No sooner had Lily O’Neal plunged her hands into the sticky bread dough than the doorbell rang. Why did it always work that way? She considered ignoring the bell, but she didn’t want to risk losing a good client. She tossed a clean linen towel over the large mixing bowl, and wiping her hands as best she could, hurried through the house to the front door, dishrag still in hand.

The delivery guy was halfway back to his van, and a large box waited on the front porch. She watched as the driver opened the van’s sliding door and rearranged some boxes. It wasn’t Sid, the paunchy middle-aged man who usually drove. This guy was much younger. And given that his uniform was khaki cargo shorts, she couldn’t help notice the muscles in his tanned calves. And biceps that threatened to rip the short sleeves of his uniform shirt. Speaking of ripped, the guy was. And though she couldn’t see his features, his thick dishwater blond hair looked like it might go with a face that was easy on the eyes.

She frowned. He was probably married with three kids. Seemed like all the good ones were. She lugged the box inside, trying not to let the errant thought ruin her day. After all, she had all those weddings and baby showers of the married-with-three-kids crowd to thank for the thriving business she ran. One that allowed her at least one of her lifelong dreams: living right here in her hometown of Langhorne, Missouri. Lilybeth’s Confections was a solid business too, one that fed a reasonably healthy bank account. No small feat in a town the size of Langhorne. Of course, some of her business came from nearby Cape Girardeau.

She also owed a huge debt of gratitude to her parents—for this house and its state-of-the-art kitchen that had allowed her to turn a beloved hobby into a bona fide business right out of college. Her bank account would have been on life support without the rent-free status she enjoyed while her parents spent an extended—she suspected permanent—stay in Haiti as missionaries to a small orphanage near Port au Prince.

Her dad, bless his sweet heart, had even tried to pay her for “babysitting” the house and Fudge, the overweight tomcat they’d left behind. Lily had a feeling they missed that cat as much as they did her.

Right on cue, Fudge waddled in to the kitchen. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be in here, but besides being an indoor-only cat and up-to-date on all his shots, he’d been well-trained to stay off the countertops. What the health department didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right? And she’d never once had a complaint from a customer.

She opened the box, unpacking the weekly shipment of baking items.

As an only child—and one who’d come along when her parents had almost given up hope of ever having a baby—Lily knew she’d been spoiled. By Mom especially. She tried to appreciate the fact, but she was beginning to realize they’d done her no favors by giving her everything she wanted the instant she wanted it, and never letting her work for something, yearn for something. Maybe that was why God was making her wait and yearn for the one thing she truly longed for—and couldn’t seem to obtain.

A man.

More specifically, a husband. She’d dated a few men, even thought she loved one of them. But apparently the feeling wasn’t mutual, and she’d broken things off with Dustin before he could break her heart. And maybe it was for the best. After all, if he couldn’t break her heart, could she really have loved him all that much?

But how sad was it that if she finally met the real man of her dreams, she’d only know it when she discovered he had the power to break her heart.

“You’ve got the right idea, Fudge.” She scooped the cat into her lap, stroking his soft, fudge-colored fur. “Just stay single and be done with it. No sense complicating things. It’s easier this way. Status quo. Nobody gets hurt.”

Fudge squirmed in her arms and twisted to look up at her. Lily could have sworn by the look in his feline eyes, that he was calling her out on her lie.

“Yeah, you’re right, buddy. I can’t fool you, can I? It does hurt. Like crazy.”

* * *

“Don’t worry, I’ll have them ready. Thanks again for your business.” Lily hung up the phone and scribbled a note on her calendar. Easter orders were piling up, and even though she had supplies coming today, she’d need to double up on next week’s order. She checked on the cookies in the oven then sat down at the desk and adjusted her online order before pressing send.

The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer, checking her hair in the hall mirror before opening the door. If it was the new delivery guy, she wanted to see firsthand if he was as cute from the front as he was from behind.

“Oh, hi.” It was him all right. And he was indeed. Maybe even cuter. He waved with his free hand and slid the box from his shoulder onto the porch.

“Thanks. I’ve got it.” She stooped to lift the package.

He started to leave, then took a step back toward her. “It’s pretty heavy. You want some help getting it inside?”

“Um…sure.” She’d never met a box she couldn’t heft, but he didn’t need to know that. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great. I’ll get the door.”

“Sure.” He picked up the box as if it was full of air and followed her inside.

They were halfway to the kitchen when she heard her mother’s voice in her head. You don’t even know that man, Lily! For all you know he could be a serial killer. Well, if so, he was the cutest serial killer she’d ever laid eyes on.

She entered the kitchen, keeping one eye on the knife drawer. “You can just set the box here on the island, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.” He looked around as if casing the joint. “Man, this kitchen is huge. Never would have guessed this was back here.” He inhaled deeply. “Something sure smells good.” His smile made him even cuter if that were possible.

“It’s Snickerdoodles.” As if on cue, the timer dinged. “Hang on…” She opened the oven door, grabbed a pair of mitts, and took out the oversized pan. She slipped a spatula under two perfect cookies and slid them onto a cooling rack. “I’m baking them for my book club tonight, but there’s plenty. Give them a few seconds to cool, and you can take a couple for the road.”

“You’re sure? I wouldn’t want an entire book club mad at me if you run short.”

She laughed. “I’m sure.”

“Thanks.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Who knew the job had perks like this?”

“You’re new?”

He nodded. “Just started. First of April.”

“An April Fool’s joke?”

“No.” His expression turned serious. “That’s just…when the job started.”

“I was only—” She shook her head. “Never mind…lame joke.”

“Ohhh… I get it.”

She scooped three cookies into a sandwich bag, suddenly feeling awkward. “They should be cool enough. Don’t burn your tongue, but they are best warm.”

He slipped one from the bag and took a bite, practically smacking his lips. “Mmm. Better than they smell even. Which is pretty amazing.”

“Thanks.”

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d better get going. Don’t want to get fired my first week.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Well, have fun with your book club.”

“Thanks. I’ll try.” How lame did that make her sound? Her social life consisted of a book club? She wanted to explain that she’d inherited the book club from her mom. But that sounded even lamer. And she did like the group. It was made up mostly of women from their church. Women who’d become her dear friends in the months since her parents had moved to Haiti. But it wasn’t exactly the social life she’d dreamed of. Well, maybe in some ways, it was. She’d just always hoped there would be a husband in the basement entertaining five kids—four boys and a baby girl, as long as she was dreaming—while the book club had riveting discussions over wine and cheese and Snickerdoodles upstairs. The thought made her giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

She started. “Oh… Nothing. Sorry, just thinking about…book club.”

“Must be quite a book you’re reading.”

She scrambled to think of a witty comeback, and failing, pretended she hadn’t heard him. She walked him to the door, then stood there watching him jog back to the delivery truck.

The man was so handsome. And nice too. Well, at least what she knew of him from their brief interaction. He pulled away from the curb, and she stood there watching until the truck was out of sight. Closing the door, she remembered the baking supplies she’d ordered only moments ago.

What if she…? The idea was crazy. And yet, he was so handsome.

She hurried to her laptop and canceled the order. Once the cancellation went through, she reordered only the cake and cookie sprinkles. Tomorrow she would order her extracts. And the day after that, the food coloring pastes. The supplier’s free shipping policy made her idea a no-brainer. In fact, she might be a genius.

Fudge’s whiskers appeared around the corner. He tipped his head and stared at her.

“Hey, don’t you judge.” She shook a finger at him. “This will be our little secret, you hear? You just keep quiet.”

His plaintive meow did not give her confidence that she could trust the cat.

* * *

Gage Simmons licked the last cinnamony cookie crumbs from his lip and turned the truck back toward the distribution center. He wondered if he would be in trouble if his boss knew he’d accepted a gift from a client. But cookies were consumables. That wouldn’t really be considered a gift, would it? He’d barely skimmed the employee handbook, given that he had four chapters to read in his Human Anatomy and Physiology textbook and a paper to write for his Therapeutic Modalities course—all before eight a.m. on Monday.

This going to school while working almost full-time was for the birds. But this semester’s tuition and books had quickly burned through the last of the money he’d saved toward college, and as it turned out, he wasn’t going to graduate in four years like his advisors had promised. After this year, he’d still have another semester to go—if this one didn’t kill him first.

He’d been grateful to find a job with afternoon and evening hours, but the class load he’d taken on this semester was brutal. Still, the end was in sight. Of school anyway. Then he just had to find a real job. Thanks to a former Mizzou teammate, he’d had a lead. Well, a lead on an internship. But it was a paying position with a small private college in Omaha, and ultimately, they were looking for a head athletic trainer, not just an assistant. He’d have been working with an actual sports teams. Not baseball. Not his first love.

Okay, so it was women’s athletics. But hey, it would have been a place to start. Unfortunately, the HR department had called him last week and told him they’d given the job to another guy. But there would be other opportunities like it. He felt sure. He just had to be patient. Thanks, God. Patience. The one thing I’m really not good at.

He checked the lane beside him and when he was sure it was clear, he steadied the steering wheel with his knees. He crumpled the empty cookie bag and stuffed it in the pocket of his uniform khakis with a wry smile. The lady at the coffee shop had given him a bag of donut holes for the road, and then he’d scored these cinnamon-flecked delights. What had the girl called them? Snickadillies? Whatever they were, he wouldn’t mind another one. If he played his cards right, he might not have to buy groceries the rest of the semester.

He smiled again, thinking of the Snickadillie girl. Lily O’Neal, according to her shipping labels. Nice name. Nice girl. And she smelled good too. Or maybe it was just the house that smelled so amazing. Judging by the size of the order—and the looks of the state-of-the-art kitchen—she ran a full-on bakery.

Or maybe she wasn’t Lily. Maybe she just worked for Lily who lived there? The girl did seem awfully young to own a house that nice. Whatever. He’d have to remember to order a dozen of those cookies to-go next time he delivered to the house.

Whatever her name was, he hoped it would be her—the girl with the gorgeous hazel eyes—who answered the door next time.

Cut it out, Simmons. Are you a glutton for punishment? He’d been burned once by a girl with hazel eyes. Why could he not seem to resist their draw? He rubbed his face and reached into his breast pocket to fish out his earbuds. Maybe the book he was listening to would clear his mind, bring him back to his senses.

But ten minutes into Chapter Six, the girl from the house bakery was in his head again. He turned off the audio and yanked out the earbuds. The girl seemed different somehow. Her smile held no guile, and even though she’d most definitely been flirting with him, it wasn’t that manipulative brand of flirtation. Not like Sabine.