Chapter 2
Charlotte
I am halfway down Main Street when that little flip hits my stomach again. It turns up every time I think about the bakery, which is happening often enough that I should probably be concerned. I have been in Valentine for two days now and somehow I’m acting like I’ve been here for a lot longer.
It’s not the pastries doing it. It’s the man behind the counter. And maybe the kid who watched me like she was deciding whether she approved.
People are already out, heading to work or opening their shops. It’s early, usually I’m still waking up and adjusting to the morning, but since I’m here, I’m up early and getting started with my day before the sun comes up.
The door’s cracked open when I walk up, warm air drifting out and immediately convincing me that eight in the morning is a perfectly acceptable time for dessert.
The second I step inside, Maisie spots me from her table.
Her entire face lights up. “You came back!” Her voice is loud enough to echo off the walls.
“Of course I came back,” I say. “Do you think I would skip the best cookies in town?”
She gives a tiny shrug, almost shy. Like she genuinely didn’t know whether I meant it yesterday. There’s something about this little girl that makes my heart warm in a way I never knew it could.
Then I see him.
Liam is behind the counter, organizing the display case with the same calm focus he had yesterday.
There is something steady about him, something warm that he tries to hide but does a terrible job of disguising.
His gaze meets mine and I see that small shift in his expression again.
“Morning,” he says, his voice low and even.
“Morning,” I answer, trying not to let my eyes linger on him longer than they should.
“You’re early,” he says.
“So are you.”
“I run a bakery.”
“I run a festival.”
He gives me a look like I’m trouble he didn’t plan for but also doesn’t mind having around. The corner of his mouth lifts before he can stop it.
And that right there is why I am back, not for the job, not for the town, and not the festival. But for him. And, yes, for his daughter, but mostly him.
I step closer to the counter and lean on the edge. “I have something important for you.”
He looks suspicious already. “What is it?”
“Today’s cupcake pun.”
He closes his eyes like he is begging the universe for strength. “Charlotte.”
Maisie gasps and claps her hands together. “Yes!”
I clear my throat, enjoying the moment way too much. “Why did the cupcake go to therapy?”
Liam looks like he wants to stop me but knows he cannot. “I don’t want to know.”
“Because it felt crumby.”
Maisie snorts and nearly falls out of her chair from the force of her laugh.
Liam stares at me, completely silent.
Then he breaks.
A small, reluctant smile pulls across his mouth. The minute he smiles, heat curls low in my stomach. God, it’s a beautiful smile.
“That was terrible,” he says.
“But you smiled,” I remind him.
“I regret it.”
“You’re welcome.”
He turns away like he needs a second to recover. I should probably let him have it, but I am too busy watching the way his smile slowly fades while he tries to get himself back under control.
Mark walks by with a tray of bread dough and gives a wave. “Charlotte, welcome back. Do you have a dough pun today?”
“Do not encourage her,” Liam tells him.
“I’m encouraging everyone,” Mark says before disappearing into the kitchen.
I turn back to Liam. “I need a few minutes to go over the updated tasting plan. Mind if I grab a table?”
“Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll get a coffee started for you.”
I blink. “Thanks.”
“It is for morale,” he says.
Right. Morale. And here I was thinking he was just being thoughtful.
He heads toward the espresso machine. I take a seat, and before I settle in, Maisie climbs into the chair across from me.
“Can I help?” she asks.
“Of course you can,” I tell her.
Liam’s head lifts the moment he hears that. “Define help,” he says.
“I will supervise,” I promise him.
He looks unconvinced but does not argue. He brings my coffee over a minute later, and when he sets it down, our fingers brush. It’s a quick touch, barely there, but it sends a warm little spark up my arm that I feel in places that have no business reacting.
“Thank you,” I say, quieter than I intend.
He nods and steps back like he needs the distance.
Maisie watches him go, then leans close to me. “Daddy likes you.”
I freeze. “Oh?”
She nods with full confidence. “He looks at you different.”
My voice drops. “Different how?”
She thinks about it seriously, then says. “Like when he looks at pancakes.”
I snort coffee up my nose. “Pancakes?”
She nods again. “He really likes pancakes.”
I laugh and wipe my mouth. Following the logic of a six-year-old is like stepping into an alternate universe. I love it.
“Well,” I say. “Your dad is very nice.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “He’s the best.”
And just like that, my chest squeezes again.
I start going over the basics of the tasting plan, keeping it simple so Maisie feels included. She sits across from me, swinging her legs and drawing while I talk, but she still jumps in every few minutes with a new idea.
“Will there be balloons?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Maybe,” I say. “Do you think we need balloons?”
“Yes, for happiness.”
“That’s a good reason.”
She goes back to coloring, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. A moment later she looks up again. “What about sparkles on the cookies?”
I try not to laugh. “Sparkles sound amazing.”
“Daddy doesn’t like sparkles.”
“I never said that,” Liam says as he walks over, drying his hands on a towel. He raises an eyebrow at her. “I said sparkles get everywhere.”
“That means you don’t like them,” Maisie says confidently.
He sighs like this is a familiar argument.
I grin. “I think sparkles could be fun.”
Maisie beams at me like I’ve just solved world peace. “See, Daddy?”
Liam gives her a look that is supposed to be stern but mostly turns into him trying not to smile. “Charlotte is being polite.”
“I am being honest,” I say.
He meets my eyes, and there’s a spark there that wasn’t there a moment ago.
Maisie taps her crayon on the table. “Can everyone get a cookie? So they feel good inside?”
My heart kicks. “That might be my favorite idea yet.”
Liam sits on the edge of the counter beside us, pretending he’s not listening closely. “Cookies for feelings,” he repeats. “That’s a new business model.”
“It would work,” Maisie says.
“It might,” I add.
He shakes his head, but there’s warmth in his expression. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”
Maisie giggles, and the sound fills the room in a way that makes everything feel lighter.
I go back to outlining the simple parts of the plan, and she keeps tossing in comments that have nothing to do with logistics but somehow make the whole conversation better.
Liam chimes in now and then, mostly to correct something or add context, but he never shuts her down.
He lets her be six. He lets her be involved. And he lets me sit here and enjoy it.
I don’t know what I expected coming into this bakery, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t how easy this feels, nor was it how natural it is to talk to both of them at once.
And when I glance up and catch Liam watching me, something warm settles over me, I’ve no idea why I feel this way when I’m around him.
I lean toward Maisie. “Is he always this focused?” I whisper.
“Always,” she replies giggling.
I laugh before I can hold it back, and that’s the moment Liam walks in. He catches the end of it and gives me a look that makes me laugh even harder.
“Are you making fun of me?” he asks.
“No,” I say, even though I absolutely am. “Never.”
He narrows his eyes with zero heat in the expression. “Sure.”
Maisie taps her crayon on the table. “It does talk, Daddy. It goes mmmmmpphhhnnn.”
“That is not talking,” he says. “That is malfunctioning.”
“Same thing,” she replies.
He sighs like he is a hundred years old.
I cover my smile with my coffee cup.
He studies me for a second. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yes.”
He narrows his eyes. “Coffee or cooperation?”
“A smile.”
He freezes.
Maisie whispers, “She got you, Daddy.”
His jaw flexes like he is trying very hard not to react, which makes the moment even sweeter.
Then he smiles.
A real one this time, slow, warm, and a little crooked on one side.
And it hits me harder than it should. Hard enough that I look away before I say something embarrassing.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You asked for it.”
“True.”
He clears his throat and turns back to the counter as if reminding himself this is a public place.
Maisie tugs on my sleeve again. “I like your hair,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I think Daddy likes your hair too.”
Liam drops a muffin.
It lands softly, but the way he freezes makes the whole room feel louder.
“Oops,” Maisie says, very unhelpfully.
Liam closes his eyes like he is bargaining with the universe.
I try very hard not to laugh. “It’s alright,” I tell him.
“It is not alright,” he says, grabbing the fallen muffin. “This was part of the display.”
“It lived a good life,” I answer trying not to laugh.
He stares at me like I am testing him on purpose.
I am. I absolutely am.
He walks toward the kitchen, and I catch myself watching him. The way he moves, the way he runs a hand through his hair, the quick look back like he’s checking on me.
There’s something building between us, it’s slow but steady, and I can feel it settling in. I don’t know how this will work out but being here with him and this sweet kid who’s already getting to me more than she should… it feels like the start of something.
For him, for me, for all of us, and the thought doesn’t scare me, not even a little.