Chapter 3 #2
“Morning, ladies,” Rhett calls out. “Heard we’ve got ourselves a little electrical monster to slay.”
Evie exhales a sound somewhere between awe and agony. “Oh great. More men who fix things. My heart can’t take it.”
Rhett looks at her like she’s an exotic bird that may or may not bite. “Uh… thanks?”
Hayes shakes his head. “Ignore her.”
“Ignore me?” Evie gasps. “I am the victim here!”
“No one here is a victim,” I say.
“I WAS,” she insists. “I walked into a half-burned kitchen! Do you know how traumatic that is? Especially before coffee?”
Hayes holds up a cup, offering it to Rhett. “Speaking of…”
Rhett takes the coffee and leans a little closer to me. “Is she always like this?”
“Only when she’s awake,” I whisper.
“I HEARD THAT,” Evie calls.
Hayes chuckles and my heart beats in overtime. I shouldn’t like hearing him laugh this much. I shouldn’t crave it like warmth on a cold morning.
He directs Rhett to the damaged outlet. The stretch of his jacket pulls across his shoulders, and I immediately redirect my eyes because I am a grown woman, not a teenager with a crush on the firefighter next door.
“How bad is it?” I ask, hovering behind them.
Rhett glances over his shoulder. “Not the worst thing I’ve seen. Outlet’s fried, wiring’s old.”
“But we’ll replace the whole run,” Hayes adds.
“We?” I echo.
“Mm-hm.” His gaze flicks to Rhett, then back to me. “I told you—we’ve got it handled.”
My heart stutters.
Evie mutters behind me, “Uh-huh. Sure. Just wiring.”
“Evie!” My voice hits exactly the embarrassed pitch she wanted. She beams.
Hayes pretends he didn’t hear—but the tips of his ears go pink. Traitorous ears.
Rhett clears his throat. “Hayes, you want me to kill the power?”
He pauses and turns around to look at me and Evie. “There’s really nothing you’ll be able to do here today. We need to shut the power off for a bit. Why don’t you two clear out and I’ll let you know when things are back up and running?”
“I-I-I can’t! I’ve got orders that I need to work on!”
“Newsflash, Smokey, you’re not going to be able to do that here.” Evie rolls her eyes at me. “The whole place is going to have to be deep-cleaned before we can reopen or work behind the scenes.”
Hayes winces and nods. “She’s right.”
And that’s the moment it hits me. Heavy, suffocating, crawling up my throat.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I am not going to cry.
I can’t let my customers down. They’re all counting on me for their holiday pastry orders.
Mrs. Henderson needs her almond tarts. The middle school fundraiser needs four dozen cinnamon rolls.
The entire town is depending on me for their Christmas sugar fix.
The pressure settles like a weight on my sternum.
Hayes crosses the room in two seconds flat. His hands go to my shoulders, grounding me—and I swear the whole world tilts back into place.
“Hey, look at me.”
I glance up and see the compassion in his eyes. Not pity. Not frustration. Just that steady, unwavering softness he only ever uses with me. The kind that makes me feel like someone has their hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the chaos.
“I called in a favor,” he says gently. “I know my kitchen or the kitchen at the firehouse aren’t going to cut it, so I was able to book the kitchen at the community center for you.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Trolls key ring with a single key on it.
For a second, I can’t breathe. Then, laughter bubbles in my chest. “You still have this thing?” I reach up and run my fingers over the ‘lucky’ troll with green hair.
The plastic is worn smooth from years of being carried around.
I gave him that keychain for good luck right before he applied to the fire academy—before either of us were old enough to understand how much that little moment meant.
Hayes gives me a boyish, lopsided grin—the one I used to collect like a treasure. “Carry it with me every day. Figured you could use a little luck now, though.”
That’s so typical of Hayes. Thoughtful without being showy. Loyal without question. Still, another brick in the wall around my heart crumbles, sliding quietly to the floor between us.
“I just put a post up on social media letting everyone know we’ll be closed for repairs for a little bit,” Evie chimes in, breaking the moment with her whirlwind energy. She claps her hands once. “Round up whatever you need, Betty Crocker. Looks like I’m spending the day as your assistant baker.”
I blink, torn between gratitude and overwhelming relief. “Evie… you don’t have to—”
“Too late,” she says, already gathering up my favorite mixing bowls and marching toward the back to grab my tote bag. “I’ve committed. I’m invested. I am one bad hairnet away from being a Food Network star.”
Hayes huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching. “She’s not wrong. You two can get settled at the center while we get this mess sorted. I’ll keep you updated.”
There’s something final and reassuring in his words. It’s abundantly clear that he’s already decided he won’t let me face any of this alone.