Chapter 3
Hannah
Hannah hummed along with the radio as she pulled a tray of Jake's favorite cinnamon rolls from the oven. The morning sun painted Sugar & Spice golden, and the whole kitchen smelled like butter and spice and possibility.
"You're chipper this morning." Sarah looked up from where she was crimping pie crusts, flour dusting her dark hair. "That wouldn't have anything to do with a certain handyman, would it?"
Heat crept up Hannah's neck. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Uh huh." Sarah's knowing smirk said otherwise. "That's why you're making his favorite breakfast."
"Everyone loves cinnamon rolls." Hannah busied herself with the frosting, trying to hide her smile. "They're a good seller."
"Right. Very fiscally minded of you."
Hannah flicked flour at her, laughing. Everything felt perfect this morning—the warmth of the ovens, the familiar rhythm of their prep work, the way her heart still fluttered when she thought about last night.
The bell above the door chimed.
"We're not open!" She called out.
"Not even for the guy who fixes your sink?" Jake's voice carried from the front of the shop, followed by his footsteps.
Hannah's heart did that little skip it always did when she heard him. But when she turned, spatula loaded with frosting, something in his expression made her pause.
"Hey." She tried to read his face. "You okay?"
"Fine." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just tired. Early meeting with a client about the Miller Street restoration."
Right. Her father's latest project. "The inn's going to be beautiful when it's finished. Dad was telling me about the original woodwork they uncovered. Maybe we could go see it once they've completed the flooring?"
Jake's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she might have missed it.
"Sure." He reached for one of the unfrosted rolls. "If I'm not too busy with work."
"Too busy for Hannah?" Sarah snorted. "That'll be the day."
Something flickered behind Jake's eyes—there and gone so fast Hannah couldn't name it. He took a bite of the roll, deliberate, too casual. "These are perfect."
"They're not done yet." Hannah moved to daub frosting onto the one in his hand, but Jake caught her wrist, tugging her closer.
"You're perfect," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
But there was something in his voice, something that felt almost like—
"I should go." He stepped back, already reaching for his keys. "That meeting."
"But you just got here." The words slipped out before she could stop them. "And you didn't even let me frost your roll."
Jake paused at the kitchen door. He gave her another smile. "Save me one for later?"
Hannah nodded, watching him go. The bell chimed again, and she tried to shake off the strange hollow feeling in her chest.
"Okay, what was that about?" Sarah asked, abandoning her pie crusts.
"Not sure." Hannah turned back to her frosting, but her hands weren't quite steady. "I guess he's busy."
But Jake was always busy. That wasn't new. This feeling—this distance—this was something else.
She just wished she knew what.
Hannah loved Sundays at Sugar & Spice. The bakery closed early, but the warmth of the ovens lingered, wrapping around her like a familiar embrace.
Evening light slanted through the front windows, painting the worn wooden floors golden as she spread the week's receipts across her grandmother's old desk.
"Looks like the new chocolate croissant recipe was a hit.
" Her father's voice carried from the kitchen, where he was brewing their ritual evening coffee.
Richard Everett moved through her space with the easy familiarity of someone who'd spent countless hours here, first watching his mother-in-law bake, then teaching Hannah everything she knew about running a business. "The profit margins are impressive."
"People love anything with chocolate," Hannah said, sorting another stack of receipts into neat piles. "Though I think it's more about Tommy Mercer talking them up to everyone he speaks to. That kid's better advertising than any marketing budget."
Her father appeared with two steaming mugs, setting one by her elbow.
The rich aroma of his special coffee blend—the one he saved just for their Sunday meetings—filled the air.
"Speaking of marketing budgets..." He pulled out the chair across from her, his silver hair catching the fading light.
"Have you thought more about expanding? The Miller Street renovation is coming along beautifully. Perfect spot for a second location."
Hannah wrapped her hands around the warm mug, breathing in the familiar scent.
"Dad, we've talked about this. Sugar & Spice isn't meant to be a chain.
It's about community. Tradition." She gestured to the walls around them, to the copper wind chimes her mother had hung, to the ancient wood-burning oven her grandmother had refused to replace. "You can't duplicate this."
"You sound just like your grandmother." His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled—the same way Hannah's did. "She was afraid of change too."
"I'm not afraid of change." Hannah shuffled through more receipts, pleased by the steady increase in numbers. "I just don't want to lose what makes this place special."
The bell above the door chimed.
Hannah looked up, her heart doing that familiar skip when she saw Jake filling the doorway. He was still in his work clothes, tool belt slung low on his hips, a smudge of something dark on his jaw. Their eyes met, and for a moment, she forgot her father was there.
"Jake!" Richard stood, gesturing him inside. "Perfect timing. Maybe you can talk some sense into my stubborn daughter."
Jake's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he stepped into the warm circle of light around Hannah's desk. "About what?"
"The Miller Street space." Richard pulled out another chair. "Tell her it's perfect for a second location. All that foot traffic from the renovated inn, the historic charm—it's ideal."
Hannah watched Jake's jaw tighten for a fraction of a second before he relaxed into an easy smile. "You know I don't get between Everetts and their business decisions." He settled his large frame into the chair, his knee brushing Hannah's under the desk.
Pride bloomed in Hannah's chest. She'd grown up watching her father breathe life back into Crystal Lake's historic buildings, preserving the town's charm while helping other small business owners thrive.
The way he looked at old spaces—seeing possibility where others saw decay—had shaped her entire worldview.
"The inn's going to be spectacular," Richard said, leaning back in his chair.
"You should see the original woodwork we uncovered.
Nineteenth-century craftsmanship you can't replicate.
Speaking of which—" He pulled a folder from his briefcase.
"Hannah, I need you to sign these. Just some routine maintenance paperwork for the bakery.
Might as well handle it while we're all here. "
Hannah barely glanced at the documents as she signed, trusting her father the way she always had. The way everyone in Crystal Lake trusted Richard Everett.
"You're a good girl." Richard's voice was warm as he tucked the papers away. "Now, who wants to hear about the secret spaces we found behind the inn's walls? The history in that building..."
Hannah settled back in her chair, letting her father's voice wash over her. Jake's hand found her knee under the desk, his fingers tangling with hers. She squeezed back, grateful for this moment—for her father's passion, for Jake's steady presence, for the perfect life they were building together.
She leaned into Jake's warmth, breathed in the lingering scent of coffee and cinnamon, and felt utterly, completely safe.
Evening wrapped around Crystal Lake like a warm blanket, strings of lights twinkling in the trees along Main Street.
They'd had dinner together and now Hannah's fingers were laced through Jake's as they walked back toward Sugar & Spice, towards her cozy apartment above the bakery.
His grip felt different tonight. Tighter. Like he was afraid she'd slip away.
"Hannah Elizabeth Everett!" Mrs. Wilson called from her perch on the hardware store's front bench. She'd been holding court there every evening for as long as Hannah could remember. "Those scones you sent over this morning saved my bridge club."
Hannah smiled, tugging Jake to a stop. "The raspberry ones? I tried a new recipe."
"Perfect, as always." Mrs. Wilson's sharp eyes moved to Jake. "You're a lucky man, Jake Cooper. Half the boys in town tried to catch our Hannah's eye before you showed up."
Jake's fingers twitched against Hannah's. "I know."
Something in his voice made her chest tight.
They'd only gone a few steps when Billy, the teenager who helped stock at Morton's Grocery, jogged over with a paper bag. "Mom wanted me to catch you before you closed up. She said these bananas were too old to sell, but would be perfect for you."
"Billy, you're a gem." Hannah took the bag, breathing in the sweet scent.
Three more stops, three more conversations. Mrs. Harrison from the pharmacy asking about her father's restoration projects. Old Joe Murphy telling Jake about a loose shutter at the senior center that needed fixing. Mina Davis making her promise to help with next month's founder's day celebration.
Through it all, Jake stood beside her, his fingers laced with hers, grounding her in that steady, familiar way.
"You're quiet tonight," she said as they approached the bakery. The old brick building rose above them, warm light spilling from her apartment windows. Home.
"Just thinking." Jake's thumb traced circles on her palm, but he wouldn't quite meet her eyes.
"About?"
"Nothing important."