Page 2 of Working For Her Sweet Treats

“Is there an unclassic one?”

“Not yet.”

He studies the pan. “I’ll take two.”

“Two classic cinnamon rolls?”

“One is for somebody else.”

“Of course.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “You don’t believe me.”

“I have no reason not to believe you. You’re a complete stranger who entered my bakery and immediately lied about wiping his boots.”

That almost-smile appears again.

I turn toward the coffee station. “Regular coffee?”

“What else do you have?”

“Today’s flavored coffee is maple cinnamon.”

His eyebrows rise. A man does not order two cinnamon rolls before dawn because he has a restrained relationship with sugar.

“Maple cinnamon,” he says.

“Excellent choice.”

I fill a large paper cup and leave enough room for cream. When I turn back, he is leaning slightly toward the pastry case, studying the top shelf. I recognize opportunity when I see it.

“You should also try the muffin of the week.”

He looks at me instead of the muffins. “You’re trying to sell me more food.”

“I’m trying to enhance your first Sweet Treats experience.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“It’s a caramel apple muffin.”

His attention returns to the case. I lift one with a square of bakery tissue and place it on a small white plate. The muffin is golden brown, domed high above its paper liner, and topped with buttery streusel and a thin drizzle of caramel. Bits of apple peek through the soft crumb along one side.

His expression remains neutral, but his eyes give him away.

“Fresh apple,” I tell him. “Cinnamon, brown sugar, caramel, and a crisp streusel topping. Baked less than an hour ago.”

“You give everyone the full sales pitch?”

“Only the customers who need guidance.”

He folds his arms over his chest. His fitted charcoal T-shirt hasDALTONRESTORATION & CONSTRUCTION printed over one side, and the movement stretches the fabric across shoulders that do not appear to have been built by avoiding heavy objects.

“You decided I need guidance?”

“You came in asking for plain coffee.”

“I changed my order.”