Eloise

Leaning over the counter, a sigh bubbles out from what feels like the deepest part of my chest. Through the glass panes, the day looks rather lovely outside. People walk by, their attention on the other shops on this strip. If any of them look my way, it's hardly more than a glance.

If a person is curious enough, I can only guess they're from out of town. Sadly, this place isn't a tourist spot. Everyone around here knows well enough to stay away.

After all, no one wants the crazy owner to start throwing sugary sweets at them.

It's been over an hour without a single customer. Quite sad. I can feel another sigh manifesting.

At least I have a few regulars who come throughout the beginning of the day. Those who aren't aware of social media or have cared enough to listen to my side of the story. Those are the people who keep me from drowning completely.

"You sure you don't mind me leaving?" Charity appears behind me, a bag hanging from her shoulder. "I don't mind sticking around."

I know she doesn't. After sending her home early last time, I wouldn't be surprised if the cuts were starting to hurt her wallet. However, if I want to keep her around, I can't afford to pay her for a full shift.

"I'm sorry." Shoulders sinking, an apology is the only thing I can think to say.

My assistant sighs and approaches me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she gives me a much-needed squeeze. "I don't mind, really."

After all this time, Charity has been at my side. From the very beginning, we burned brightest when this shop had a line forming down the sidewalk before the doors opened. Now look at us, suffering together. Everyone else who'd worked under me found something with less of a reputation.

Nodding, I know there's no point in having this conversation. It'll only lead to Charity blaming herself and I won't have that.

"Text me if anything changes and I'll come right back," she assures without missing a beat, "we're in this together."

"You should start applying elsewhere," I groan, "I don't know how many more weeks we can take of this. I'm going to be honest with you here, but I might have to start job hunting too if I want to keep this place running."

Clicking her tongue, she slaps my shoulder this time. "None of that, seriously. Even on a sinking ship, a crew must stick with its captain."

Well, that gets a laugh out of me. "Say that to all the past employees who jumped ship. I don't think they got the memo."

Seriously though. All three of those traitors left because they didn't want to be associated with this place. Despite knowing what happened that day, no one tried to stand in my corner.

No one but Charity.

"Enjoy your afternoon. Go take a nice walk along the coast. Keep an eye out for hiring signs. You know, the usual." Deflating a little more, I work overtime to keep a smile on my face.

"As long as I'm not kicked out of my mother's basement, you've got me," she assures as she makes her way toward the front.

Wishing her a goodbye, I'm left to run the bakery by myself. With plenty of items to sell, there's nothing to do but take in the view past the display window while counting down the minutes before I close the shop. Should I wrap things up early?

There are a good three hours left. Every minute I remain open without selling anything is simply money lost. I don't want to think about how many ingredients will go to waste if I close ahead of time.

Facing a losing battle here, I decide waiting one more hour can't hurt. Popping a sign against the window can't either. Even if selling everything in the display half off isn't going to make much of a profit, it's better than not earning anything at all.

Kicking my shoes off, I consider throwing my body against the couch and calling it a night. All it would take is ten minutes of a random movie to knock me out.

Instead, I stroll to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of wine. I'll forget about my day entirely if I drink the bottle dry. For now, a glass will help ease my headache.

This is my routine. Every time I leave the bakery, I'm left sulking in my apartment. By now, I should be used to this. Despite this, there's the sting of defeat weighing heavily in my gut that will be soon joined with a mouthful of burning liquid.

Getting comfortable at the dining table, I inhale half the glass before I let myself even think about everything that has gone wrong today. Even if I didn't profit as much as I could, selling most of those discounted goods has to be considered a small win.

Grinding my palm against my temple, I assure myself everything will be fine. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. All I have to do is keep my head afloat until this mess is over with. Even though I've repeated these same words over and over and over, I will be okay. I have to be. What else will I do?

Quit and give up? After working all those jobs to fund the bakery, and the years I sacrificed to learn how to run a business, there's no way in hell I can throw in the towel.

Sniffing, I scoff under my breath at the rush of emotions. Attending these pity parties is starting to become a pain. I need to change things up and figure out a way to fix everything.

Though, if someone wanted to hand me the solution to all of my problems, I would not mind in the slightest.

Phone buzzing next to my glass, I check the notification. It's a random email directed to the bakery's account. The subject line catches my attention.

A Business Opportunity.

Snorting at the timing of the email, I debate on clicking it. It'll be a waste of time, I'm sure of it. Especially when most of the messages I receive are from trolls.

Picking my glass up once more, I take in a mouthful. Once I swallow it down, my mind is made.

I need a good laugh right about now. Whatever this is about, I'm sure it'll tickle my insides. Clicking the email, I refill my glass and sit back as I scroll.

I have an offer, Miss Tanner. One you'll find might sound too good to be true. Despite how this will sound, I assure you, it is authentic.

Great start to an email. Totally believable. Someone wants to get a kick out of getting a reply. Should I block the sender before I see how good this offer sounds? No, not yet.

The business I help run is located in Seattle. We could use a bakery like yours to help liven some spirits here.

Seattle. My stomach drops at the mention of the city. The place I grew up in, funny enough. Only a few hours away from this small town, I never once considered returning.

From promising to cover the cost of moving my business over city lines to covering living expenses, I have to agree with the sender.

This does sound too good to be true. Only someone who knows how tight of a spot I'm in would offer such things in hopes of getting me worked up. They think they can trick me.

Setting my phone down, I don't finish reading. Not yet. Even with the buzz of wine in my system, I can't laugh. Rather, I'm feeling more agitated. Mad at the world and at how cruel it can be at times. Already on the ground, life just wants to kick me in the stomach at this point.

If this were something authentic, then yes, I'd scream from the top of this apartment how badly I want this deal.

Looking back at the screen, I look over the contents once more. At the end, the email is signed with Jake McCoy. A fake name if I have to guess.

"Okay, Jake. I won't ignore you." Frowning, I type away my response.

You weren't kidding about your offer sounding too good to be true. You've caught my interest. However, if you want me to even consider your offer, I want to meet in person to talk this over. Maybe I'll even offer you a cupcake for your troubles.

Sending the message, I snort. I'll give him a cupcake free of charge. If he has the audacity to show up in my bakery talking such nonsense, then I'll shove it in his face.

Where I'm at right now, I can't possibly ruin my reputation any more than it already is. It'll show everyone else to not pull a similar stunt.

Finishing my glass with a huff, I'm surprised how quickly I get a response. Hardly but five minutes.

Tomorrow then. I look forward to speaking to you in person. I'll hold you to that cupcake.

Jake McCoy. What a crock.

Snatching the bottle, I decide to take it to the living room. Turns out, I do need a movie.

Thinking nothing of this email, I put it to the back of my mind.

Trolls are nothing when they aren't hiding behind a screen. Nothing will come out of this, I'm sure about that much.

When the door opens and the small bell rings, I'm automatic with my greeting. However, seeing a rather handsome man stroll in doting half a suit, I know he's special. Not a tourist, but someone not from around here. My perfect sort of customer nowadays.

Men like this don't casually roam the streets, nor do they crave sweets. Maybe he saw the discount sign and felt a little itch to taste something sweet. Either way, I'm ready to give this man whatever he wants. Maybe I can talk him into getting a few items.

Missing a jacket to match his slacks, I take notice of the way his sleeves are rolled up his forearms. His shoes tap with each step as he makes his way straight in my direction. Looking my way, his stare is set. Almost like he's here for me instead of my sweets, I get a little tingle in the pit of my stomach.

I'm getting an itch to taste something right about now. This man looks delicious. Hell, I'm tempted to call up Charity so she can witness such a sight as well. I feel a tad bit greedy keeping him all to myself. What a rare sighting.

I'm able to get a better look at him when he stops in front of the counter. Those green eyes look quite warm on this summer day. From the way his sand-colored hair is swept, I can bet the wind is picking up today. Normally, I wouldn't take in a customer this way, but even I can tell there's something special about this man.

"Eloise Tanner?" When he lowers his gaze and takes me in as well, my heart thuds.

For once, I'm embarrassed by the flour coating my apron. After opening the bakery by myself, I had to quickly get the display cabinet full for my morning regulars. By the time Charity came in, the worst of it was over.

Will he notice if I try to swipe away the crust against my stomach?

Realizing he's waiting for an answer, I nod my head.

"Jake McCoy." He offers a hand to shake, his smile hitting me like a punch to the gut. "We were just emailing yesterday."

Lips parting, I look at his hand. Doting a ring on his finger, I'd hardly consider it a wedding band. If anything, it matches the watch wrapped around his wrist. Two seconds later, I register what words have come out of his mouth. Jake McCoy. Not even after finishing that bottle of wine had I forgotten that name.

This man is authentic. He isn't some snot-nosed kid fucking with me. He's right here, breathing and existing.

Fuck, then does that mean the offer he gave was just as authentic? I wish I could reread through the thread of messages to remember how unrealistic his offer was. I remembered laughing once my rage simmered down.

He promised a new start. A real new start. Fuck.

"This is the part where you shake my hand," he explains as his mouth twitches, "unless something is wrong?"

Shaking out of my state of shock, I grab his hand. Feeling the warmth of his fingers against mine, I shake it like he wants.

Looking like I'm some form of entertainment, the corners of his eyes crinkle as I release him.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to arrive so quickly," I lie as I work on keeping a calm appearance. Easier said than done. "Ah, would you like to try something?"

"You did promise a cupcake," he reminds as he takes his eyes off of me for what feels like the first time since entering. Taking a step back to take in what I have available, he contemplates.

While he's not looking at me, I acknowledge the heat growing up my throat. I can't believe I considered assaulting this man with a cupcake if he appeared. Now my heart is racing and I'm wondering if he's going to change his mind once he gets a taste of something I made.

He's never been here before to have tried something in the past. No, I'm sure of it. I would've remembered a face like his.

Picking out a chocolate cupcake with buttermilk frosting covered in chocolate shavings and a cherry on top, I fetch it for him.

Our fingers brush as I hand it over and I feel a jolt go up my arm before hitting me straight in the chest. This can't possibly be good for my heart.

Watching the way his eyes light up as he takes his first bite, I get a hit of nostalgia. Back when business was booming, I remember how much I used to enjoy watching people try my creations for the first time. They'd light up like this.

"Better than I was expecting," he murmurs, "and exactly what I'm looking for."

He's got a bit of frosting on his lower lip. I find myself staring at the white cream. Before I can try and find words to give him a warning, my toes curl as his tongue swipes out to get it.

Blinking, I lift my gaze to see the amusement dancing around his eyes. Well, that's embarrassing. Caught in the act, I know there's no point in trying to save myself now.

"I'm glad you like it." Finding the second most interesting thing to stare at, I don't watch him eat the rest of the cupcake. Thankfully, he doesn't call me out and make this worse. Instead, he finishes my offering and clears his throat.

"So, are you ready to go check out the location?" He lifts a brow as he discards the wrapper. "I promised a tour if I remember correctly."

I pause, my brows lifting in surprise. "Wait, now?"

A small tilt of his head is all it takes to make my stomach tighten. "Yes, of course. Plus," he looks around, "you don't seem too occupied at the moment."

"Seattle is a four-hour drive. One way, mind you," I state blankly, "I don't have that sort of time."

The bakery has a good five hours left. While I might close early some days, I'd never close after being open for only a couple of them.

Jake grins, even having the audacity to laugh. "Who said anything about driving?"

Lips parting, I blink at him in confusion.

"Come with me, Eloise. I promise I will make it worth your time." Something is coaxing about the way he makes the request. Something tells me he doesn't get told no very often.

In all truth, I don't think I'm going to be able to turn him down either. Despite knowing nothing about this man, my will is not strong.

Nodding my head, my toes curl in my shoes. "Okay."

Remembering Charity is still working away in the back, I excuse myself first and slip away to find the woman.

Finding her whipping up buttercream frosting, the moment I'm close enough, I'm clutching her arm.

"You will never believe what is happening right now." Seeing the confusion on her face, I give her a rush explanation starting with the emails down to the man who is now waiting to take me to Seattle. If anyone is going to tell me I'm crazy and stop me before I do something reckless as leaving with a handsome stranger, it'll be her.

Freeing her hands of her work, Charity sneaks over to get a look at him. Her brows lift. "Oh, he's hot."

At this point, I think the two of us share the same brain cell.

"Are you willing to watch over the shop for just a little bit? If I don't return, you can lock up the shop. Worst case, you can call the cops too." Might as well put it out there in case this guy has bad intentions.

A lot of famous killers were good looking, weren't they?

She squints in his direction. "If what he's offering is true, are you going to take it?"

Yes. No. I don't know.

My struggle is written all over my face because she chuckles. "I guess I should be asking if I should actually look into getting a new job."

"No." The answer comes immediately. I can't run this business without her. I'll figure something out to make things work out.

Before I start making plans, I need to see this place first. Sure, Jake might be real, but everything he's offering can stay make-believe until I see it with my own eyes.

"Let me go with him first and if I die, you can have the bakery. If I live, I'll get back to you." Grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze, I thank her.

I can only imagine how long the list is of things I owe her at this point. Swearing I'll make it up to her another time, I abandon my apron and head back toward the front with what feels like the start of hope forming in the pit of my stomach.

I don't want to get ahead of myself. Not when anything can happen.