Page 18 of The Sweetest Ingredient

“I know.” Bishop dragged fingers through his hair. “We grew up together, and Maxwell never showed any interest in baking until I inherited the family business.”

I leaned against the counter next to the gurgling coffee pot. “Have you and your cousin always been rivals?”

Bishop’s posture stiffened. “Yeah, we’ve always been competitive.” My boss grabbed a rag and started wiping down the spotless counter—his stare distant and far away, as though lost in thought. “Maxwell doesn’t understand that it takes more than fancy presentations to succeed in this business. Sure, I could take risks by experimenting with different recipes, but in the end it all comes down to flavor quality. It’s why I’m committed to upholding long-established baking techniques.”

I smiled. “It couldn’t hurt to be more open-minded.”

He blew out a huffed breath. “I like tradition, Kenzi.” His features formed a determined sternness that somehow managed to be utterly endearing.

We became quiet for a few minutes, only the hum of the dishwasher and the tick of the wall clock permeated the room.

“It’s your bakery and you know best, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.” Bishop’s eyes glimmered with sincerity.

My gaze was drawn to his mouth, noticing how his lips shaped each word so perfectly. The tiny quirks in his expression, the slight uptick of his lips and the crinkle near his eyes were hopelessly adorable.

“And it’s certainly a bonus to have an employee as charming as you to handle the difficult customers,” Bishop replied, his tone warm.

I flashed a grin. “Well, I do happen to have a PhD in Charm.”

“Do you, now?” His voice held a gentle teasing.

As I smiled at my boss, what started as a spark of attraction was now turning into a steadily growing ember of friendship between us.

I leaned in conspiratorially, my hand shielding the side of my mouth as if harboring a secret. “Graduated top of my class. I can turn any frown upside down.”

One of his eyebrows quirked upward. “That’s a mighty claim.”

I wagged a finger at him, putting on an exaggerated pout. “Ye of little faith. I have my ways, Bishop, and resistance is futile.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I suppose I could use more charm in my life. But I should warn you, my standards are very high.”

I grabbed a feather duster from behind the counter and pointed it at him. “Sir, you wound me! Do you doubt the capabilities of a certified Charmologist?”

“No. Not doubt...you’re definitely a charmer,” he murmured, his voice taking on a tender note that threaded around my heart.

The golden afternoon light slanted through the front windows, painting everything with a soft, warm glow.

We lingered in the bakery’s front seating area, and the tangy sweetness of lemon tarts filled the air. My feather duster sashayed across the counter as I hummed along to the radio, occasionally using the handle as a pretend microphone, my curls bouncing with each swipe.

“I’ve been wondering, what is it about Austen that you like so much?”

“Her characters are so…layered,” I said, searching for the right words. “She dives deep into social norms, then breaks them apart with her stories.”

Bishop nodded. “Interesting perspective. So, you enjoy complex characters who challenge conventions?”

“Absolutely. After all, those are often the most intriguing people in real life, too.” I glanced over at Bishop wiping down tables on the other side of the room. “I think Pride and Prejudice will always be Austen’s most beloved work.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I still maintain that Persuasion is Austen’s crowning achievement.” He paused to look at me. “Anne Elliot’s quiet strength and the theme of second chances? Come on, it’s timeless and my mom’s favorite heroine.”

I scoffed. “Pride and Prejudice, Bishop. It’s about first impressions and quick judgments. Plus, Elizabeth Bennet is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Ah, but you see, Persuasion offers a maturity in romance that Pride and Prejudice can’t match.”

I moved on to straighten the condiment bottles, making sure the labels all faced forward. “Anne and Wentworth’s love story does have some good stuff about enduring love, patience, and getting another shot at romance. But their pining is a slow burn compared to Lizzy and Darcy’s fiery conversations.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a hint of amusement finally breaking through his usually impassive demeanor. “Well, I do agree that Elizabeth and Darcy’s story is one of growth, misunderstanding, and eventual mutual respect. It’s not just a love story; it’s a social commentary.”

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