Page 8 of Sugar Dusted Dad Bod

We’re both in shock as Jasper lurches to his feet, shrugging on his coat and crossing to the door. I follow in a daze, my fingertips and toes going numb as Jasper shoves on his boots without bothering to lace them.

He’s so grossed out by the idea of kissing me that he’s literally fleeing from my apartment. This is my worst nightmare. It’s not just that he doesn’t want me that way—it’s that Jasper is desperate to get away. He can’t bear to be here a minute longer, not even as friends.

“Okay,” my boss says, talking to the wall over my head. “I’ll see you for your shift tomorrow. Thanks for the coffee, Cady.”

I nod, dizzy and miserable. “Thanks for the tree.”

“No problem.”

The door shuts behind him, leaving me with nothing but my ragged breathing and the soft croon of carols. They were comforting before, but now they’re mocking me. Our tree stands proud in the corner, but I can’t look at it right now. Can’t bear to think about how happy I was only an hour ago; how hopeful.

“Okay,” I say to the universe at large. “You win.”

There’s a whiskey bottle in the kitchen calling my name.

Four

Jasper

Ispend a sleepless night and a robotic day in the bakery feeling like a complete prick. Every minute, every hour, I relive it all: the sprig of mistletoe in my hand, Cady’s intake of breath, the way the room went so quiet and still. My sluggish heartbeat and the cold seeping through my veins as I pictured leaning over to her and Cady flinching away.

In that moment, when we both looked down at the mistletoe, I told myself:There’s no way on this Earth that Cady wants to kiss me. I need to get her out of this. I need to save her from this shit show.

But when I shoved the sprig back in the box, when I finally turned to my assistant baker, she looked… disappointed. Hurt, even.

My heart thumps hard enough to bruise at the thought.

Fuck, if I really did hurt Cady’s feelings last night, I will kick my own ass.

The kitchen is hot and bright, with trays of mince pies turning golden in the ovens. Racks of fresh loaves are out in thestore, still warm for their buyers, and I’m grinding through the day’s orders on autopilot. It’s a relief to keep my hands busy.

Outside the window, the sky is dim. Soon, it’ll be dark and starry out there, and Cady will arrive for her shift, and I’ll have to act like a normal human being and not a complete mess.

It was hard enough before, acting normal and trying to be a good boss when I was sickeningly in love with my assistant baker. But now… after last night…

Hey, maybe an asteroid will hit and I won’t have to deal with this. Here’s hoping.

The Sugar Dusted store does good business all day, with a constant stream of chatter floating through the kitchen wall. When the shop manager, Inge, ducks in to wave goodbye for the day, she looks like she’s been fighting off a mob.

“Night, boss.”

I wave a floury hand. “Night.”

Then I’m alone with the ticking clock and the hum of the ovens.

Mince pies out and placed to cool. Flour scattered over the worktop to make shortcrust pastry for some pumpkin pies. My hands move without input from my brain, which is just as well since my brain can only think of one thing.

Cady. Cady. Cady.

Once the sky outside is ink-black and speckled with stars, the bakery back door swings open. Cady steps inside, stamping snow off her boots onto the doormat and unwinding her knitted purple scarf. Snowflakes cling to her auburn braids.

“Hey, boss.”

She won’t look at me. Won’t even glance in my direction as she shrugs off her coat and hangs it on a hook with her tote bag. Cady’s baker’s tunic is clean and pressed.

My gut sinks.

“How’s the tree looking?” My tone is all wrong, all forced and jovial, but I can’t just stand here and feel this gulf between us. Usually, when Cady steps into the bakery and I see her for the first time that day, a knot of tension inside me relaxes. Everything slots into place; everything feels right.

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