Page 72 of Frosting and Flames

I smooth my hands over the skirt of the dress as I stare at myself in the mirror for what has to be the hundredth time. The fit is fine. The fabric is fine. Everything is fine.

So why is my pulse hammering so hard I can feel it in my fingertips?

I shut my eyes and inhale deeply, working on calming myself down. It’s only Nick. I’ve known him for years. Been spending time with him for over a month now. Tonight doesn’t have to be any different.

But this is a first date. And based on that slow, easy way he kissed me goodnight two nights ago… How he told me he’s ready if I ever want anything more, that he’d never waste a chance I give him…

My stomach dips low with anticipation yet again remembering it. I had no idea he could be so romantic. Warmth rushes through me in places I’d rather not think about when I’m supposed to be calming down.

I exhale sharply, pressing my palms against my cheeks as if that’ll soothe the nerves buzzing beneath my skin. And as the faint sound of a truck pulling up in my driveway reaches my ears, my heart stutters in a way that tells me this isn’t only Nick. It’s never been only him.

And I need to finally acknowledge that to myself. I admitted I like him already, and if things keep going the way they have, it could very well turn into more.

Not terrifying at all.

I carefully arrange my hair around my shoulders one last time in the mirror, then pick up my purse as there’s a knock at the door.

Nick is gorgeous in a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. I love it when guys do that. Especially since he has sexy forearms.

Okay, I need to get a grip and stop lusting over forearms.

But it seems he may be doing some lusting of his own as he stares at me, his gaze doing a slow sweep over me, appreciation on his face. When his eyes meet mine, an unsteady smile spreads over his lips.

“You look amazing,” he says, nearly sounding breathless. Do I really affect him that much?

“So do you.” I reach on tiptoes to kiss him hello, loving how his hands briefly circle my waist as he returns my kiss.

His hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me down the porch steps and to his truck, his gaze lingering on my legs as my dress rides up getting in the passenger seat.

My stomach is a ball of tumbling giddiness, delighting in the way he’s looking at me, and a deep certainty that this was the right path forward settles over me. Thank God I gave him a chance, because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with him.

Apparently, Nick made a reservation at the bistro, which I wasn’t aware you could even do, and we’re seated at one of their prime tables near the picture box window overlooking the street. A small, flickering tea light placed in the center of the linen tablecloth casts a soft glow over the polished silverware and cloth napkins, and something about the cozy charm of it all sets me right at ease.

The waitress comes by to fill our water glasses from a carafe, and I can’t help but smile at Nick, that giddiness still filling me.

He reaches across the table to take my hand in his, and though I’ve always thought holding hands at restaurants is too much, I understand the appeal now.

“Tell me about your day,” he requests after we order, and he seems so genuinely interested, I nearly laugh. Kyle hated listening to me talk about the bakery.

I tell him about finishing up the custom birthday cake for Mrs. Harrow’s daughter—a sweet bumblebee cake that took usway too long because of all the fondant bees Sydney insisted on hand sculpting. Then taking inventory and putting in a supply order for the week like I do every Monday.

“Oh, and Sydney convinced me to try out some lemon cheesecake and blueberry rolls tomorrow in place of cinnamon rolls. So we’ll see how those do.”

“Aw, I love your cinnamon rolls.”

I give him a quizzical look. “When did you have one of those? I thought you’ve only tried the danishes.”

“Mrs. Montour gave me one.”

I arch a brow. “You two hang out often?” It’s an unlikely pairing, but stranger things have happened.

He ducks his head, smiling. “She’s my neighbor. And I had to help get her dog unstuck from a fence the other day.”

I hold back a laugh. It’s really not funny. “Poor Dolly.”

“Oh, you know Dolly, too?”

“Mrs. Montour occasionally requests a pup cup for her.”

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