Page 40 of The Sweetest Ingredient

“I don’t have time,” he said gruffly.

I nudged his arm. “Some fresh air will do you good.”

He glanced at me, his brows pinched, but I could tell he was considering it.

Bishop put down the piping bag and wiped his hands on his apron. “All right, just for a few minutes.”

“Great! I’ll bring tea. It’ll be cozy.”

I grabbed two mugs, poured in hot water, and dunked in teabags. Carrying the cups, I led Bishop through the kitchen and up the narrow staircase.

We climbed the creaky wooden stairs, and the noise from the bakery receded. I missed a step, and he steadied me, his hand warm against my skin, sending a ripple of heat that spiraled up from my toes, through my legs, and enveloped me.

When we reached the top of the stairwell, I pushed open the door to reveal the rooftop. A chill breeze instantly swept through my wavy hair as we stepped outside. String lights that crisscrossed overhead cast delicate shadows on the old brick walls. The town unfolded before us and in the distance, a gentle roar echoed from the waterfall, spilling over the rock-strewn embankment.

Bishop blew out a breath. “I haven’t been up here in months.”

I placed the teacups on a round metal table between two rusty lawn chairs. Jordan had left a plush blanket draped over one of the seats. Grabbing it, I flung it over my shoulders before settling down on the chair with a satisfied sigh.

Bishop sat beside me, close enough that our knees almost touched, but maintaining a respectful distance. We reclined and took in the stunning evening sky. Stars sparkled like gems against the inky black canvas. I became increasingly aware of Bishop’s nearness, the heat emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne, and the way his breathing was slow and steady.

“Look at that view. It makes you feel so small, doesn’t it?” I whispered.

“It does put things into perspective.”

The soft murmur of cars cruising the streets mingled with the soft rustling of leaves and created a soothing soundtrack, making it easy to forget the world that existed beyond the rooftop’s edge.

The wind picked up, teasing the edges of the blanket. I shivered, drawing the fabric tighter around myself.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Just a little.”

He lifted a teacup. “This should help warm you up.”

When he passed the cup to me, our fingers brushed against each other and heat spread through me. He kept his gaze on mine and my heart beat faster. His pupils dilated to an intense depth, dark and sultry, that caused every nerve ending to tingle. And suddenly I was teetering on the brink of a high cliff. My instincts whispered to me to be cautious, but that magnetic pull was drawing me closer to the precipice. Everything blurred at the edges, focusing on the man before me. And even more disconcerting was the feeling that I didn’t want to retreat from the ledge.

Each second stretched on, as if waiting for one of us to bridge the distance. I had never felt this way about a man I was attracted to, and I knew that whatever was happening might end with someone taking a leap.

Neither of us moved.

Breaking eye contact, he sighed and looked upward, gazing at the glowing moon.

I lifted the steamy teacup and took a sip. “We should make pastries inspired by the stars with a dusting of powdered sugar to represent the galaxy.”

“An intriguing concept.”

I sipped my tea, the steam swirling in the night air. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” There was an attentiveness in his posture, his body leaning toward mine.

I placed the cup on the table. “What’s your take on honesty? In relationships, I mean.”

Bishop’s brow furrowed as he considered the question. “I believe honesty and integrity are the foundations of any successful relationship, whether personal or professional. Deceit only leads to distrust and resentment. If people aren’t honest with each other, how can they build anything meaningful?”

His words carried the affliction of long-held beliefs. My admiration for him grew, but so did my unease. He would see my lack of baking knowledge as dishonesty, and a knot tightened in the pit of my stomach.

The distant hum of the town and the chirping of crickets became deafening.

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