Page 6 of How Sweet It Is

Levi comes out from the kitchen with a tray of croissants. They are filled with some kind of berry jelly and drizzled with white chocolate. My mouth waters as the smell hits me. I want to taste one so bad it hurts, but I can’t. I have celiac disease. Did I mention that I’m going to die working here?

“Hey,” he says as he sees Kiera. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” Kiera eyes the croissants as she rocks back on her heels.

“Here, try my new creation. It’s called Sweet Talker.” He grabs one and hands it to her.

“What’s in it?” I ask before I can think.

He picks one up and extends his hand out to me. “Guess.”

I kick myself for not thinking ahead on that one. I wave my hands. “You are going to give away all your profits. I can’t possibly eat more anyway. Lunch and that cupcake filled me up.”

Levi frowns but puts the croissant back on the tray. Kiera, on the other hand, chomps down on hers. “This is so good,” she says with her mouth full. “I know it’s a fruit of some kind, but I can’t place it.”

Pretty Boy grins, and his dimple comes out in full force. Gah. If the gluten doesn’t kill me, working next to him certainly will. “It’s passion fruit filling.”

Kiera points at him. “Oh! Yes, I can taste it now. But there’s another flavor too. What is it?”

Levi fills the display case with them. “Vanilla bean.” His grin widens. “You have good taste.”

Kiera finishes the croissant, ignoring the compliment. I hand her some napkins, as her hands are now covered in sticky jam filling.

“I think I’ll need more than these,” she says as she wipes her hands.

“There’s a bathroom.” I point around the counter at the public restroom that sits past the tables.

“Thanks.” Kiera leaves to go wash her hands.

Levi finishes filling the display case and turns to leave but stops just before he goes through the swinging doors. He stands by the trash can, and my stomach drops when I see him looking into it.

He turns to me, his eyes wide. “You threw my cupcake away?”

CHAPTER 4

LEVI BARRETT — SUNDAY, AUGUST 30

Istare at Amelia, in shock that she could be so cruel. She just stands there, her mouth flapping open and closed but no words coming out. She looks like a codfish in business attire. Hurt and anger rise in me. “Why did you throw it away? Do you hate sugar that much?”

What I want to ask is if she hatesmethat much. The cupcake in the trash certainly implies it.

She shakes her head. “No. That one wasn’t the one you gave me. I ate that one. It was delicious.”

I don’t understand. “What are you talking about?”

She points at the display case, where the last two of my chocolate-cherry cupcakes sit. “A customer came in and wanted to see one up close. But she sneezed on it, so I had to toss it.”

That’s absurd. She’s obviously lying. But I can’t understand why she would lie like that. It makes no sense. I shoot her a why-are-you-lying look. “Really?”

“Yes. Why? Would you have sold it after that? With sneeze germs on it?” She looks at me with crazy eyes, likeI’mthe monster whenshe’sthe one throwing out perfectly good cupcakes.

I clear my throat, suddenly tired of this game. “No. I guess not.”

“Exactly.” She folds her arms as if that proves she’s sane.

I huff and go back into the kitchen. I toss the tray that held the passion fruit croissants onto the counter and huff again. Why is that woman so infuriating?

I look around my spotless kitchen, the one I cleaned while I worked. What was I thinking? That she’d come in here and praise me like I was five?

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