Page 25 of Marry Me, Maybe?
She wasn’t wrong. The bakery did smell like cake dreams.
The air was thick with the warm scent of vanilla and buttercream, sugar and cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and something fruity. Peach, maybe. Every breath felt like it could give you a cavity, and even I had to admit it smelled like happiness.
The display cases gleamed under soft golden lights, rows of cupcakes lined up like little crowns, frosted pink and blue and lavender, some with sugar pearls, some with sprinkles, a few with tiny fondant animals that made Ivy giggle.
“Daddy, look. Bun-nies!”
I crouched beside her, resting a hand on her back. “You see the unicorn one too?”
She nodded, bouncing on her toes. “With the’ark-’parkles!” she said, dragging out the word.
I knew she wouldn’t eat a single one, not even a nibble. That was never the point. Ivy just liked to look. To marvel at the colors, the swirls, the tiny sugar flowers, and the fondant wings. The cakes were art to her. Little masterpieces behind glass.
And every time we came in, she looked at them like they were brand new.
A woman in a flour-dusted apron emerged from the back, smiling warmly. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Ivy! And Daddy Hudson.” She wiped her hands on a towel tucked into herwaistband. “I wondered when I would get a visit from my favorite customer.”
“’avorite?” Ivy beamed, her smile brighter than a stadium light.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“I hope we’re not getting in the way, Miss Loreen,” I said.
The baker laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not at all. She’s got good taste.” She leaned over the counter and tapped the glass gently. “I made a whole tray of new designs this morning. Want to come see them up close?”
Ivy’s gasp could’ve cracked glass.
“Weeeeally?”
“Really,” Miss Loreen said. “Actually… would it be all right if she came to the back with me for a bit? I’ve got a cake that needs decorating, and she might enjoy that.”
Ivy spun toward me, clutching my jeans with frosting-filled wonder in her eyes. “Pweaze Daddy? I won’t touch… just see. I pwomise.”
I hesitated.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Miss Loreen. Hell, if there was anyone in this town who gave off true-blue grandma energy, it was her. But the world didn’t hand out name tags for danger. And no matter how kind someone seemed, I couldn’t afford to forget how fast things could go wrong.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said carefully, keeping my voice even, “but I can’t leave her alone.”
Miss Loreen’s smile didn’t waver. “Then come too. The more, the merrier.”
Ivy tugged my hand. “Come too, Daddy?”
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and nodded. “All right, Bug. Let’s go see the magic.”
The back room smelled like powdered sugar and almond extract, warm and clean.
“First, hands.” Miss Loreen guided Ivy to the sink. “Every good decorator knows you gotta start clean.”
I stood off to the side, arms crossed, but my heart damn near melted as I watched my daughter stand on tiptoe, scrubbing her hands with way too much soap and concentrating so hard her tongue poked out again.
Miss Loreen pulled a step stool up to the prep counter and helped Ivy climb on, then handed her a hairnet and the tiniest white apron I’d ever seen. She tied it gently around Ivy’s waist.
The protest caught in my throat. This wasn’t random. She’d prepared for this. Unless she had little elves to take over the bakery when she was in bed, she’d bought that apron for Ivy, and that left me choked up.
Miss Loreen placed a simple white cake in front of her, then opened a tray of piping bags and trays of sugar flowers. “All right, little miss. This one’s yours to design. You can tell me where everything goes.”
Ivy didn’t touch a single thing. She didn’t need to.
