Page 4 of Dark Christmas

I laugh. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the one-year plan. We’re on track.”

She smirks. “Good. And don’t forget there’s a five-year plan, too. And a ten-year…”

I smile, remembering all the late nights we’ve spent talking about turning Sweet Talk into a chain of local bakeries. Big dreams, but we’re getting there one step at a time. “Yeah, yeah, I’m all in for world domination.”

Claire heads over to the door to flip the sign announcing we’re open but stops mid-flip, her hand frozen. “What’s up?” I ask, curious. She lets out a low, impressed whistle before shaking her head, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’s the neighborhood hottie.”

I practically trip over myself getting to the door, and sure enough, there he is—my neighbor, looking like a freaking Greek god in motion. I say it out loud before I even realize it.

“Sexy fucking accountant.”

Claire turns to me, perplexed. “What?”

Blushing, I stammer, “He’s my neighbor. And that’s what I call him in my head. He’s got this smart, put-together style and vibe about him, especially when he wears his glasses.”

Claire looks from me to him, and I can feel her assessing the situation with that knowing smirk of hers. Meanwhile, I’m watching his ass, which, in those running shorts, I can see is perfectly sculpted. I can already feel the heat rising between my legs.

Claire catches my not-so-subtle gaze and laughs. “You know, it’s one thing to admire, but girl, you’re straight-up eye-fucking him.”

I snap out of it, my face going full-on red. “I amnoteye-fucking him,” I protest, but I can’t keep a straight face.

Claire shakes her head, still laughing. “Sure, okay. You remind me of the way I used to catch myself staring at David when we first started dating. Same energy.”

“Okay, fine,” I admit, groaning. “Maybe I was eyeing him a little.”

Claire chuckles. “Just make sure you don’t drool on the pastries. That could be bad for business.”

Claire smirks but then pauses, tilting her head as she gives Sexy Accountant another glance. “He’s definitely a looker. He’s got to be what, mid-forties? Maybe late forties?”

I nod, taking another sip of my now-cold coffee. “Yeah, I’m thinking the same. I’ve never been one to drool over older guys, but he’s definitely an exception.”

Claire places her finger on her chin in that thoughtful way she always does when something’s cooking in her brain.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Alright, spill it. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Claire quirks an eyebrow and asks, “So, you said he was your neighbor. Where does this guy live specifically?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “In that huge house right across the street. Why?”

Before I can even blink, Claire’s grinning like a maniac and rushing over to the counter. She grabs a pastry box and starts loading it up with muffins.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous as hell.

Claire looks up, still grinning. “If you like this guy, you can’t just be drooling over him from the sidelines. Get out there and show him what’s up!”

My stomach flips. “No way! There’s no way I can do that,” I say, feeling the panic rise as she continues filling the box.

“Why not?” Claire shoots back. “Bring him a little box of treats, and who knows? Maybe it’ll get him thinking about something else he might want to snack on.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re awful! I can’t believe you just said that.”

She shrugs, totally unbothered. “Just saying, babe. Sometimes you have to be a little proactive.”

She finishes packing up the muffins, seals the box, and ties it shut with a little ribbon. The whole thing looks way too cute and innocent for the dirty thoughts running through my head.

I’m still not entirely sure I want to do this, even though the idea is kind of thrilling. I glance over my shoulder and see some of our regulars heading for the front door. Claire catches the look and nudges me. “Girl, get moving! If you hurry over there now and come right back, you’ll still make it in time for the morning rush.”

“But what if he answers the door?” I ask, feeling the nerves bubbling up in my chest. My palms are starting to sweat at the thought of actually talking to him face to face.

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