Page 13 of The Sweetest Ingredient

He was single. A flutter of relief swirled in my chest and my heart did an unexpected little skip.

“I’m actually surprised that you’re single. I assumed someone would’ve swooped you up by now with your amazing baking talents.”

His eyes held a faint glimmer. “Perhaps I’m waiting for someone who appreciates my devastating magnetism,” he teased.

I tapped my chin with a finger. “Hmm, magnetism, you say? I guess I’ll have to keep a closer eye out for it.”

The subtlest twitch of his lips was Bishop’s version of a laugh. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite irresistible.”

“Well, I suppose it is a big responsibility being the town’s most eligible bachelor. I hope you’re taking it seriously.”

“That goes without saying, it’s a burden really, but someone has to carry it.” His voice sounded husky and deep, causing my insides to melt like molten chocolate.

I giggled. I liked that he wasn’t so serious all the time. He’d become a living testament to the idea that still waters run deep—and oh, how I longed to dive into those depths.

We returned to baking, and each accidental brush of our hands triggered a quiver skittering across my skin, my breath catching in my throat. I busied myself, determined not to be distracted by his heady scent of spice and soap, or the flex of muscles beneath his shirt.

“Does everyone in your family bake?”

He absently traced his fingers along the rim of a bowl. “Pretty much. Not my dad, though, he prefers to barbecue, but my mom and grandparents were all bakers.”

“It must be nice to have family in town.” I kept stirring the now-perfect frosting. “It’s just me and my younger sister, Bree, and of course there’s Mochi, our dog.” I glanced up from the bowl and smiled. “Ever think of adding a bakery mascot to the team? Mochi’s quite the charmer. Could double our customer base.”

Bishop grasped a clean rag to wipe down an already spotless section of the countertop. “Is she good with customers, or does she just eat the profits?”

I dusted my hands with flour, my apron already looking like a snowstorm hit it. “Both. She’s a multitasker.”

He paused, pretending to mull it over. “I don’t believe a mascot is what we need at the moment. For now, how about you focus on the baking.”

Twirling a strand of hair around my finger, I grinned. “I’m fully focused.”

He dropped the towel on the counter. “Oh? Because, unlike some people, I take my craft seriously.”

“Ah, the burden of being a brooding bakery owner. It’s a truth universally acknowledged,” I teased, deliberately mangling the famous Austen line. I flicked a bit of flour in his direction. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re being all stoic.”

Bishop blinked, a hint of pink touching his cheeks. “I, ah, we should really get back to work,” he muttered.

The unflappable Bishop Caine, actually flustered?

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. No more distractions. But I still think we need an adorable mascot dog. Who could resist her puppy eyes and wagging tail? Imagine the Instagram potential.”

He groaned. “You and your ideas.”

We returned to work and the room fell into a slightly awkward silence. I found myself studying Bishop as he worked, taking in the furrow of his brow and the way his large hands deftly iced the cupcakes. He intrigued me, this stoic man who clearly had depths I had yet to uncover.

“So, um, if you were a cupcake, what flavor would you be?” I blurted, eager to see if I could draw him out of his shell just a bit more.

“Why does it matter?”

“Come on,” I said with a shake of my whisk. “Humor me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dark chocolate with a hint of espresso, topped with a rich ganache.”

I pressed my hand to my heart, feigning a swoon. “Ah, mysterious, bold, and irresistibly decadent.”

“And you?”

I bit my lip, pretending to ponder. “Lemon with raspberry filling and cream cheese frosting. Sweet, tangy, and just a little tart.”

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