Page 66 of How Sweet It Is

I stare at the screen. That was dumb. Why am I asking what he’s up to? I regret sending anything now.

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear.

Perfecting my gluten-free scones. Some say they’re magical. (Those people are me.)

I smile despite myself. Maybe his silence last night was just his zombie tiredness coming through. Maybe things aren’t weird between us.

Sounds delicious. Let me know if you need a taste tester.

His response comes quickly.

Be careful, Spreadsheet. I’ll take you up on that offer.

The use of my nickname sends a shiver through me and makes me feel flirty and bold.

I mean it. I can be there soon.

Pause. His answer pops up on the screen.

Only if you don’t say you regret last night.

I bite my lower lip. Do I? I told him things I shouldn’t have. I spilled my real name and even more details that could get me kicked out of the program. But then I think back to the way his fingers slid over mine as we shaped the pottery. The way he held me on the beach as we listened to the waves. The kiss. I type in my answer.

I don’t.

Good. Me neither.

Another long pause as his dots appear and disappear.

Get over here. I have some scones that have your name on them. And I want a repeat of last night.

My stomach flutters at his words.

I’m on my way.

I climb in my car, and before I know it, I’m standing at the back door of the bakery. I reach for the keypad to type in the code and hesitate. Going inside right now feels heavy somehow. Weighted. Like I’m making some kind of commitment to Levi, and that scares me.

I’ve never been in a relationship. Before this weekend, I’d never even kissed a man. Do I really want to open this can of worms right now, while I’m supposed to be in hiding?

I wait a heartbeat before typing in the code and opening the door. I’ve already kissed him and told him my real name. What else can happen now? Levi’s not going to blab to anyone about why I’m here on Willow Shade. The trial will come, and I’ll be fine.

Levi grins at me as I enter his kitchen. “I get the SpongeBob T-shirt and shorts again? How lucky am I?”

I forgot I was lounging around my house in my laundry clothes. I walk over to him, even though he’s elbow deep in gluten-free flour. “I guess you get to see the casual me today.”

He grins at me, full dimple on display. “I’m glad, Claire.”

The way he says my name, like a caress, makes my insides turn to Jell-O. “Don’t call me that,” I scold, even though I like it. A lot.

He winks at me. “I promise, only when we’re alone.”

Levi turns back to his mixing bowl, his forearms flexing as he stirs the thick batter. “You’re just in time. I think I may have cracked the code on these gluten-free scones.”

I lean against the counter beside him, eyeing the mess of ingredients scattered across the workstation. “You mean to tell me there’s an actual code for gluten-free baking?”

“There is,” he says, mock serious. “It’s ancient and secret. Passed down by monks who lived without wheat.”

I laugh, the sound surprising even myself with how light it feels. “Right. And I bet they used almond flour from Costco too.”

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