What a fascinating woman. Luke had been mesmerized by Abigail’s description of the specialty treats she was making for Valentine’s Day. Her enthusiasm for her work was a real turn-on.

Good for her that she’d created a satisfying business that clearly brought her joy. Helping someone with such a positive mindset would be rewarding.

On Sunday afternoon at the GG he would have described her as cute. Today, surrounded by white lace, red hearts and the aroma of cookies, she was in her element. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

And she was looking back, her eyes bright with laughter. His reaction to the cookie must have tickled her. Were her eyes brown? Green? Hard to say. But he enjoyed the sparkle.

Ingrid set the plate of cookies on the counter. “Great to meet you, Luke. I’ll leave the two of you to continue your discussion while I head upstairs and feed my fish.”

“You live upstairs, too?”

“I do. It’s convenient.”

“I can see how it would be.” After she left he looked at Abigail. “Do Roxanne and Ingrid rent from you?”

“Goodness, no. I don’t own the building. I lease the space for the bakery plus one of the apartments. There are three up there.”

“So you have a landlord.”

“Landlady. Mrs. Gibbs.”

“Okay then. I was beginning to think you were independently wealthy.”

“Hardly. My inheritance was enough for the equipment and a cushion to get me through the first year or so.”

Something in her expression told him that cushion might be dwindling. “You’ve made this place very inviting.”

“Thank you. Want a tour?”

“Absolutely. Can I take a cookie for the trip?”

“By all means. Grab the whole plate.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He picked up the cookies. “These are delicious. Best I’ve ever had. Did you bake them or Ingrid?”

“I did. She’s concentrating on bread and croissants to start with, which is a huge help.” She walked around the counter. “Follow me.”

He sure was enjoying the cookies. And spending time with Abigail, who was the sort of vivacious, independent woman he was drawn to. His mom would have recognized that. She’d shown great restraint in keeping her mouth shut.

“We have four ovens.” Abigail pointed them out. “If I’ve stockpiled enough inventory, then we never have to run out of anything.”

“Not even by the end of the day?” Could be potentially wasteful.

“Rarely, especially now that I have Ingrid to help me. I start at three and bake until we open at six, when Ingrid pitches in. If pastries are going fast, we keep baking so we can replenish the supply.” She gestured to a large island in the center of the kitchen. “Prep area. Pans stored underneath.”

“If you’re baking, who waits on customers?”

“I have two more employees who are available to work the counter. I schedule one or both to come in at six, depending on whether it’s Ingrid’s day off. Traffic slows down around nine. We refresh the display cases, sweep the floor, wipe down the tables, things like that.”

“Your other staff members stay during the slow time?”

“There’s no point in sending them home. Business gets brisk again around ten-thirty when customers come in for mid-morning snacks. That’s when most people pick up their pies and cakes, too.”

“Do you serve coffee?”

She glanced at him. “I do. Do you want some?”

“No, thanks. Just wondered how many people stick around to eat their mid-morning snacks.”

“A few.”

“How about afternoons?”

“Some people want a couple of cookies or a pastry and coffee, but most are buying a whole pie or cake to take home. Not super busy in the afternoon.”

“But you still have three people here?”

“Except when someone’s on a break. I stagger those.”

He nodded. Sounded like she might be overstaffed but he wasn’t ready to get into that. When she showed him the supply room, he had the impression she was overstocked, but he didn’t mention that, either.

Better to emphasize the good things and there were plenty of those. “Your setup is great,” he said after the tour ended. “The kitchen is well organized and I’ll bet customers like being able to watch you at work.” He certainly would enjoy it.

“Thanks.”

“On top of that, everything’s spotless. I’m sure the health inspector loves this place.”

Her face lit with pleasure. “We’ve received excellent reports.”

“I need to make some notes, and I’d love some of that coffee, if you’re still offering.”

“Sure.” She grabbed a sturdy white mug and walked over to a large urn. “Cream?”

“No, thanks.” He took the full mug she handed him. “Smells great.”

“I’m particular about my coffee.”

“Will you have some with me?”

“That’s actually a good idea.” She fetched another mug and filled it with coffee. “I’m hoping to stay up and watch a movie with Ingrid and Roxanne tonight. Usually I fall asleep halfway through.” She hoisted her mug. “This will help.”

“Yeah, but you still have to get up at three.”

“There’s that. I usually catch up on Sunday.”

“That’s a fallacy. Sleep doesn’t work that way.”

She laughed. “I know. But I pretend it does. Hey, before you get started on your notes, what happened with the dog?”

“I still have her. And that reminds me. I have your scarf in my coat pocket.” He set down his mug and walked back to the coat tree.

“Nobody’s claimed her?”

“Not so far. The vet said she’s healthy and confirmed there’s no microchip. I’ve contacted all the local rescue operations, but I’ve heard nothing back.” He returned with her scarf and handed it to her. “Appreciate the loan. I washed it.”

“That was nice of you.” She laid it on the counter. “If no one shows up, will you keep her?”

“I’m not thinking about that yet. I don’t want to get attached and then have someone show up to claim her.”

“Then I’ll bet you haven’t named her, either.”

“No, ma’am.”

Her smile was warm. “I completely understand. But good luck keeping your distance. She looked like the kind of dog who would steal your heart.”

“Mm.” He wasn’t going to admit that she already had. “Guess I’d better get to work.”

“Do you want me to stay out of your way while you make your notes?”

“Not at all. Please sit with me. That way if I have more questions you’ll be right there.” And whenever he looked up, he’d be able to see her smiling face.

“All right, then.”

The bistro chair was a little small for him, but the coffee, the cookies and the company made up for it. He hauled his laptop out of its case, flipped it open and typed a few sentences to remind him of what he’d seen so far and what he’d investigate as they moved forward.

Then he asked her for a few details—rent payments, utilities, employee wages. Her answers were vague, as if she had no clear idea of those figures and no easily accessible way to check them. When he tried to get an estimate of monthly income, she was even more tentative and seemed to be tensing up.

He shifted gears. “What made you decide to go into this field?”

“Do you need that for your evaluation?”

“No, ma’am. I’m just curious.”

“My mom and I used to bake together all the time. She liked it but I loved it. In culinary school that was all I ever wanted to work on. After graduation, I got a job at a bakery in Rapid City.”

“That’s where you’re from?”

“Yep.”

“So why move here?”

“I didn’t want to compete with that bakery and I would have because this one’s modeled after it. I love the owner, and intentionally or not, I would have taken some of her customers. Maybe a big portion of them.”

“Judging from these cookies and the pastries I had at Christmas, I don’t doubt it.”

“Besides, after my folks died, I didn’t have much reason to stay.”

“Oh.” That’s where the inheritance had come from. He met her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” She reached over and touched his arm. “Don’t feel bad.”

Her touch was brief, but the effect lasted long after she’d moved her hand. He’d wanted her to leave it there. “How long ago?”

“Almost five years. Took me a while to settle the estate. Legalese and paperwork aren’t my long suit.”

Which meant she needed someone to teach her about those things. “Well, they’re mine.”

“I’m counting on it.” She hesitated. “So what do you think? Should we start working on my business plan today or do you want to take what you have and come back to me with recommendations?”

“That depends on you. I’m guessing you asked for this meeting because you’re worried about something. What is it?”

She looked down at her fingers as she laced and unlaced them several times. At last she glanced up at him. “That I’ll run out of money.”

“Is that a real possibility?”

“Yes. I get plenty of business, but every month I spend more than I make. I’ve been subsidizing from the money I had left over after buying all the equipment and remodeling the space. But that’s getting low. When it’s gone…” She shrugged. “I’ll be SOL.”

He took a deep breath. He’d been afraid of something like this. His job was to stay calm and offer suggestions. “Can you estimate how much longer you could go on at this rate?”

“Three months. Two if something unexpected crops up.”

“That gives us some time. Not much, but—”

“Thank you.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have. You said it gives us time. That’s huge. Now I don’t feel so alone.”

Just like that, the relationship turned personal. And warm. Happened fast, too. Made him want to touch her. He didn’t. “That’s because you’re not alone. I’ll do everything I can to keep you from going out of business.”

She smiled. “Just like you rescued a dog from the highway.”

“I consider that completely different.”

“I don’t. You see a person or an animal in trouble and you want to help.”

“Now I’m feeling like the Lone Ranger, which I’m not. I plan to bill you for my services.” Even if he’d do it for free. But he knew without asking that she wouldn’t allow that.

“It’ll be worth every penny if I can keep Pie in the Sky going. I haven’t wanted to face the possibility of losing the business, but I have, now, and I’ll fight to keep that from happening.”

“Good.” He’d fight beside her. “Let’s start with inventory. How much do you sell of each item each day?”

“I have no idea.”

“Seriously?” This was worse than he’d thought.

“Seriously. How am I supposed to keep track of it all?”

“On a computer, paper and pencil, whatever works. But you need to know how much you produce, what goes out the door, and what’s left at the end of the day. Your employees can help with counting what goes in the case. Deduct what’s left at the end of the day from your totals to figure out how much of each item you sold.”

“I guess I could do that.”

“That’s all I’m asking for now. I’ll come back on Saturday afternoon at four and we’ll evaluate.”

“You don’t want to draw up a business plan?”

“Not until we know what’s going out the door. We need that measurement before we proceed.”

“Like I said, paperwork is not my long suit.”

“I understand that. But it’s almost impossible to evaluate how a business is doing without some data. You could pay me to come in here for the rest of the week and collect it for you, but that would be very expensive.”

Arms crossed, she frowned and stared into space. “I really do hate paperwork.”

“You don’t have to do it. No one’s forcing you.” But don’t quit on me before we even get started.

Her shoulders dropped. “I want you to work on this with me. I’ll gather the numbers for you.”

“Trust me, Abigail. Once you have a handle on how your business truly operates, you’ll be in a much stronger position.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Please do.” Glancing at the time on his phone, he reluctantly shoved back his chair. “I should be on my way. I need to pick up the dog at Wild Creek Ranch.”

“Kendra’s watching her?”

“Yes, ma’am. When I told her about the dog she figured out I was a little worried about leaving the pup alone.”

“And she offered to dog-sit. That sounds like Kendra.” Abigail stood and he got to his feet, too. “I have a few brownies left in the case and she loves those.” Rounding the counter, she walked into the kitchen. “I’ll package them up.”

“Great idea.” He fetched his hat and jacket before returning to the display case. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

“I can’t help myself. Giving people what I’ve baked makes me happy.” She came back with two flattened boxes.

“But I’m paying for the brownies.” He reached for the wallet in his hip pocket.

“Put your money away. Consider it my contribution to your rescue efforts.” She quickly assembled one box and transferred the brownies into it.

“Well…thanks.” He understood the urge to help only too well. “But what’s the other box for?”

“The rest of your cookies.”

“For Kendra?”

“No, for you. Kendra prefers chocolate goodies.”

“Oh. But I’ve already eaten at least six, maybe seven.”

She paused to give him an amused glance. “Is that your limit?”

“No, ma’am, but—”

“I always intended to send the rest home with you. Please take them with my blessing.” She taped both boxes shut and handed them over the counter with a quick smile. “See you on Saturday afternoon.”

“Looking forward to it.” Understatement. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

Abigail was talented, hard-working and generous. With his guidance, her business would soon be operating in the black. He lived for challenges like this. The fact that she was extremely appealing was…he laughed at his own joke…icing on the cake.