Chapter 3
CAMERON
“Good morning, Cameron,” Sherri at reception said, looking pointedly at the clock as I entered the building that housed the library and town council offices.
Thinking of cookies had me thinking about Finn Kelly, and I wondered idly what sort of entry he was planning for the competition.
Not that I was worried. There were always one or two new faces who tried their luck, thinking they had what it took, but I was confident I had this thing locked down, just like every other year. No cute, charming redhead was going to sashay into town and steal my title.
He was cute, though. And it had seemed like he was at least trying to make up for his earlier behavior when I’d seen him at the store. Still, now that he’d entered the contest he was technically my opposition, no matter how appealing he was.
And I didn’t even know if he was single, so the whole thing was moot. Although he’d said he was new to town, not we, like you might if you had a partner, so it was possible he was available.
Why was I spending my time thinking about Finn Kelly anyway? I was meant to be reshelving the books in my library cart, but somehow I’d just added Moby Dick to the gay romance shelf—which was a whole other kind of dick.
I took the book back and trundled my little cart over to the correct section and willed myself not to think about Finn, or his dick, and whether he was a true redhead.
I didn’t even like the guy!
Fine, he was objectively attractive, and he had a certain careless charm, but the problem was that when he made those teasing comments of his, I couldn’t decide if he was flirting with me or mocking me, and it was the not knowing that had discomfort swirling in my belly.
I didn’t know which I hated more—the idea that he was making fun of me or that I might actually be too socially inept to see it.
There was a reason I preferred my own company.
By the time I’d shelved the rest of the books, catalogued some new arrivals, and helped Mr. Kennedy put a request in for the Twilight series while holding a serious discussion on the merits of vampires versus werewolves—obviously, werewolves were better—it was time for lunch.
I grabbed my coat and scarf from the back of my chair and was just heading out the library door when I heard Sherri exclaim, “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest! ”
“Well, I baked these last night and thought I’d drop them by as a thank you for making me feel so welcome yesterday,” a warm, familiar voice said. “It’s a family recipe.”
I froze just outside the library door. Why was Finn here? And why was he bringing Sherri gifts—baked gifts?
Don’t get me wrong, I liked Sherri. And she did a great job running the front desk. But I couldn’t think of a single reason for Finn Kelly to be dropping off—what was he dropping off, anyway? I made my way over to the reception desk, and what I saw took my breath away.
Finn was holding a plate of shortbread cookies.
Some of them were decorated with adorable fondant blue and white penguin faces, and others were iced with a marbled effect to look like different-colored Christmas tree ornaments—including some unmistakable rainbow ones—and they were flawless.
The perfectly matched stripes on the main part of the cookies were offset by piped white icing between the colors, with equally perfect curled fondant ribbons perched on the top, and the surfaces gleamed with a sprinkling of sanding sugar.
Every edge was level, every surface smooth, every penguin’s expression bright and cheerful.
Every single cookie was its own little piece of perfection.
I told myself I wasn’t jealous of the skill it must have taken to make them look that good—but I totally was.
“Cameron!” Sherri said, beaming at me. “Look what Finn brought in! Aren’t these the most darling things?”
Finn turned at the mention of my name and grinned, almost like he was pleased to see me. “Oh hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Why would you?” I said.
Finn’s smile faded and Sherri looked between the two of us, her brow creased.
Okay, that had probably sounded rude. “I just meant I never told you I was a librarian, so how could you be expected to guess?” I clarified hastily. I turned my attention to the cookies he was holding and gave him a tentative smile. “These look really great. Top-notch decorating work.”
Finn’s face lit up. “Thanks.” He held the plate out to me. “Can I tempt you?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question?
I picked up a rainbow-patterned bauble cookie with a striped fondant ribbon and bit into it.
I wasn’t expecting anything more than an ordinary shortbread cookie, but I moaned as the shortbread melted in my mouth and vanilla and butter and possibly fairy dust danced across my tongue.
Fuck me, it should have been illegal for something to taste that good.
I took a second bite and moaned again, and Finn’s grin widened.
“I’m guessing you approve, if those noises are anything to go by. ”
“'S’incredible,” I said, stuffing the rest of the cookie into my mouth and hating how good it was.
Sherri picked up a cookie of her own and nibbled at the edge, then let out a sound that I was pretty sure only her husband had heard before now.
Dammit. Finn really could bake.
Sherri finished her cookie with a satisfied sigh and chased the last crumbs from the front of her blouse with a fingertip before saying, “Those are amazing, Finn. Mind you, I’m not surprised they’re good. After all, you are a celebrity baker!”
What?
“What? No, I—” Finn shot Sherri a panicked look. “I wouldn’t say celebrity,” he protested.
Sherri raised an eyebrow and reached under the counter for her phone. She swiped at her screen and a second later she turned it around so I could see an Instagram page. It belonged to FinntastiCakes—and there was Finn, wearing a chef’s jacket and a particularly roguish smile.
The page showed an endless parade of wedding cakes—except these weren’t just cakes.
They were art. Three-, four-, and five-tiered masterpieces, covered in hand-sculpted flowers, the surface of one cake dotted with what looked like tiny diamonds and another draped in piped latticework, and all of them so perfect they took my breath away.
Sherri stabbed a finger at one picture so it filled the screen, and I vaguely recognized the name of the actress who was tagged.
“See? Finn has made cakes for people who are Kardashian-adjacent!”
Finn’s cheeks darkened and his gaze flicked between the screen and Sherri. “How did you even find that?”
She smiled sweetly. “You’re new in town, hon. Of course I’m going to stalk your socials.”
Finn gave a resigned sigh. “Is this where I find out there are no secrets in Sugar Hollow?”
“’Fraid so, hon.” Sherri snagged another cookie, then turned her attention back to me. “It looks like you might have to fight for your crown this year, King Cameron!”
Finn gave a teasing smile at that. “I’ll look forward to seeing what you can do, then. May the best man win!”
Someone with more social skills than a potato would have smiled and laughed it off, or maybe said they were looking forward to the challenge, or told him to take his best shot, or a hundred other fun and flirty things.
But me? If there had been a Sugar Hollow Socially Inept Award, I would have won it for every one of my twenty-seven years.
So instead of playing it cool, I panicked and blurted out, “He’s a professional! He can’t enter!”
Wow. Overreacting much, Cam?
They both stared at me, and Sherri’s brow creased. “You know, I don’t think that’s right,” she said slowly. “Ava Harris always enters, and she owns the bakery in town!”
“Yes, but Ava Harris isn’t as good as he is!”
Holy shit, my mouth was just running its own little party today, wasn’t it? And to make matters worse, Finn’s face was doing something complicated that made me suspect he was barely holding back his laughter.
And why wouldn’t he be laughing at my expense? Here he was, barely in town for five minutes and already churning out these exquisite cookies and making friends, and what was I doing? Clutching my pearls and panicking at the first sign of competition. Melting down over shortbread penguins.
I needed to get a grip.
“Kidding!” I said. “Everyone’s welcome to enter! The more the merrier!” I let out a shaky laugh and plastered on a grin that was as false as Dolly Parton’s eyelashes.
“Well, that’s good then,” Sherri said brightly.
She reached out and took another cookie.
“Are you taking part in the bake sale, Finn?” she asked.
“Because these would sell out in a hot minute.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she took a bite and she made that noise again, the one that made me feel like I was intruding on her special alone time.
“Oh, I definitely am,” Finn said. “I’m planning to bake all the favorites.”
“Well, there’s no need to make gingerbread,” I found myself saying. “I’ve got that covered.”
Wow. Since I couldn’t seem to shut my mouth, maybe I should try for this year’s award for Territorial Asshole as well.
Finn didn’t seem offended, though. Instead he raised his eyebrows and gave me a teasing smile.
“Noted.” Then he held the plate out to me in silent offering.
I took another cookie, one with red and white swirls and a marbled finish this time, and bit into the crisp, buttery sweetness.
It was just as good as the last one—possibly even better.
Sherri reached out and eased the cookies out of Finn’s grasp, like she thought I was planning to go back for a third helping. “I’ll put these in the break room for everyone to share.”
She disappeared through the door that led to the offices, leaving me standing alone with Finn.
Now would have been a good time to leave, but then I’d look even more rude than I already did, and the last thing I wanted was Sherri telling half the town I had beef with the new guy.
So instead I stood there awkwardly and I waited for him to go.
But he made no move to leave, and after what seemed like an eternity but was probably thirty seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. “So, you’re a baker?”
“Was. I work at the sawmill now.” The corners of his mouth tightened and his shoulders hiked up around his ears at the question. I wondered briefly what had happened to cause that reaction, but even my socially inept ass could tell he didn’t want to discuss it.
So I said, “Working with lumber sounds interesting, but I don’t have the muscle for it.” I gestured down at my short, skinny self.
He stared at me for a second then looked me up and down, and some of the tension left his frame. “Well, you’re a specialist lumberjack, that’s all.”
“I—what?” I had no clue what he meant, but it felt like he was poking fun at me, and I didn’t like it. “I’m the furthest thing from a lumberjack. I’m more of a human toothpick.”
Finn shrugged. “Well, books are made of paper, right? And paper is just a tree with a fancy haircut. So, lumberjack. I bet you’d look great in flannel.” His eyes danced, and I wasn’t sure, but it felt like he might actually be flirting with me.
Not that I wanted him to flirt with me.
But he was watching me expectantly, so I said the first thing that popped into my head—because that had worked so well for me so far today, right? “I don’t wear flannel.”
Finn blinked, and I was saved from embarrassing myself further when Sherri came bustling back out. Her gaze flicked between us and she got a gleam in her eye that I was all too familiar with, right before she said, “Finn, are you single?”
Finn blinked again. “Yes?”
“No little lady waiting back in the city?” she persisted, and oh no.
I knew where this was going. Sherri had made it her mission to find me a boyfriend, no matter how many times I’d told her I wasn’t interested, and Finn was obviously her latest candidate.
This was her way of finding out if he was gay and single, which were literally her only criteria for shoving someone in my direction.
But Finn didn’t know that. “No lady at all,” he said with a rueful smile, “little or otherwise. No lovely lad either, more’s the pity.”
Sherri’s eyes lit up. “Well, fancy that, both of you are single,” she said, looking expectantly between us. The and gay went without saying.
Finn’s eyebrow rose and he shot me a panicked look.
“Sherri,” I said with a sigh, “you have to stop trying to find me a boyfriend, okay? Just because Finn and I are gay, that doesn’t mean we’re automatically interested in each other. This isn’t some cheesy Hallmark Christmas rom-com.”
“But if it was,” Finn said, “I’d be the discontented big city guy looking for meaning in his life, and you’d be the handsome local who melts my stony heart with a single kiss.”
The corners of my mouth quirked up despite myself because yeah, Finn was funny.
He returned my smile, and we exchanged an amused look. I took the chance to wrap my scarf around my neck and duck out into the street before Sherri could launch another matchmaking attempt.
Because no matter what Sherri thought, Finn Kelly was my rival. This wasn’t a rom-com, I was no handsome local, and there would be no kissing happening between us.
None.