Page 3 of Sweet Somethings

"Around here, people have long memories. Fifteen years is nothing," Sara told her.

"I suppose." She was happy that her dad had left behind an unexpected legacy, and it warmed her heart that so many people remembered him.

"Juliette, I have something for you," Donavan said, reaching behind the counter to pull out a framed photo. "I was cleaning out the storage room yesterday, and I came across some old photos my mother had hung onto for whatever reason." She turned the photo around so Juliette could see it. "What do you think about this?"

Her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of her father in his baker's hat and white apron. She stood next to him at about age six, dressed in exactly the same outfit. They were standing in front of the display counter in the bakery he'd run so many years ago. It had been located across town, and while she'd thought about getting the exact same space, she'd discovered that bakery had been turned into an Italian café, so she'd rented the property across from Donavan's.

It had actually been a better decision, because Donavan's provided a steady stream of customers and another place to sell her desserts.

"You look adorable," Sara said, peeking at the photo over Donavan's shoulder.

"I loved helping him bake. He was my inspiration to become a pastry chef." She took the photo out of Donavan's hands and pressed it against her heart. "Thank you."

Donavan gave her a sympathetic smile. Having lost her mom, Donavan knew firsthand about parental loss. "I thought you might want to hang it at the bakery."

"Absolutely," she said. "I'm looking for as many photos as I can find that show off my dad or his old bakery."

"If I see any others, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate that."

"How's business going?" Donavan asked. "It seems like there is a steady stream of customers going through your front doors."

"It's picking up every month. Christmas was very good. With Valentine's Day looming, sales are staying strong. I just have to be able to keep up with demand. I might have overextended myself by signing up to provide desserts at every pre-Valentine's Day town event. I can't quite believe how much Fairhope gets into the holidays: the romantic movie festival, the love boat parade in the harbor, and the Sweetheart's Dance to name just a few."

"It's a way to turn February into a fun month and bring in some extra tourist dollars that we don't normally see in the winter," Donavan said with a laugh. "And Sara and I'll be right there with you. We signed up for everything, too."

"That's great. I'll be happy to have the company. In between events, I'm also starting to get a lot of orders for private parties, but I'm not complaining; the more business, the better. I love seeing a line at my counter." She paused, as a gust of cool wind drew her gaze to the door. At first she thought it might be the attractive jogger she'd seen earlier, but it was another guy.

"Looking for someone?" Donavan asked curiously as she turned back to her.

"Not really. Well, sort of…"

"That sounds interesting—like maybe you're looking for a guy?" she asked with a gleam in her eye.

"There was a man outside my bakery early this morning," she admitted. "He was jogging, but he stopped to look in the window, and, I don't know…there was something about him—he was kind of unforgettable."

"Like he had two heads or he was super-hot?" Sara put in, curiosity in her brown eyes.

"Definitely not two heads," she said with a laugh.

"So good-looking then," Sara prodded.

"Definitely. He had this super intense gaze." She shivered at the memory.

"That looked right through you?" Donavan asked, a gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, exactly."

"I'm pretty sure that was Roman Prescott," Donavan said. "I heard he's back in town. I haven't seen him since high school, but that man's gaze was searing. There wasn't a girl in the school who didn't think so. If he's looking at you, you won't be able to do anything but look back."

"Did you look back?" she asked, wondering if there had been something between them.

"Oh, sure," Donavan admitted. "But I was two years younger, and far too innocent. Roman was not interested in me in that way. He liked the hot, fast girls."

"In my experience, most high school boys do," she said dryly.

"True, but Roman was different from most of the guys at school. He didn't grow up here, for one thing. He came to town to live with his grandfather when he was a wild, rebellious teenager, and he caused all kinds of problems, but most of them were just pranks. I always thought he had a good heart."

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