Chapter Three
360 Words
Piper’s bakery smelled like cinnamon, espresso, and dangerously good decisions.
Elena stood behind the counter balancing a tray of pastries while Piper rearranged flowers in tiny glass jars.
“You’re scowling at the croissants again,” Piper observed.
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking about Rowan.”
Elena nearly dropped the tray.
“I hate that you know my face that well.”
Piper grinned.
“You used to stare at him like he personally invented oxygen.”
“That was years ago.”
“And now?”
Elena opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Piper’s grin widened.
“Oh, this is serious.”
Before Elena could defend herself, the bakery bell jingled.
Rowan stepped inside.
The entire room shifted around him.
Or maybe Elena was just hopeless.
He wore a dark thermal shirt beneath a weathered jacket, his hair still damp from the sea air.
Piper looked between them with the expression of someone watching her favorite television drama unfold live.
“I suddenly remembered I need to check the ovens,” she announced loudly.
“Elena said.
“Not helping,” Elena said.
Piper vanished anyway.
Coward.
Rowan approached the counter.
“You left your phone at the inn.”
He held it out.
Their fingers brushed.
Heat rushed through Elena instantly.
Ridiculous.
“You drove all the way here for this?”
“You had three missed calls from a New York number.”
Her stomach tightened.
Right.
Reality.
She took the phone carefully.
“Thanks.”
Rowan watched her expression.
“Bad news?”
“Not exactly.”
“That sounds like exactly bad news.”
Elena leaned against the counter.
“My old company wants me back.”
Something flickered briefly across his face.
Gone almost immediately.
“That was fast.”
“They’re desperate.”
“Are you going?”
The question hung between them.
Heavy.
Complicated.
“I don’t know.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Rowan nodded once.
Then, softly:
“You should only go if it makes you happy.”
The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
No manipulation.
No pressure.
Just honesty.
And somehow that made everything harder.
- Writer
