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Her lips part.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then she rises onto her toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

“Goodnight, Gray.”

She steps away before I can respond.

I stand there like a goddamn statue while she disappears into the back room.

The bell above the door jingles when I finally leave.

Outside, the cold mountain air hits my face.

I climb onto my motorcycle and sit there for a long time, staring at the darkened bakery windows.

My cheek still burns where she kissed me.

Ten years.

Ten fucking years I’ve spent convincing myself I don’t deserve that woman.

And one afternoon with her has me wanting things I swore I’d never let myself want again.

Fuck me.

I’m in trouble.

Chapter 5

AUTUMN

There are few things more terrifying to a bakery owner than a broken oven, a health inspector, or discovering you’ve accidentally used salt instead of sugar in six dozen cinnamon rolls.

But a power outage during the busiest baking week of the year?

That’s a special kind of hell.

“Come on, you stupid bastard.” I flip the breaker for the third time, staring at the darkened kitchen of The Witching Hour.

Nothing.

Outside, thunder rattles the windows. Rain lashes the sidewalk, and the wind sends a plastic skeleton tumbling past the front door.

At least somebody’s having fun.

I check my phone.

The entire west side of Devil’s Peak is without power. Estimated restoration time: unknown.

Wonderful.

I have three refrigerators full of butter, cream, eggs, and enough perishable ingredients to bankrupt a small country. Tomorrow’s orders include a wedding cake, two hundred cupcakes, and enough pumpkin cheesecake to feed half the town.

And everything is slowly getting warmer.

“Fuck.”