed away far too many leftover pastries.
Himself, obviously. He was trying to convince himself.
Methinks the Seth doth protest too much.