Page 38 of The Sweetest Ingredient

Chantel glanced at me. “Don’t you think it’s time you confessed to Bishop that you’re not a trained baker? It would be better to tell him now, rather than later. Or before he finds out from someone else.”

“I’ve thought about it.” I swallowed hard, giving a half-nod. “Daily…in the shower…while brushing my teeth, during the burnt croissants saga, while contemplating the complexities of butter. But how do I admit I never baked on my own other than from a box? I mean, I let him assume I was a professional baker?—”

A loud gasp sounded from behind us and I whirled around, then Chantel followed my lead. The sidewalk was empty. Only a couple window-shopping two blocks away.

“What’s wrong?”

I gave a slight shrug. “Nothing. I thought I heard something.” I brushed my windblown hair from my face. “What if I tell Bishop the truth and he fires me? Or worse, never looks at me the same way again? Just a few of the many reasons I haven’t told him yet.”

“I think it’s better to be honest. Besides, your dedication and passion for this bakery proves that you’re more than qualified to work there, even if you’re not a skilled baker. Just be truthful. He might surprise you.”

I released a resigned sigh. “Perhaps after the grand bake-off, I shall nobly lay down my farcical charade and engage in an honorable conversation with Bishop.”

She gave me a nod. “So, that means no affair with the hot bakery owner until then?”

“Nope, and I’m pretty sure I’m only an annoyingly cheerful employee to him.” I bit my lip. “But…we did almost kiss, I think.”

“Shut up!” Chantel grabbed my arm and tugged me along. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, and I haven’t even told you everything.”

She let go and lowered her hand. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, girl.”

We turned a corner onto a narrow street, the sun casting dappled light through the trees. Honeysuckle floated on the breeze, while the town’s lush flower gardens buzzed with the busy hum of bees.

I fidgeted with the sleeve of my shirt. “Maxwell Turner, the guy who owns the other bakery in town and happens to be Bishop’s cousin, told me troubling things about our dear Mr. Caine.”

“Like what?” Chantel asked, sounding intrigued.

“Maxwell said Bishop totally screwed him over when their grandpa died and Bishop stole his inheritance.”

We crossed the street and passed by Sweet Sensations. Stopping, I peered inside Maxwell’s bakery. The interior was quiet, with a lone customer sipping coffee at a corner table.

Walking again, I tapped my chin. “And that’s not all. Maxwell offered me a design and marketing job—doubling my pay. But if I take it, I doubt Bishop and I would stay friends, the betrayal would hurt him too much.”

We turned onto a tree-lined street, the sunlight dappling through the branches.

Chantel’s brows knitted. “And there would be no chance of dating your boss then.”

I kicked a pebble, and it skittered along the pavement. “That about sums it up.”

“So, you’d give up a great opportunity for love?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m not in love with Bishop. Do I think he’s gorgeous? Definitely. Deep like? Certainly. But I’m not at the L word stage.”

Chantel shifted her bag to the other shoulder. “Girl, I think you’re already halfway there.”

“Enough about my brooding boss. Let’s talk pets and pastries. Now that’s a love story I can get behind.” I quickened my pace, eager to change topics.

“Ah, yes, your latest culinary adventure.”

“I’m telling you, Chantel, this could be a game-changer for the bakery. If we add my pet treats to the menu, it could really make Doughy Desires special.” I spread my hands as if envisioning the marquee.

She gave me a thumbs-up. “I’m all for it. And if anyone can bring creative ideas to that place, it’s you.”

We paused under an oak tree, shedding red and gold leaves.

“Besides all the bakery drama, there’s some good news, too. Bree got accepted to a prestigious music conservatory.”

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