Page 44 of The Sweetest Ingredient

“I’m here to take you up on that offer. Graphic design and marketing extraordinaire at your service.”

His lips curled into a devilish smirk. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon.” He rested his hands on the counter. “However...”

I could practically hear the ‘dun dun dun’ of dramatic music.

“I’m afraid the position is no longer available, Miss Middleton.” Maxwell’s voice took on a cruel pitch. “In the high-stakes world of bakery competition, you snooze, you lose.”

My face burned, but I held his gaze. “But...I thought...but you said...are you serious?”

He gave me a solemn nod. “As a fruitcake at a birthday party.”

“I...I see.” The realization settled in like a weight. We held each other’s gaze, a silent battle of wills, before I allowed a slight, defiant tilt of my head. “There never was a job for me here, was there?”

His laugh, devoid of warmth, punctuated the air. “Ah, well, you are most perceptive, Miss Middleton.”

“In light of your revelation, I declare there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything other than of a book. And in this case, I find the unfolding story of your character far less enjoyable and far more tiring than any novel. Good day, sir.”

With my head held high, I turned toward the door, tears blurring my vision.

What am I going to do now?

As soon as I stepped outside, the floodgates opened. Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. Every ounce of hope I’d had for Bree and me evaporated.

I gripped my bike’s handlebars and gave them a hard yank to wheel it around. The bike wobbled in my sweaty grasp, teetering before crashing to the ground.

Sighing, I stooped to haul my bike upright, and a bird perched on a tree above me let out a squawk. I glanced up as it released a giant, white blob that landed splat on my shoulder.

“Are you kidding me?” I shrieked as the warm poop oozed down my shirt.

It was as if the Universe had used me for target practice.

A man jogging past snorted, and I wanted to disappear down a manhole. I pushed my bike forward, the chain drooping limply.

“Kenzi...?”

I whirled, startled by the sound of my own name. Blinking through my tears, I looked up to see Bishop, standing a few feet away, eyebrows knitted together.

“Kenzi, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, I couldn’t believe he was here, seeing me like this—teary-eyed and splattered with bird poop.

“Everything,” I choked out, turning away to wipe my eyes on my sleeve.

“Here, let me help you.” Bishop stepped closer and righted my bike.

I hiccupped. “Thanks.”

He sighed, his forehead creasing. “Why did you quit?”

Sniffling, I watched a line of ants marching across the sidewalk. “After our talk, I felt like I had to consider other options—make things less difficult at work. So, I decided to accept Maxwell’s offer, but he lied. There was no job.” I sniffled again. “Now I can’t afford Bree’s tuition...you were right, I shouldn’t have trusted Maxwell.”

Bishop placed a hand on my other, thankfully clean, shoulder. “Kenzi, I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Trust me, you’re better off not working for my cousin.”

His touch sent a swarm of butterflies through my stomach.

“Listen,” Bishop said. “I want you to work at Doughy Desires. I can’t deny that I have feelings for you, but I need to focus on getting the bakery back on its feet.”

My heart pounded as I processed his words. He liked me, too!

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