Chapter Twenty-Seven

The steady whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm air, carrying the faint metallic scent of disinfectant as Kaelani wiped down the inside of the oven. The clock above the counter ticked toward closing time, its steady rhythm the only sound between bursts of Tessa’s humming as she swept the front of the shop.

“Hey, can I come in early tomorrow to mop? Jeff’s picking me up tonight, and I don’t want him to catch me mid–janitor fantasy.”

Kaelani glanced over her shoulder, brow arched. “Two dates in one week? That’s a new streak for you.”

Tessa leaned on the broom, flashing a grin. “What can I say? The man knows how to handle a stick shift—and I’m not about to waste that kind of talent.”

Kaelani groaned, half laughing, half mortified. “Tessa, please. I bake pastries in here.”

“Relax, boss. You make things rise in the oven, I make things rise elsewhere.”

Kaelani sighed, “Yeah, and I can always count on my pastries not changing temperature every five minutes.”

Tessa slowed her sweeping, the bristles rasping softly against the tile. Her grin faltered just enough to show she’d caught the weight behind the joke.

“Hey,” she said gently, resting her chin on the top of the broom handle. “Screw that guy. He’s not worth another second in that head of yours.”

Kaelani forced a faint smile, eyes still on the inside of the oven door as she scrubbed away the grease. “Trust me, he’s not getting one.”

Tessa studied her for a moment longer, then nodded like she believed her—almost. “Good. ’Cause if he tries, I’ll toss him in that oven the next time you preheat.”

That earned her a small, real laugh—the kind that cracked the quiet and made the kitchen feel lighter again.

The bell above the door chimed, and both women turned.

Julian stood in the doorway, the low evening light catching on the sharp line of his jaw. The air seemed to tighten in his presence.

Tessa blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Wow,” she said, leaning on her broom. “You really can’t take a hint, huh?”

Julian’s expression barely shifted. “Relax,” he said, tone even but defensive. “I just came in for a honey cake and a coffee.”

Kaelani crossed her arms, one brow lifting. “You drove all the way here for cake and coffee?”

“Actually,” Julian said smoothly, glancing around the quiet bakery, “I was in the neighborhood.”

Kaelani scoffed, shaking her head. “We’re closed.”

Julian checked the sleek watch on his wrist. “Not for another fifteen minutes,” he replied.

Her patience thinned audibly in the breath she released. Without another word, she grabbed a paper bag from the counter, yanked open the glass display, and pulled out a honey–cinnamon cake. She dropped it into the bag with more force than necessary.

“Anything else?” She asked flatly, holding the bag out like she wished she could throw it at him instead.

Julian didn’t take the bag right away. Instead, he glanced toward the display case, feigning thoughtfulness. “Actually…” he said slowly, tapping his chin, “maybe I’ll take one of those lemon tarts too.”

Kaelani’s jaw flexed. She turned, opened the display again, grabbed a tart, and dropped it into the bag with a dull thud.

Julian nodded as though deeply considering his options. “And one of those—what are they called? The little ones with the sugar glaze?”

“Maple twists,” she bit out.

“Right. One of those.”

Another slam of the lid, another pastry tossed in.

He hummed lowly, pretending to weigh a decision that clearly wasn’t that hard. “You know what, better make it two. They look good.”

Tessa leaned on her broom, grinning. “Oh, this is so painful to watch.”

Kaelani ignored her, shoving the bag across the counter. “You done?” She asked, voice clipped.

Julian met her eyes, amusement glinting behind the calm mask. “Hmm.” He glanced toward the display one more time, purely to test her. “Actually—” he said, his tone casual, almost teasing, “I’ll take that coffee as well.”

Kaelani looked up at the clock. “You want coffee at five forty-five in the evening?”

He met her gaze, unbothered. “Long drive ahead.”

She sighed through her nose, turned, and grabbed a cup from the stack.

“Make it a large,” he added.

Her jaw tightened. She put the cup back, grabbed a bigger one, and reached for the pot sitting on the warmer. The hiss of the pour filled the silence.

When the cup was full, she grabbed a lid and brought the coffee to the counter—then, without breaking eye contact, she spit in it, sealed it tight, and slid it across to him.

Julian took it without hesitation, watching her the whole time. He took a slow sip, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Ahhh,” he said, almost sighing. “That’s good coffee.”

Kaelani rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stick that way.

Tessa leaned her broom against her shoulder, grinning wide. “God, this is better than my soap operas. I should be charging admission.”

Julian finally tore his gaze from Kaelani. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” she said coolly.

“Oh no,” he countered, already pulling out his wallet. “I insist.”

“You can pay by leaving,” she replied flatly.

Julian set a few crisp hundreds on the counter. “Consider it a tip.”

Kaelani glared at the bills. “I don’t want your tip.”

Before he could respond, a loud honk echoed from outside.

Tessa’s eyes went wide. “Shit! That’s Jeff.” She looked around, broom still in hand. “I didn’t even finish sweeping—”

Julian smirked. “I’ll handle it.”

“No,” Kaelani cut in quickly, but her protest was lost under Tessa’s voice.

“Really? Great!” Tessa said, thrusting the broom into Julian’s hand. “Make sure you get those corners good—she’s a stickler about that.”

“Tessa—”

But she was already untying her apron, tossing it onto the counter with a wink. “See you tomorrow, Kae!”

The door chimed as she hurried out, leaving Kaelani staring after her in disbelief.