Chapter 1

"Better make it three," the customer said as she eyed the fresh pumpkin-caramel muffins.

"Good choice. I can't resist them either," I told her, putting another muffin in the bag for her. They were definitely a big hit.

"Yesterday you were sold out," she said, "So I made sure to come in earlier today."

"I'm glad you did. Good luck on your presentation today," I said.

"I can't believe you remembered that!" she smiled, "Thanks! These muffins are better than confidence. I'm promising myself one as soon as it's over."

"Seems like a solid plan," I said. I turned to my assistant who handed me the latte to go. "Here you go."

"Thanks!" She said and dropped a five in the tip jar.

The large tip made me all giddy inside. This was the kind of shop I wanted to build, the atmosphere I wanted to cultivate. A warm neighborhood coffee place and shop where the regulars know each other, and everybody has an honest opinion when I try out a new recipe. I'd dreamed this place into life and saved for years to make it happen. And after all this time, I still find joy in to waking up bright and early in the morning to keep the shop smoothly running.

The chime on the door jingled to announce another little crowd of five or six people who blew in on the brisk October wind, lured by the cinnamon and clove scent of my muffins on a chilly morning. Jacie rang up the orders while Ryan and I made coffee and served muffins and rolls as fast as we could. I bumped the under-cabinet fridge closed with my hip after taking out another can of whipped cream to top a coffee drink.

"When does the gingerbread happen?" A teenager asked me across the glass case. "You said this fall you'd do gingerbread."

"That's right," I said, grinning. "I'll do a gingersnap crust pumpkin bar in a couple weeks when I phase out the caramel apple ones. The real gingerbread will be the first of November."

"Is there a gingerbread latte?" he asked.

"There could be if a customer wanted to try one," I teased. "I'll try out a couple combinations and you can sample them tomorrow."

"That sounds amazing! It might even get me through my algebra test."

"What day's that?"

"Friday."

"Okay, I'll put that on my calendar and there will be a gingerbread latte just for you."

"You're awesome!"

"Just don't ask me about algebra!" I laughed. "I was terrible at it."

Jacie elbowed me as he left, "He's so cute."

"You like him?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, chewing her lip. Jacie was my youngest hire, a reliable cashier and part-time art student who was always breaking up with someone dramatically.

"He's still in high school."

"I only graduated last year," she reminded me.

"Yeah, but when does he graduate?"

"Good point," she agreed. "I'll have to see if he's a senior, otherwise, it's a no-go."

"Gonna help him study for his test?"

I went to the back to check on Brice, my newest employee. He had attention problems particularly because he kept pulling out his phone and getting on whatever mobile game was the most popular at the time when he was supposed to be feeding pans into the oven and loading the dishwasher.

I found him hastily tucking away his phone and straightening his apron. I reached past him to load the cooled apple-walnut muffins onto a tray.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Save the phone for a break please. I can't afford to run out of stuff to sell. Did you check the list?" I prompted.

I referred to the laminated checklist I hung up for him. When he didn't know what to do, he was supposed to look at the list and check those things—did the dishwasher need to be emptied or filled? Were there muffins in the oven that needed to come out and cool? Was there any cake mixes to ladle into pans and put in the oven?

Proudly, he indicated the dishwasher which was chugging along and the counter he had wiped off. "Great, thank you!" I told him. "Will you grab coffee filters from the closet?" He scurried off to get them.

"Hey, Madison?" Ryan said, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Something wrong?"

"The oven's acting weird. Maybe I did something wrong, but, like when I put the chocolate muffins in, it didn"t seem hot enough."

"Did you crank the temperature up?" I asked, wincing. No one was going to buy incinerated muffins.

"I know I'm not supposed to, but yeah, I did. The thing is, when the timer went off—they're not done."

"Let me see," I said. I opened the oven door and no blast of heat singed my eyebrows or made me squint. Dismally low, soggy batter sat in the wells of the muffin tins. "Shit," I muttered. "Okay, thanks for letting me know. I'm going to go check the breaker. Will you handle the counter?" He nodded. I almost ran into Brice on my way to the fuse box. Fortunately for him, he wasn't messing with his phone. I was trying to stay calm about the oven. Surely it was just a blown fuse, a tripped breaker, something from the antiquated electrical system screwing up the oven which added to the quirky charm of the storefront I leased. Surely it was nothing catastrophic. I couldn't afford another disaster.

I used the flashlight on my phone and pried open the creaky, rusted metal door to peer into the fuse box with its illegible penciled labels on the side. All the switches faced the same direction so nothing had been tripped, but maybe a reset could help. Experimentally, I flicked a couple of the breakers off and on, including the one I thought was related to the oven hookup. "Try it now," I shouted to Ryan.

"Nothing's coming on. Not even the display."

"Great," I muttered sarcastically. "Hang on," I said, flipping the adjacent switch. A groan rose from the crowd, and I swore. "Sorry, I'll fix it," I said, glancing nervously out the closet door to see that the place was plunged into darkness. Frantically I reset the switch I'd tried, but nothing happened besides an ominous popping sound. I tried again but there was nothing for it. I'd blacked out my shop.

I grabbed the battery powered lantern off the shelf from my emergency kit and turned it on. I hurried forward and set it on the counter.

"Sorry about that. Let me get you your orders and then we're going to have to close up until I can get an electrician down here. Cash only, everything's half price as of this moment," I said briskly. With our phone flashlights and the lantern, we managed to serve two of the three customers in line as the people at the tables filed out muttering their discontent.

I came face to face with the third and final person in line. "Good morning," I said with forced cheerfulness, "what can I get you? Apart from lights that work?"

The uneven glow of the lantern cast his face in shadow, but he was still handsome. His suit was financial-manager-perfect, but his smile seemed genuine.

"I'd like a couple of those muffins and a regular coffee to go. If you don't mind, I'd like to call my brother."

"Uh, our phone isn't working but I guess you can use mine. Is yours broken?" I said as I filled the order.

"No, my brother Leo is an electrician. He could help you out."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I'll handle it. Here you go," I said, taking the coffee from Ryan and passing it to the inconveniently handsome customer who was seeing me at my worst.

"I'd like to help if that's okay with you. I don't have the skill set myself—I'm more of a computer guy—but he's great at what he does, and he's working nearby today. It won't take a second."

Behind me I heard raised voices in the kitchen. Brice dropped an f-bomb and stormed out. Jacie yelled after him, loudly enough for my handsome and helpful customer to hear her.

"Sorry," I said and offered him his change. He shook his head.

"Keep it. I hope your day gets better."

I hesitated. I'd built this business all on my own. I didn't like asking anyone for help, least of all a stranger and least of all when it could have strings attached.

"Okay, go ahead and call your brother. I appreciate it," I sighed.

"That wasn't easy for you, was it?" he asked with a wry smile. He made the call briefly, then put his phone away. "He's on his way. He should be here in half an hour."

"Thank you," I said. "What was your name?"

"Noah Foster. And you are?"

"Madison Stewart," I said, shaking his hand. He offered me a business card.

"You let me know if there's anything else I can do to help," he said, and left with a devastating smile.

I preferred to think it was hope that I felt bloom in my chest because an electrician was on his way and not the first rush of attraction for the gorgeous knight in shining Armani who had come to my rescue.