Chapter 1- meet cute

The bell over the bakery door gave its cheerful little chime as she stepped inside—a flash of red hair, a smart trench coat, heels that clicked decisively on the tile floor. She paused in the doorway for a beat, taking in the space: high ceilings, sunlight filtering through half-drawn blinds, the scent of sugar and cinnamon warm in the air.

Dani wiped flour-dusted hands on her apron and leaned on the counter, watching as the woman approached. She was stunning in a polished, tight-wound kind of way—everything tailored, not a thread out of place. Even her lipstick matched the deep copper waves of her hair.

“Hi,” the woman said. “What’s the best thing here?”

Dani smiled. “Dangerous question. Depends if you want something comforting, decadent, or just straight-up life-changing.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Let’s go with life-changing.”

Without breaking eye contact, Dani reached behind her and selected a still-warm chocolate sea salt cookie from the tray. She wrapped it in a napkin and slid it across the counter. “Try this.”

The woman took it, delicate fingers brushing the paper. She took a small bite, paused, then a much larger one—eyes closing, brows lifting as she let out a soft, involuntary, “Oh my god.”

Dani watched the way her whole posture changed with that bite—shoulders relaxing, something proud and polished melting just a little at the edges. She leaned on the counter, chin in her hand, and grinned. “Told you.”

“That is stupid good,” the woman said, already going in for another bite. “Do you bake all this?”

“Every morning. I don’t sleep much.” Dani let the smile linger. “I like watching people enjoy themselves.”

The woman slowed, suddenly aware she’d nearly finished the cookie without stopping. A faint flush rose to her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to inhale it.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s nice,” Dani said, voice a little lower now, more personal. “Most people pick at their food like it owes them something. You actually let yourself enjoy it.”

The redhead blinked at her, surprised—but not displeased. She straightened her coat, ran a hand through her hair. “I’m… Clara, by the way.”

“Dani.”

“Well, Dani—if I eat another one of those, I may have to cancel my meetings.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Dani said, then hesitated for a half-second before adding, “Or you could come back after them. I’ll save you the last one.”

Clara smiled—soft, real, not the kind you wear in meetings. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Only if you want it to be.”

Clara folded the napkin carefully, then tucked it in her coat pocket like a keepsake. “I’ll be back,” she said, turning toward the door.

Dani watched her go, the bell chiming again as she slipped out into the sunlight. She turned back to the cooling trays, a little smile playing on her lips.

The next day, Clara returned earlier than Dani expected—barely past noon, hair looser, lipstick smudged like she’d forgotten to check it after lunch. No trench coat today. Just a soft grey sweater that clung a little more than it needed to.

The bell chimed, and Dani looked up from behind the counter where she was icing a tray of lemon bars.

“Back already?” she said, even though her heart had done a small, stupid lurch.

“I had a meeting across the street,” Clara said. “Total coincidence.” She paused. “Mostly.”

Dani raised an eyebrow and slid the tray aside. “You here for cookies or conversation?”

“Yes,” Clara said, without hesitation.

Dani laughed and wiped her hands. “Still life-changing, or are we easing you into mild spiritual awakening?”

Clara leaned on the counter, eyes flicking to the display. “You said you’d save me the last one.”

“I did.” Dani reached under the counter and pulled out a small plate. One chocolate sea salt cookie, slightly cracked from cooling, still warm in the middle. “Kept my promise.”

Clara didn’t waste time this time. She broke off a piece and ate it slowly, her eyes closing again, this time for longer. She sighed, deep and soft, like the tension in her spine had just let go.

“I think about these,” she murmured. “I’m not proud of it.”

“You should be,” Dani said. “There are worse obsessions.”

Clara’s eyes opened, sharp but amused. “So you admit it. You’re trying to ruin me.”

Dani leaned forward, elbows on the counter, close enough to notice the freckles on Clara’s collarbone. “I don’t want to ruin you,” she said, voice low. “Just… soften the edges a little.”

Clara went still at that—caught, maybe. The cookie in her hand forgotten for a moment. She was watching Dani now, not the pastry.

“I work hard,” she said, almost defensively.

“I can tell,” Dani said. “But you eat like someone who’s starving for more than food.”

Clara’s breath caught slightly—barely—but Dani saw it.

“I don’t usually let people talk to me like that,” Clara said.

“I know,” Dani said. “But you came back.”

Clara laughed under her breath. “Yeah. I did.”

There was a beat of silence, warm and slow.

“Sit,” Dani said. “I’ll bring you something else. On the house.”

“You keep feeding me like this, I won’t fit in my suits.”

Dani smiled, wicked but fond. “Then don’t wear suits.”

Clara opened her mouth, probably for a retort, but thought better of it. She walked to the little bistro table by the window and sat. Her posture wasn’t quite as straight as yesterday. Her hunger wasn’t hidden.

Dani brought her another cookie. This one bigger. Denser. A little indulgent. She set it down with a napkin, then added a gentle touch to Clara’s shoulder before walking back to the counter.

Clara didn’t speak. She just ate.

And Dani watched, quietly satisfied.
Clara stayed longer the next time.

Not just a stop-in—she stayed. An entire Saturday morning, buried in a novel she pretended to read while Dani moved through the bakery like it was her own private stage. Strong, deliberate, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, arms flexing with the kind of muscle that only comes from real work. Not gym-sculpted. Earned.

Clara tried not to watch her. She failed completely.

Dani carried flour sacks on one shoulder like they weighed nothing, cracked eggs with one hand while stirring batter with the other. Her shirt clung damply to her back in places, and every so often, she’d glance Clara’s way—not smug, but aware. Quietly proud.

Clara’s third cookie sat half-eaten on her plate. She was full, but she kept nibbling. She couldn’t stop.

“You always this generous with your portions?” she finally asked, eyes flicking down to her plate, then up again.

Dani wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. Her biceps pulled the fabric of her shirt just enough to make Clara swallow.

“Only for people who need spoiling,” Dani said, watching her. “You don’t let yourself enjoy much, do you?”

Clara bristled. “I enjoy things.”

“You let yourself enjoy control,” Dani said. “You tolerate success. But joy?” She nodded at the cookie. “That’s new.”

Clara looked down, surprised to realize she was still holding the last bite. She popped it into her mouth just to stop herself from having to reply.

“You’re going to make me lazy,” she said when she’d finished, brushing a crumb from her lip.

Dani stepped out from behind the counter, wiping her hands. “I’m going to make you honest,” she said, voice low, steady. “With yourself. With what you want.”

Clara’s stomach fluttered. She didn’t know if it was the sugar, or the way Dani stood—broad-shouldered, grounded, looking down at her like she already knew the answer to every unspoken question.

“I—” Clara faltered, her hand slipping to her stomach. She’d eaten more than usual. She could feel it, pressing gently into the waistband of her skirt. The way Dani looked at her didn’t waver.

“You’re not too much,” Dani said, softer now. “You’re not taking up too much space.”

Clara’s breath caught. Her body felt heavy, but in a way that grounded her, not trapped her. Like the earth was finally claiming her back from the air she’d been trying to float through alone.

“Do you ever stop knowing exactly what to say?” she murmured.

Dani smiled. “No.”

She held out a hand—not commanding, just waiting. Steady. Open.

Clara took it. She stood slowly, her balance shifting as her body adjusted to the full weight of comfort, indulgence, being seen. Dani didn’t look away. Her grip was firm and warm.

“You want to go out?” Dani asked.

Clara blinked. “Out?”

Dani grinned. “On a date. One where I feed you on purpose, and you stop pretending you don’t like it.”

Clara bit her lip, fighting a smile, failing.

“You’re relentless,” she said.

“I’m patient,” Dani replied, leaning in just enough that Clara could smell sugar and heat on her. “And I really, really like watching you melt.”

Clara’s knees wobbled.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But don’t go easy on me.”

Dani squeezed her hand. “Not a chance.”