The Sweet Spot

2

;)

The next morning, I was still replaying yesterday's events in my head. Oliver Steele—the Oliver Steele—had not only walked into my humble little bakery, but he had also critiqued my carrot cake and called me "Little Rabbit." The nerve of him! Sure, he was famous, a culinary genius, according to the articles I found online. But that didn't give him the right to waltz into my bakery and tear apart my hard work like it was nothing.

I tried to focus on my routine. Morning prep was always a whirlwind—sifting flour, measuring sugar, kneading dough—there wasn't much time for distractions. But today, even the familiar rhythm of baking couldn't settle my nerves. My mind kept drifting back to that encounter, wondering if I'd see him again. Not that I wanted to, of course. The man was insufferable.

"Mommy, can I have a muffin today?" Elliot's small voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood by the counter, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that always seemed to know exactly when I needed a smile.

I laughed softly, reaching down to pick him up and give him a hug. "Of course you can, sweetheart. You've been such a good helper lately."

He grinned, wriggling out of my arms and heading straight for the basket of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Watching him, I felt a little of the tension in my chest ease. Elliot was my rock. No matter how stressful things got, his smile could always make everything seem just a little bit better.

As I opened the bakery doors, the cool morning air swept in, bringing with it the familiar sounds of Willow Creek coming to life. People were walking their dogs, kids were heading to school, and shop owners were opening up for the day. Willow Creek was the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and there was a comfort in that, even if it did mean that news spread fast—sometimes too fast.

The bell above the door jingled as my first customer of the day entered. It was Mrs. Patterson, one of my regulars. She was in her late sixties, always impeccably dressed, and loved to gossip about everyone in town.

"Good morning, Charlotte!" she said brightly, already eyeing the display case. "What delicious treats do you have for me today?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Patterson. I just baked a fresh batch of lemon scones. Would you like one with your usual coffee?"

"Oh, that sounds divine," she replied, nodding eagerly. As I prepared her order, Mrs. Patterson leaned closer to the counter, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have you heard about the new tenant at the old manor on the edge of town?"

I froze for just a second, but I quickly recovered, pretending to be busy with the coffee machine. "I've heard a little," I said nonchalantly. "Someone new moved in, right?"

Mrs. Patterson's eyes twinkled with excitement. "Oh, it's not just someone, dear. It's Oliver Steele! You know, the famous chef? There's been talk all over town about why he's here. Some say he's hiding out after that scandal in New York."

I forced a smile, handing her the cup of coffee and the scone. "I think I've heard something about that."

Mrs. Patterson didn't notice the slight edge to my voice. "Well, I'll tell you this, Charlotte, if anyone can bring some excitement to Willow Creek, it's him. Can you imagine? A world-famous chef living right here in our little town. Maybe he'll even stop by for one of your delicious pies! Oh, I can already see it—'Sweet Dreams Bakery, endorsed by Oliver Steele!'"

I laughed nervously, trying to play along. "That would be something, wouldn't it?"

After Mrs. Patterson left, the bakery was quiet again. Too quiet. I busied myself wiping down the counters, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Oliver. I was sure the gossip would spread quickly, and soon enough, everyone in town would know about his less-than-friendly visit to my bakery.

Just as I was about to take a deep breath and let the whole thing go, the doorbell chimed again. I looked up, half expecting to see another regular customer or maybe even a group of teenagers from the high school down the road.

But it wasn't.

There he was again—Oliver Steele, in all his gruff glory. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes scanning the bakery with that same critical gaze from the day before. My heart sank. What was he doing back here?

I plastered on my best professional smile, though I could feel the tension creeping into my shoulders. "Good morning. Can I help you?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked slowly over to the counter, looking at the display case as if he were assessing some sort of crime scene. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"Any chance you fixed that carrot cake?"

I blinked, taken aback. Was he serious? "I didn't realize it needed fixing," I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "Most people around here seem to like it just fine."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by my response. "Most people don't know the difference between good and great. You, on the other hand, should."

I felt my cheeks flush. Who did he think he was, coming in here and criticizing me again? I crossed my arms over my chest, matching his stance. "Look, I'm sure you know all about fancy, five-star restaurants and gourmet cuisine, but this is a small-town bakery. People here like simple things."

Oliver let out a low chuckle, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if he was amused or just being condescending. "Simple doesn't mean mediocre, Little Rabbit."

There it was again—Little Rabbit. That ridiculous nickname he had decided to give me for reasons I couldn't fathom. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to keep my cool.

"Is there a reason you came back today?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from my carrot cake.

He shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the display case. "I'm trying to decide if this place has potential."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Potential for what?"

He met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something in his expression—something beyond the gruff exterior. "For growth," he said simply.

Before I could respond, he nodded toward the back of the bakery. "You've got a good setup here. You just need to refine a few things. But I'll admit, there's something... charming about it."

I wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment or another veiled critique, but either way, it caught me off guard. "Charming?" I echoed, a little surprised.

He nodded, his gaze briefly softening as it drifted over the cozy atmosphere of Sweet Dreams. "Yeah. It's got heart."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Oliver Steele—the same man who had torn apart my carrot cake yesterday—was now standing in my bakery, calling it charming. I didn't trust him, not entirely, but I couldn't deny that there was something intriguing about him. Something that made me wonder why a man like him, with his reputation and his past, would care enough to offer advice on a small-town bakery like mine.

But before I could ask him more, the door swung open again, and a group of teenagers walked in, filling the bakery with noise and laughter. Oliver glanced at them, then back at me.

"Looks like you're busy," he said, his tone returning to its usual gruffness. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try to fix that cake, will you?"

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there, once again, completely speechless.

I watched as he disappeared down the street, my mind racing with questions. What was his deal? Why did he care so much about my baking? And why on earth did he keep coming back?

As the teenagers crowded around the counter, chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. Oliver Steele was back in Willow Creek for a reason, and whether I liked it or not, it seemed like he wasn't going to leave my bakery alone anytime soon.

And, to my surprise, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted him to.

any thoughts ?