Chapter 5
FIVE
ELIZABETH
My lips are still tingling.
I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath since Tyler kissed me.
Somewhere along the way we’d forgotten where we were, forgotten the clock on the wall, forgotten the trays of cooling pastries surrounding us.
Forgotten everything except each other.
Now we’re standing several feet apart, trying to look like two perfectly professional adults while someone pounds on the back door.
Tyler runs a hand through his hair and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Of course.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
He catches me anyway. “What?”
“You look flustered.”
“I am flustered.”
“I noticed.”
“You were there.”
“I was.”
A grin threatens the corner of his mouth. “I remember.”
Another knock echoes through the bakery. He sighs dramatically.
“I guess I’d better answer that.”
When he unlocks the back door, an older man in faded jeans and a green apron practically tumbles inside.
“Tyler.” His voice is strained. “I need a miracle.”
Tyler’s easy smile disappears. “What’s wrong, Frank?”
The older gentleman removes his baseball cap and scrubs a hand over his silver hair.
The man notices me for the first time.
“Oh.” He points awkwardly between us. “I didn’t realize...”
“It’s okay,” Tyler says. “What’s going on?”
Frank lets out a long breath. “I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“That bad?”
“My daughter’s getting married next Saturday.”
Tyler nods slowly. “I know.”
“She asked me to order a cake months ago, and… I forgot.”
Silence.
Frank winces. “I know.”
Tyler blinks once. “...Frank.”
“I know. But I’ve had the flowers handled for six months.”
“You own a flower shop.”
“I know.”
“The one three doors down.”
“I know.”
“And somehow...”
“I know!”
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
Frank throws both hands into the air. “I’ve been so busy helping everyone else’s weddings that I completely forgot my own daughter’s.”
His face crumples just enough to make my heart ache.
“I’ve called every bakery in town.”
It’s impossible to miss Tyler’s frown. “And?”
“They can do it. For triple the price.”
Tyler let’s out a low whistle. “Ouch.”
“They all say it’s because it’s last minute.”
“They’re not wrong.”
“I can’t afford it.” The words come out quietly. “I’ve already stretched the budget everything else.”
Tyler rubs the back of his neck. “I wish I could help.”
Frank’s shoulders slump.
“But I’m not set up for wedding cakes. I’m not even sure I could get all of the supplies on a week’s notice. But...”
Frank looks up.
“What if we don’t do a cake?” Tyler is already thinking out loud. “What if we build a dessert wall instead?”
Frank blinks. “A what?”
“We do mini pastries. Individual desserts.”
Tyler grabs a marker and starts sketching on the back of a bakery box.
“Brown butter tarts.” He writes. “Mini cheesecakes. Lemon bars. Chocolate pots de crème. Cannoli.”
My eyes widen.
He’s barely pausing to breathe. “Hell, even some donuts and hand pies.”
Tyler points to the sketch. “We’ll stack them at different heights.”
He keeps drawing. “It’ll look intentional. Elegant.”
Another.
“And your guests get options instead of waiting for cake to be cut.”
Frank stares at the drawing. Then at Tyler. “You’d do that?”
“For you?” Tyler shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “Sure.”
“Can you take all that on?”
“I’ll make it work.”
“You already have that huge concert order.”
“I’ll sleep next week.”
Frank’s eyes glisten. “You’d really save me?”
Tyler gives him a lopsided smile. “I’d rather save your daughter from murdering you.”
Frank laughs. “She probably still will.”
“But at least she’ll have donuts and pie.”
Frank pulls Tyler into a quick hug before Tyler can object. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You’ve always been a good kid.”
“I’ve been thirty-seven for a while now.”
“You’ll always be a kid.”
Frank pats his shoulder once more.
“I’ll send my daughter over tomorrow.”
“I’ll have ideas ready.”
The bell jingles as Frank disappears back into the night. The bakery grows quiet again.
Tyler stares at the closed door for a second before turning around.
“What?”
I hadn’t realized I was smiling. “You’re kind.”
He snorts.
“I literally watched you volunteer yourself into more work.”
“I know.”
“You’ve already got that concert order.”
“I know.”
“You just gave yourself another huge project.”
He shrugs one shoulder.
“He looked worried. So you fixed it.”
He points at me. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying...” I take a step closer. “...you’re a lot kinder than you pretend to be.”
“I’m not pretending to be anything.”
“I think you are.”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t like people making a fuss over me.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I close the distance between us. “But now I know you’re secretly a softie.”
“I’m not.”
“You rescue frantic fathers.”
“I solved a logistics problem.”
“You gave away a week of sleep.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You care.”
“I...” He stops.
I grin. “Exactly.”
He lets out a defeated laugh. “I liked you better when you thought I was a jerk.”
“I never actually thought you were a jerk.”
“No?”
“I thought you were interesting.”
His smile fades into something gentler. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then he reaches up and brushes a loose curl behind my ear. “Think we can finish what we started?”
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
He cups my cheek, giving me every chance to pull away. Instead, I rise onto my toes and kiss him first.
He makes a soft sound against my lips that feels suspiciously like surprise before kissing me back.
This second kiss is different.
It’s less searching and more intense.
His free hand settles carefully at my waist, drawing me closer until I can feel a prominent bulge through our clothes. I rest my hands against his chest, smiling into the kiss when I feel his heartbeat racing every bit as fast as mine.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You’re making it very hard to remember I’m supposed to be working.”
“You have a terrible attention span.”
“Only around you.”
Laughing, I hop onto the sturdy stainless-steel counter he’d cleared earlier, bringing us eye to eye.
He steps between my knees, one hand braced lightly beside me while the other stays respectfully at my waist.
The kiss that follows is warm, lingering, and completely capable of making me forget my own name.
A familiar voice cuts through the bakery. “Well, well, well.”
Tyler freezes and winces.
I slowly open my eyes.
His sister is standing in the doorway with her purse over one shoulder, looking far too amused.
“...I’d say your date is going better than you thought it would.”
Tyler closes his eyes. “I really need to remember to turn off the lights and lock the door.”
“Too late.” She grins and holds out her hand to me. “I’m Rachel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”