The following Monday, just as Lily was taking brownies out of the oven, the doorbell rang. Smiling, she ran to the door and peeked through the sidelight. It was the new guy with her delivery of chocolate jimmies. She opened the door with a gooey wrapped brownie in hand. “Here you go. Something for the road.”

“Oh man. That looks great. I was actually going to order some of those Snickadillies you gave me last time.”

She snickered into her hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“Snickerdoodles. Doodles, not dillies.”

“Snicker…whatevers. Same difference. They’re great. Can I get some of those to go?”

“Today? Right now?”

He nodded.

“Sorry.” Her frown said she really was. “I only make what I have orders for. But I could have some ready for you tomorrow,” she added quickly.

“I’m not sure I’d have time to pick them up. I’ve got class right up until work.”

“Oh? You’re still in school?” He looked older.

“For another semester and a half. And…more like back in school. I got injured my first year in college. Lost my scholarship, so had to drop out and work for a few years before I went back.”

“Injured?” But she knew what he meant before the word was out. He was a jock. She should have known by his build. It wasn’t fair to judge every jock by Dustin Briggs. But she’d known too many just like him, and she couldn’t deny her disappointment.

“Yeah. Tore a rotator cuff,” the delivery guy said, rubbing his shoulder as if the injury was fresh. “Twice. Surgery. Put an end to my baseball career. Or maybe I should say my dreams of a baseball career. Didn’t really have a chance to find out if I was actually any good. But it was the end of my scholarship for sure.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t really, but it seemed like the right thing to say to a jock for whom sports usually equaled life.

He shrugged. “Long time ago. No biggie. Anyway, I’ll graduate next December.”

“Oh. That’s good.” She scrambled back to a safer topic. “Well, um… You could pick up cookies…Snickerdoodles”—she grinned—“when you deliver here tomorrow.”

“Oh? You expect another delivery tomorrow?”

Busted. “Um. Yes. I… I like to get my ingredients fresh.” Oh, brother, O’Neal. Like he’s not going to see right through that one?

“Okay. Then, sure. I’ll take a dozen.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “No, make it two. Can you do that?”

“Sure. I’ll have them ready for you. About this same time?”

“Should be. Yes. Can you take a credit card?”

“I can.”

“Great. See you tomorrow then.” He backed off the porch with a little wave.

Watching him trot to the truck, she felt a little guilty. As if she’d tricked him into ordering the cookies. Snickadillies. She laughed out loud, remembering his name for them. Fudge appeared around the corner and stared at her like she was crazy.

Her guilt was quickly overshadowed by anticipation of seeing him again tomorrow. Him. Good grief. She had a major-league crush on the guy, and she didn’t even know his name.

* * *

The next day he delivered her order of Easter pastel candy confetti in exchange for two dozen Snickerdoodles. “Two baker’s dozen.”

“Baker’s dozen?”

“Yes. You know? Thirteen. Well, twenty-six in your case. Don’t you know what a baker’s dozen is?”

“I’ve heard it before. Just never knew what it meant. Does that cost extra?”

“No. Of course not. That’s kind of the point. The baker throws in an extra item per dozen. Free.” Did he think she was trying to cheat him or something?

He set the box of supplies on the counter and pointed to the label. “Are you Lily?”

“I’m Lily. Lilybeth is my mom. Lilybeth’s Confections to be official. I know…it’s a mouthful. I’m named after my mom. But she goes by Beth. I’m just Lily.” Good grief, she was rattling on like a telemarketer with a timed script.

“Lilybeth, huh? My mom was Marybeth.”

“Really? Wait… Was?” She could have kicked herself for being so blunt.

Especially when his eyes hinted at the truth. “She died when I was thirteen. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “She’s in heaven. I’m just glad my dad and I had her as long as we did.” His soft smile said he was accustomed to explaining. And it touched her that he spoke of his mom with such love. “Dad’s there with her now. It helps knowing they’re together.” That half-shrug again.

Oh, no. He was too young to have lost both of his parents. “Yes. I think that would make it easier. But still… They must have been so young.”

“Too young. That’s for sure.” He slipped his phone partway out of his pocket and checked the time. “I probably should get going. I’ve got a pretty heavy day today.”

“Of course. Well… Don’t work too hard.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He popped an earbud out of his breast pocket. “I always have a good book going. Makes the time fly.”

“You’re lucky they let you read at work.”

“It’s not exactly reading. The only rule is we can’t deliver with earbuds… In case the customer needs to talk to us. Or flag us down.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah.” He looked toward the front door. “I’d better go.”

“Um…” She eyed the neatly bagged cookies in his hand. “Did you say you wanted to pay with a credit card?” She wouldn’t let on she cared more about figuring out his name than actually receiving payment.

“Oh! Sorry about that.” He practically squirmed. “I really wasn’t trying to run off without paying. I got distracted…” He dug in his hip pocket. “I think I’ve got the cash.”

Shoot. She’d never find out his name at this rate. Since when had those uniforms with the wearer’s name clearly embroidered on the lapel gone out of style?

“Yeah. Here you go.” He handed her a ten and a five. “Keep the change.”

“I can make change.”

“No, seriously. I’d rather not mess with it. It’s only a few cents.”

“Two dollars and fifty-three cents to be exact.”

He looked at the receipt stapled to the bag. “No problem. I’ve tasted the product. Well worth every penny.” He tossed her that winsome grin of his.

“Okay, well… Thank you.” She tucked the money in the pocket of her apron. “I appreciate the order. Tell your friends.”

“Oh, I will. Do you have a business card? I could give some out.”

“Sure. Hang on.” She went around the island to her desk where Fudge was napping. The cat barely budged when she scooted him over, but when she retrieved her business card holder from underneath his tail, he hopped down. She peeled off half a dozen cards, took them back and handed them to the delivery guy.

Would it be too forward to ask if he had a card? It wasn’t like she could help him out by sharing his card with her friends. But how else was she ever going to find out his name. Good grief, O’Neal… Why don’t you just ask him like any normal woman would.

Meowrrr!

“What the—” The guy jumped a foot in the air, and came down hard, his gaze darting in every direction, then finally settling on Fudge. The two glared at each other.

“You must have stepped on his tail.”

“I didn’t even see him. Sorry!”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Is he okay?” He eyed Fudge warily.

The cat hissed at him, and he took a quick step backward

“He’s fine. I’m sorry.”

“I…I really need to get going. Sorry again.” He backed into the hallway.

“I’ll let you out. Hang on though… Let me get Fudge.”

The guy held up a hand, palm out. “Oh, no fudge. Thanks anyway, but I’ll be stuffed after I eat these cookies.”

Lily giggled. “No… That’s the cat’s name. I don’t want him to get out. He’s somewhat of an escape artist,” she explained.

“Fudge, huh? Good name for him. His color and everything.”

“Thanks. He was just a kitten when we got him. I was sixteen. Fudge and I kind of grew up together.”

“Wow. He’s pretty old in cat years then, huh?”

She propped her hands on the waistband of her apron. “Hang on! How old do you think I am anyway?”

“I didn’t mean that. It’s just… Aren’t cat years like dog years? Seven for every human year, or something like that?”

“It’s more complicated than that. A cat’s first year is like twenty-four. After that, it’s four years for every human year. So Fudge is…let’s see…” She counted on her fingers. “He’d be fifty-six.” The answer stunned her. Fudge was an old man!

* * *

Gage was doing math too. Fifty-six minus twenty-four was thirty-two. Divided by four was eight, plus sixteen… So Lily was twenty-four. Now he had her age and her name, address, and phone number—he fingered the little stack of business cards in his pocket—times six. Progress.

He looked up to see her forehead furrowed as if she was reading his thoughts. Scrambling for a way to change the subject, he glanced over at Fudge. “I didn’t know you could have a cat in a bakery.”

Her eyes grew wide and she launched into defense mode. “He never gets up on anything. He stays in the other parts of the house most of the time. The only reason he was on my desk today is because I was—”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m planning to report you to the health department or anything. Or the FBI.” He swallowed the laughter that wanted to come. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Please don’t turn me in. Fudge really doesn’t go around the bakery equipment at all. He stays off of all the cooking surfaces and—”

“Hey! I said I wouldn’t tell. Sorry I brought it up. I was just curious.”

“Oh. Well…” She looked sheepish. “The answer is no. He’s not really supposed to be in the kitchen. I’ll be sure he’s locked up next time you come.”

“Lily, I wasn’t complaining. It was just a question. Just making conversation, okay?”

She released a sigh. “Okay. Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”

“You could say that.” He worked to keep from rolling his eyes.

Apparently not hard enough. She glared at him. “You don’t have to be sarcastic about it.”

Gage glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the truck, plotting his escape. “I really do need to get going.”

“Okay. Sorry.” She mumbled something he couldn’t understand, her lips firming into a tight line.

She followed him to the door and though he couldn’t have sworn to it, he was pretty sure she slammed it behind him.

So much for all that data he’d collected on Lily O’Neal.

Maybe it was for the best. Even if he’d thought he was ready to step back into the murky waters of dating, this wasn’t a good time.