Page 37 of We Can Do
No. I’m probably overreacting. It’s probably nothing.
I lock my phone and shove it into my purse, forcing myself to focus on the immediate future. Noah. Our lesson. The kiss we shared last time that’s been replaying in my mind for days.
My reflection in the rearview mirror shows the nervousness I’m trying to hide. I smooth my hair, check my lipstick, and take three deep breaths before stepping out of the car.
The walk across the street feels longer than it should. Each step carries me closer to Rye Again’s door, closer to Noah, closer to finding out if the kiss meant as much to him as it did to me. The late afternoon sun warms my back, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that floods my cheeks when I think about how his hands felt on my waist, how his breath hitched when I?—
Stop. Professional. This is work.
Except it isn’t, not really, and we both know it.
As I approach the bakery’s front door, my heart pounds hard enough that I’m sure people passing on the sidewalk can hear it. Noah and I have exchanged texts since the kiss—friendly, warm even—but texts can hide so much. What if he’s had time to think and decided it was a mistake? What if he wants to go back to the safe distance of editor and author, nothing more?
The thought makes my stomach drop. If he says the kiss was a mistake, if he gives me that polite, distant smile that means he’s putting walls back up...
Hold it together,I coach myself.Whatever happens, you’re an adult. You can handle this. And if you need to cry, you’ll wait until you get home.
I pause on the front stoop, hand raised to knock, trying to regulate my breathing. The familiar scent of baking bread drifts through the door, usually comforting, now just another reminder of everything that’s at stake. This isn’t just about a kiss or a potential relationship. It’s about the cookbook, my career, his business, the delicate balance we’re trying to maintain between personal and professional.
Through the door’s window, I spot movement in the kitchen. Noah and Lawrence emerge, both holding beer bottles, and my stomach does a complete flip at the sight of Noah. He’s wearing that grey henley that fits him perfectly, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair is slightly mussed like he’s been running his hands through it.
Our eyes meet through the glass. For a split second, neither of us moves. Then I raise my hand in a small, uncertain wave.
The grin that spreads across his face is immediate and genuine, lighting up his whole expression in a way that makes my anxiety evaporate like morning mist. Whatever doubts I had, whatever fears about rejection—they’re gone. That smile tells me everything I need to know.
The threatening text, the upcoming tasting event, all of it fades into background noise.
Lawrence reaches the door first, unlocking it with the easy movement of someone who’s done it a thousand times. “Hey, Alexis. Come on in.”
He smiles and steps back, gesturing me to enter. “We were celebrating a hundred score from the health inspector,” he explains, raising his beer bottle slightly.
“Oh, wow.” The smile that spreads across my face is genuine. After everything Noah’s been through with his previous restaurant, this must mean the world to him. “That’s amazing.”
“Want a beer?” Lawrence offers.
“No, thanks.” I fidget with my hair for a second before catching myself and dropping my hand.
Noah still hasn’t said anything, but I can feel him watching me. His presence fills the space between us like something tangible, warm and magnetic, pulling me toward him even though neither of us has moved.
“I should head out anyway.” Lawrence tosses his empty bottle into the recycling bin with practiced ease. “You two have a lesson to get to.” He glances at Noah, something meaningful in his expression. “Think about what I said.”
A flash of annoyance crosses Noah’s features, there and gone so fast I might have imagined it. He composes himself quickly, but there’s a tightness around his eyes. “Thanks, Lawrence. See you later.”
“Bye, Alexis.” Lawrence gives me a warm smile on his way out.
“Bye,” I murmur, already distracted by being alone with Noah.
The door closes with a soft click, the sound somehow final. We’re alone. The bakery feels different without customers, without staff—intimate in a way that makes my pulse quicken.
I turn to Noah, curiosity overcoming nervousness. “What was he talking about?”
Noah shakes his head, a slight smile playing at his lips. “Boring bakery stuff.”
And then he’s moving toward me with purpose, no hesitation in his stride. His hands cup my face and his lips find mine in a kiss that’s nothing like our first one. That was tentative,questioning. This is certain. This is an answer to every doubt I had walking in here.
He kisses me like he’s been thinking about it since I left, like he’s been counting the minutes until he could do it again. There’s no hesitation, no holding back for fear of who might see through the windows. His thumbs stroke along my jawline as his mouth moves against mine, and I melt into him, my hands finding their way to his chest.
The relief that floods through me is almost overwhelming. He doesn’t regret it. He wants this. Wants me.
