Chapter 2
“What’s that?”
Lily’s finger rested against the glass above a row of pastries glazed in honey and scattered with toasted almonds.
I glanced down.
“Orange-cardamom morning bun.”
She studied it with extraordinary seriousness.
“What does cardamom taste like?”
“Like cinnamon’s more interesting cousin.”
Roman, standing half a step behind her, raised an eyebrow.
“That description would offend half of Scandinavia.”
I looked at him.
“I thought you only wanted coffee.”
“I do.”
“Then stop reviewing my pastry descriptions.”
Lily’s mouth twitched.
That tiny almost-smile again.
Roman saw it again too.
And there it was—the thing I had noticed when they walked in.
He watched her carefully.
Not obviously.
Roman Duca didn’t seem like a man who did anything obviously.
But every time Lily’s expression changed, his attention shifted toward her.
When she frowned at the pastry case, he noticed.
When she smiled, he noticed.
When a tray clattered in the kitchen and her shoulders tightened, he noticed that too.
He didn’t touch her.
Didn’t fuss.
He simply moved a little closer.
I turned back to Lily.
“Want one?”
She shrugged.
“That means yes,” Roman said.
“I can speak.”
“So I’ve been informed.”
She gave him a look.
I liked her immediately.
I lifted the bun from the display.
“Warm?”
Another shrug.
Roman started reaching for his wallet.
I pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“It costs money.”
“I know how commerce works.”
“You objected when I attempted commerce previously.”
“You attempted to purchase breakfast for forty-three people because you didn’t want to stand behind a teacher ordering six muffins.”
“She was indecisive.”
“She was buying for a kindergarten class.”
Roman’s face remained perfectly serious.
“She should have prepared.”
Lily laughed.
Not loudly.
Just one sharp, surprised sound.
Roman became completely still.
My hand stopped halfway toward the warming oven.
Lily seemed to realize she’d laughed.
Her expression closed almost immediately.
But the moment had happened.
And Roman had heard it.
Something passed through his eyes.
Relief, exactly as I’d thought.
Maybe something deeper.
I pretended not to notice.
“Sit,” I told Lily. “I’ll bring it over.”
Roman moved toward the counter.
“I’ll pay.”
“Fine. For one pastry and one coffee.”
“Two coffees.”
“You’re assuming I’m serving you.”
“I’ve been served coffee here for three consecutive mornings.”
“That establishes nothing.”
He placed twelve dollars on the counter.
The total was eight seventy-five.
I pushed the extra money back.
“No.”
“It’s a tip.”
“My employees accept tips.”
“And you don’t?”
“Not from men who once tried to rent me.”
Roman stared at me.
Lily, halfway toward a table, stopped.
“You tried to rent her?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I offered compensation for her participation in a temporary social arrangement.”
Lily looked at me.
“He tried to rent you.”
“Thank you.”
Roman closed his eyes for half a second.
It was the first time I had ever seen him look defeated.
May you like
I warmed Lily’s pastry, poured Roman’s coffee and brought everything to the corner table.
The bakery was between rushes.
