Page 43 of Working For Her Sweet Treats

I turn toward the door. The hinge squeaks when I open it. For the first time since walking into Sweet Treats, I do not look up.

Outside, the street is empty and quiet. I stand beside my truck with my keys in my hand, replaying the conversation.

I told myself I was protecting her. To me, the inspection is practical, harmless, and necessary. I never asked what it would cost her to discover that I had ignored her answer.

My phone buzzes before I climb into the truck. The electrician confirms my cancellation request. I stare through the bakery window.

Ava is still behind the counter, but she has turned away from me. I know how to restore things after they have been damaged. But maybe not this time. The worst part is that I’m the one who caused this.

Chapter 11

Ava

At 6:02 the next morning, the bell over the front door does not ring. I know the exact time because I am watching the clock while pretending to inventory muffin boxes. 6:03 passes. Then 6:05.

No muddy boots cross my floor. No broad-shouldered man orders maple-cinnamon coffee as though he has not ordered the same thing every morning this week. No one studies the pastry case with excessive seriousness before claiming he is conducting research.

I wanted Jake to leave me alone. I did not expect him to be so good at it.

The bakery is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerators and the soft music playing from the speaker near the sink. Outside, Forge Creek is beginning to wake. Even on Saturday,work trucks pass the front windows. Men in reflective vests head toward nearby job sites carrying travel mugs and hard hats.

None of the trucks belong to Jake.

I turn away from the window and begin arranging the caramel apple muffins scheduled for the first delivery. They sit in neat rows inside white bakery boxes, each one golden, streusel-topped, and drizzled with just enough caramel to catch the light.

Everything is on schedule. I am capable of doing this without him. My phone vibrates beside the register. For one unreasonable second, I hope it is Jake. It is an email.

ELECTRICAL INSPECTION CANCELED

I open it and find a second message beneath the confirmation.

The appointment has been canceled. I’m sorry I arranged it without your permission. I attached the electrician’s information in case you decide to contact him later. No response needed.

Jake

That is all. No explanation. No reminder that he believes the wiring is dangerous. No request to talk. He is giving me exactly what I asked for and … it feels terrible.

I put the phone face down and return to the muffins. Loralee arrives five minutes later wearing a loose purple cardigan and carrying two coffees.

“I brought you pumpkin spice,” she says.

“I have coffee.”

“You made that coffee while emotionally compromised.”

I take the cup she offers. “Coffee does not absorb emotions, but thank you.”

She ties on her apron and looks around the bakery.

“Where’s Jake?”

“Not here.”

“I noticed.”

I begin checking labels on the first group of boxes. Loralee waits. I make it through four boxes before her silence becomes more irritating than her questions.

“He scheduled an electrical inspection without asking me,” I say.