CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER

1

I

ndulgence was Oona’s favourite place to be. The bakery was the only place she’d consider spending time so early in the morning other than her bed.

She bustled around the kitchen, collecting ingredients for her double-chocolate cookies and taking stock of her progress with her list for the day. She’d already finished the muffins and scones, the cinnamon buns were in the oven, and she’d moved on to cookies.

On top of the usual customer favourites, she had three large orders to fill for local businesses, so she’d come in when the sun was still asleep. While it was fantastic that business was booming, she’d had to hire an assistant to help her keep up with the volume. That had its ups and downs.

A glance at the clock told her that Jesse was about to walk through the door with a caramel macchiato in hand for her. That was one of the ups. Another was that Jesse was great with the customers. The female customers, especially, loved him.

The downs were a little more complicated.

Knowing she didn’t have much time before Jesse arrived, she put butter, eggs, and sugar into the big stainless steel mixer. When the mixture reached the right consistency, she slowed the speed and added salt, baking powder, and vanilla. A liberal dose of cocoa powder and a dash of cinnamon, a touch of nutmeg and a pinch of cayenne pepper. She liked to surprise people’s taste buds a little, and this recipe had several variations that she loved. Today’s was inspired by Mexican hot chocolate. The spices would get the blood flowing and introduce a little heat into the rich chocolate—and the person who enjoyed it.

She slowly added the flour, and when the dough was just mixed, Oona removed the mixing blades from the bowl, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

Her hands over the mixture, she concentrated on words as familiar to her as the other ingredients in the bowl.

She opened her eyes only when she could feel vitality, courage, and self-confidence radiating from the mixture. The red haze stabilized and faded away around the edges of the bowl.

As the doorbell chimed, indicating Jesse’s arrival, Oona set the bowl aside and wiped her hands. He could start his day by spooning balls of dough onto the waiting cookie sheets. She’d even started coaching him on what ingredients went into the mixes. But she never let him watch her do the final step.

Her assistant didn’t know she was a witch. And she intended to keep it that way.

Sam pulled

the helmet off his head and hung it on the bike’s handlebars. Riding to town on trails and back roads was the only way he could justify making the trip to Indulgence so often.

He caught sight of himself in the glass door and cringed. He ran his fingers through sweaty hair, but considering he was covered in mud and soaked in sweat, tidier hair wasn’t likely to make a difference. He was a mess.

It wasn’t quite prime riding season yet, but it was mild for late February. The trails were muddy, and there was a chance he’d run into snow at the higher elevations, but he wouldn’t run into anything too risky if he stuck close to town. He’d spent too much time this winter rotating between his drafting table, his computer desk, and the bakery. He got antsy when he spent too much time inside.

His stomach growled, reminding him that there were cinnamon buns waiting inside. He pushed through the glass doors and into heaven.

The aromas from the ovens were the first thing to hit as they wafted out and filled the front of the bakery. She’d made something chocolate this morning. And the underlying cinnamon scent made his mouth water.

At least until he got to the counter. Then something else got his juices flowing. Oona was leaning down, fiddling with something in the display case. It was always hot in the bakery, and for that he was thankful. It meant she had no need to bundle up. Today, her T-shirt was hot pink, and the low V-neck offered a view that beat out the cinnamon buns for mouth-watering. He caught a glimpse of black lace and cleavage before she stood up and flashed him a smile that fried his brain. “Good morning, Sam.”

It is

now

, he thought. His mind might have melted into a puddle, but his body was wide awake and standing at attention.

Oona handed over a cinnamon bun on a napkin, and he felt a jolt of electric current when their hands brushed. Could she feel it too?

“You know, one day I might surprise you and ask for something different.”

Like a date.

Oona laughed. “One day you might. Is today that day?”

Muddy and sweaty from the ride, he thought maybe it was

not

the day to finally get up the guts to ask her out. He took a bite of the cinnamon bun and leaned against the counter. His mood brightened immediately. “Your cinnamon buns are out of this world. I swear they’ve put a spell on me.” Just like she did. He couldn’t seem to stay away for more than a day or two at a time. “What do you put in these?”

Oona smiled. “All the usual things, with a dash of rainbows and moonbeams.”

Sam laughed. Her smile—playful, with just a hint of mystery—slayed him. He wondered what was going on in her head. And what she did when she wasn’t at the bakery.

He felt a flash of irritation as the bell over the door signalled another customer. He handed her a twenty and put the change into his pocket, stepping aside as the new arrival took his place at the register.

“Enjoy your cinnamon bun, Sam.” A timer went off in the back of the bakery, and she headed through the door as her assistant took over out front, bagging up cookies for the guy in a suit who looked like he was buying for the whole office.

He really needed to ask her out so they could have a conversation that lasted longer than the time between customers in the shop.

But that would be risky. And he was a man who avoided risk.

He always felt clearer, more creative, on the days he made the jaunt into town. It was probably the fresh air and exercise from riding. Or maybe it was the adrenaline boost he got every time he looked at Oona. The way that T-shirt hugged her curves would fuel his fantasies for a couple more days. At least until he replaced the picture with whatever she had on the next time he saw her.

She favoured bold colours and plunging necklines at work, a style choice he totally supported. What did she wear when she wasn’t at work? Where did she go? A couple of times he’d hung out at Just One More, the local pub, hoping she might come in, but he hadn’t seen her. And after a few weeks, he’d given up. He hadn’t been there for a while. Maybe he should try again this weekend.

He could, of course, just

ask

about her plans for the weekend. But he didn’t want to come across as a stalker by showing up somewhere she said she’d be.

Rivers End was small enough that if she shot him down, it would be difficult to avoid each other. And Indulgence was the only place in town he could get cinnamon buns like this.

When it came to flirting, he was out of practice. She was the first woman in a long time who made his pulse speed up. The first woman since his divorce who genuinely sparked his interest.

Maybe his sister was right, and it was time to rejoin the dating world. He’d been careful never to mention his interest in Oona, however. The last thing he wanted was his sister sticking her nose into his personal life when it actually mattered.

She’d been persistent, but he just wasn’t interested in any of the women she’d tried to set him up with. There wasn’t anything wrong with them. But none of them hit anywhere past

fine

on the dial.

Oona? On the dial, Oona hit

hell, yes

.

He took a seat at the table in the corner where he could catch the odd glimpse of Oona working away in the back, emerging occasionally to put out another tray of cookies or chat with customers. He watched how she responded to the other people who came and went—a large number of them, incidentally, men around his age. But she mostly baked, while her helper handled the front.

Interesting.

He’d just have to treat this whole dating thing like his next design project. A good architect got the lay of the land before deciding what to build on a site. He would figure out what she liked to do, make sure she didn’t have a boyfriend among the regular stream of guys who came through the door, and work his way up to asking her out.

In the meantime, he’d enjoy his cinnamon bun and scope out the competition.

Oona retreated

to the back room, leaving Jesse to deal with the customers out front. She threw the ingredients for Bliss Balls into a bowl, her hands on autopilot as she dwelled on the mud-splattered hottie sitting out front. She’d make a little something to cool the heat in her blood. Because that man looked good enough to eat.

He looked like he’d been rolling around in mud puddles, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that she was going to have to wipe down his chair when he left. Judging by the bike and the mud, he’d been riding the trails at the edges of town. Most people looked dorky in cycling clothes, but he wore looser shorts with a slightly padded seat and zippered pockets, making him look fit and sporty.

She bet he’d clean up well. She’d be more than willing to help him soap off all that mud in a steamy shower. But sauntering over to his table and offering might come off a little… forward, what with them having never exchanged more than a few words at a time.

For more than three months, he’d come in every couple of days to grab a cinnamon bun. She wasn’t sure if it was coincidence that he showed up just before Jesse started work each morning, or if that was a product of his work schedule. Not for the first time, she wished her Gift included Sight. For a minute this morning, she’d thought he was going to ask her out.

She’d been pretty damn patient, but the man moved slower than a lazy snail. She could see he was interested by the colours swirling around him, but something was holding him back. Maybe he had a girlfriend. She didn’t want to make a regular customer feel uncomfortable by making a move on him, but it wasn’t too often someone came along who set her stomach—and other parts—tingling just by walking through the door.

That was too rare to waste.

She would go back out there, give him one more shot at asking her out, and then she would do it herself. He might be cautious, but life had taught her that you didn’t get what you wanted by sitting around waiting for it to come to you. Some things were worth a little risk.

Oona washed her hands—she’d finish the Bliss Balls once she’d sorted things out with Sam—and ducked into the staff bathroom for a quick mirror check. With her hair pulled back from her face as it always was at work, her lipstick reapplied, and a slight adjustment of the girls, she was ready.

Time to find out if there was potential for a fire along with those sparks.

Oona walked out from the back just in time to see Sam’s very fine ass settle itself onto the bike outside her shop window. He tucked a microfibre towel into a zippered pocket before riding away.

Not only was the man sexy as hell, he was also a pretty nice guy. It looked like she wouldn’t need to clean up his mess after all—in the shop, or in the shower. Unfortunately.

But he’d be back. After all, there was no question how he felt about her cinnamon buns. And when he returned, she’d find out if he was interested in more than her baking.