Still, his persistence made Bri nervous. So far Mabel and Agnes weren’t taking his offers seriously, but she recognized that determinedness in his eyes. It was the same characteristic that helped him pass the bar. She just didn’t know why he was so obsessed with the Pastry Puff. Why not use any of the buildings for sale farther down the street for his next venture? There were two perfectly good properties closer to Johnson’s General.
Casey shrugged. “Besides, you didn’t ruin anything. The reporter probably thought it was funny.”
Hmm. Gerard had smiled when he saluted her. But that was probably because of her shocked response. What had she even said to him afterward? She moaned as she remembered. “Casey, I rambled to him about pencil skirts. Trust me. It’s ruined.”
The pretty brunette tossed her head back and laughed. “Classic.” Gone were the bags under her eyes, which Casey attributed to a new concealer, but Bri knew the truth. Now she had help—and someone to love her. What girl wouldn’t be smiling about that?
“Do you care?” Casey eased forward, eyebrows furrowing together and a half smile playing on her lips.
Bri frowned. “Of course I care. This is the bakery’s one big chance and I ruined—”
Casey waved her hand. “Not because of the bakery, silly. I’m sensing there might be a little bit of embarrassment for other reasons. You know. Personal ones.” Her eyebrows wiggled up and down now in a suggestive dance.
Heat cloaked Bri’s chest. “Hardly.”
“Oh, come on. I googled him. He’s not exactly hard to look at. You’re single . . . and he’s got to be, with a personality like the one you’ve described.” Casey’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned.
The heat cranked up a notch, and she tugged at the neckline of her shirt to cover it. “Definitely none of that.”
Casey sighed. “Whatever. Listen, regardless, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. You worry too much. And trust me, I’m an expert at worry, so I recognize it a mile away.” She crumpled her napkin into a ball, then pointed at Bri. “Nathan’s helped me chill a lot. Now I’m going to help you.”
“Do you have a pill for that or something?” Bri was kidding. Sort of.
“Better.” Casey winked. “It’s called love. I’m going to help Mabel and Agnes set you up.”
Oh no. She’d drunk the Kool-Aid. Panic flared. “I just said Gerard—”
“It doesn’t have to be him.” Casey shrugged. “Just, you know. Love in general.”
Bri shook her head. “I’ll have my turn one day, I’m sure. But for now, I’ve got bigger cakes to bake. Like saving the Puff.” She forced a smile that hopefully looked cheerier than she felt. “Besides, I’m sort of picky, and you just snatched up the last decent man in Story.”
“No way! There are some great guys at the fire department.” Casey tilted her head, rolling in her bottom lip. “Well, two. Okay, one, because the other guy is dating that girl in Missouri now. But the one left is pretty great!”
“If he’s single and breathing, it’s already been attempted around here, trust me.” Bri straightened and moved away from the display before she was tempted to take another petit four out of the case. The last thing she needed right now was to stress eat. “Some things can’t be forced.”
“I understand. But if you change your mind . . .” Casey’s voice trailed off as she stood and threw away her trash. “Come to the station and ask for Kyle.”
“Sure. Tell Nathan I said hey.” Bri waved as her friend headed to the door, appreciating her good intentions but knowing she’d never contact Kyle. She was sure he was a perfectly nice guy, but she hadn’t waited around this long for nice. She was waiting for a prince. Charles had been nice, and Charles was no prince.
There was a difference. She wanted a love like her parents’. A love that stood the test of time. A love to write home about—literally, as the letters in her mom’s trunk demonstrated.
The bakery door swung open from the outside just as Casey pushed against it.
Speaking of non-princes.
Bri straightened as Gerard stepped back on the sidewalk, allowing Casey sufficient room to exit. His averted gaze as he held the door gave Bri the opportunity to reluctantly notice two things: one, his firm jawline, still stubbled over, and two, the wide eyes and “wow” Casey mouthed behind her hand to Bri.
Bri widened hers back at Casey in warning just as Gerard stepped inside. Casey plastered herself against the door behind him, pointing and wiggling her eyebrows again.
Bri attempted to wave Casey away, just as Gerard looked up and made eye contact. She quickly patted her hair, as if she’d been fixing it the entire time. “Welcome back.” She wasn’t going to stop and evaluate why she suddenly felt out of breath. Probably just from the looming embarrassment of Casey’s antics.
Surely not because of the way Gerard strode purposefully toward her, still clad in that leather jacket and those distressed jeans.
“Before you even ask, no petit fours. Just coffee.” He leaned against the glass countertop that Bri had just vacated.
She hadn’t intended to ask. Why waste a perfectly good petit four on someone so grumpy? “Coming right up.” Funny how the moment he opened his mouth, it became much easier to breathe normally.
She had to be nice now, though. No more barbs or sarcastic impulses. She had to remember this was their feature writer, not just a jerk with a chip on his shoulder. This was someone to impress—for a good cause.
She couldn’t let Charles have the bakery. Now, or ever.
Gerard rapped his knuckles lightly on the display as she reached for a mug. “Your town sure likes its sweets.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Who didn’t love fresh-baked desserts? It sounded like he was already tired of them. But wait. That could only mean one thing. “Let me guess. You’re staying at the Gingerbread House?”
His eyebrow rose. “You mean there’s another
