Page 24 of A Gingerbread Romance

She sipped from the hot coffee she’d ordered, then unwrapped her burger as Jonathan situated his bag of food in the center console. Her growing attraction wasn’t something to focus on right now. She shook off the feelings and concentrated on her lunch.

The rest of the drive home was quieter, but it was a comfortable quiet—one earned by sharing an enjoyable day together. Jonathan turned on Christmas music, and Greta lost herself in the nostalgia of each song.

By three-thirty, Jonathan pulled up to the bakery again, and Greta asked one of the guys from the kitchen to help him unload the buffet table.

“It’s so pretty!” said Judy, stepping out for a look once they’d brought it inside.

“Isn’t it?” said Greta. She explained about the tables and chairs.

Since the bakery was closing in half an hour and Greta wasn’t going to stay, Jonathan offered to drive her home before he returned the truck to Wade.

“Sure, that would be great,” Greta said, a part of her wishing their day together didn’t have to end. He’d been so patient while she’d browsed, so knowledgeable about the different levels of commercial-grade furniture, so upbeat and determined about the hunt even when they’d had a hard time finding something good.

The task would’ve been much harder without him, and she would’ve had to pay for the delivery of the buffet if he hadn’t taken her in the truck.

Why did friendship no longer seem like enough with this man? She swallowed over the lump in her throat.

Outside her Victorian, Jonathan pulled the truck against the curb, and Greta reached for the passenger door’s handle. “Oh, wait—you wanted to talk to me about something earlier today, didn’t you? What was it?”

His eyes found hers, and he studied her for a beat. Greta lost herself in his gaze.

“Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he finally said.

“Oh, okay.” She nodded, relieved, because the more intimate their conversations became, the more difficult it was to see him in only a platonic way. “Thanks again for today. It really means a lot.” She hopped out of the cab and shut the door. Friends didn’t need to hold doors for friends, and that’s all they were going to be. She could open and close it for herself.

She walked around the truck and found him in front of its glimmering headlights. He’d tried to reach her door in time to open it for her, regardless. What a gentleman. “Oh, thanks.” Her heart warmed again, in spite of herself.

His dark eyes gleamed down at her. “I can stop by and help you set up when the furniture’s delivered this weekend, if that works?”

Before she could stop herself, ayesemerged from her lips.

* * *

Unloadingthe furniture with Greta had proved to be as enjoyable as shopping for it. Jonathan shot her a glance as she sized up the area that she’d planned to allot to dining.

The bakery had still been busy when he’d arrived at three forty-five, with shoppers grabbing loaves of bread and desserts for last-minute Saturday dinners and early Christmas parties.

A craft and food festival had been going on in town, as well, Jonathan had noticed. Greta said the store had been hopping all day because of the annual event, resulting in much higher sales, as hoped. The festival seemed to be winding down, though, as temperatures dropped in the late afternoon.

Fortunately, the side street next to the bakery had been clear of tents and booths, so the delivery truck had pulled in easily alongside the store.

Christmas Eve would be here Thursday already—only five days from now. How had the month flown by so quickly? Jonathan’s building sales were almost complete, with only a few things left to finalize, so he found himself with a lot more time on his hands. He could’ve gone home this weekend for a few days, but he’d decided to stay.

The Smithfield had closed late at four fifteen, and a few of Greta’s employees were still finishing up in the kitchen.

One of them had quickly swept and mopped the front of the shop’s floor as the truck arrived, so now he and Greta were arranging the layout of the tables and chairs on squares of sparkling tile.

He grinned at how enthusiastic she was about the project. This woman had a palpable zest for life and for this bakery, and he loved her energy.

He also admired the plans she’d come up with for the space. She’d put some thought into the flow of traffic and the best way to funnel customers to the parts of the store they’d need to go, depending on what they’d come for. She’d also been patient with the delivery men and pleasant with every last customer, even as so many had made special requests past closing time. Honestly, he couldn’t get enough of Greta Ross.

Still, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking this way. He wasn’t supposed to be spending all of his free time with her, either, or working on the bakery, or thinking about the future in terms of the woman who made his heart race. She’d made that clear.

Or had she? Things seemed to be changing between them. She had a look in her eyes sometimes that he couldn’t quite identify, but it made him hungry for more. He was sure he’d felt something between them just a few nights ago, and their trip to the furniture stores, and today, only seemed to reinforce that connection. It was official—she was no longer upset with him. They had become friends, against all odds. But did she still have feelings for him?

Greta rested a hand to her chin, startling him from his thoughts. “What if just two sets of tables go against the wall?” She studied the space. “I thought we could fit three, but now that I see it, I think it might be too crowded.”

He studied the area, then nodded. “I agree.” He shuffled toward the third table, inhaling her fresh vanilla scent as he passed her. Was it just because she worked in a bakery that she always smelled so sweet? “I think you could move two sets closer to the windows, though, if you wanted to.” He gestured to the spots he was talking about, one of which sat next to the Christmas tree. “Over there and then right here. What do you think?”

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