The Sweet Spot

5

It was a crisp, bright morning in Willow Creek, the kind of day that made everything seem possible. The sun shone through the bakery's windows, casting a golden glow over the rows of pastries and freshly baked bread. But despite the beauty of the day, there was a hum of nervous energy in the air that I couldn't shake.

The town's annual food fair was just around the corner, and as much as I wanted to be excited, the thought of competing in the fair made my stomach churn. This wasn't just a little bake sale. The food fair was a huge deal in Willow Creek, and it drew people from neighboring towns. The competition was fierce, with every restaurant, food truck, and bakery vying for the top prize: a feature in the local paper and a cash reward that could really help boost my business.

Sweet Dreams needed this. If I could win—or even place in the top three—it could bring in the kind of attention and customers I'd been dreaming about for months. But the fear of failure loomed large. What if I didn't win? What if my pastries weren't good enough? The what-ifs were endless, and they weighed heavily on me.

I was standing behind the counter, deep in thought, when the bell above the door jingled, pulling me out of my worries. I looked up, half expecting another customer, but of course, it was Oliver Steele.

As usual, he strolled in like he owned the place, his dark eyes scanning the bakery before settling on me. There was a faint smirk on his face, and I braced myself for whatever critique or comment he had in store today.

"Morning, Little Rabbit," he said, his voice low and gruff, as always.

I sighed, wiping my hands on my apron. "Do you ever knock before you barge into someone's bakery?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You keep the door open. That's practically an invitation."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. As much as Oliver's visits could be infuriating, there was something oddly reassuring about his presence now. It was like he had become a strange fixture in my day-to-day life, his critiques and nicknames part of the routine.

"What are you baking today?" he asked, leaning against the counter and eyeing the display case.

"Cupcakes, muffins, the usual," I said with a shrug. "Trying to keep up with orders."

He nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could sense something was off. "You seem tense."

"I'm fine," I said quickly, but even I didn't believe it. I turned back to the oven, trying to distract myself with the task of checking on a batch of cookies. But I could feel Oliver's gaze lingering on me, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on.

"You're a terrible liar," he said after a moment.

I let out a sigh, turning back to face him. There was no use pretending I wasn't stressed. Oliver could read people too well, especially when they were trying to hide something.

"It's the food fair," I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm thinking about entering, but... I don't know if I should."

His expression didn't change, but I saw a flicker of interest in his eyes. "The food fair?"

I nodded. "It's a big deal around here. Lots of competition, and honestly, I'm not sure if I'm up for it."

Oliver studied me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, without warning, he let out a low chuckle. "You're scared."

I bristled at his tone. "I'm not scared," I shot back, though the heat rising in my cheeks probably said otherwise. "It's just... a lot of pressure. And if I fail, it could be really bad for the bakery."

He shook his head, still chuckling softly. "You're scared of failing, Little Rabbit. It's written all over your face."

I glared at him, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside me. "It's easy for you to say that. You've already made it. You've already been a big success in your career. You don't understand what it's like to be in my position."

Oliver's expression hardened slightly, and for a moment, I regretted my words. But instead of snapping back at me, he just stared at me, his eyes dark and intense.

"Do you think I've never been scared of failing?" he asked, his voice low but firm. "Do you think I haven't made mistakes that cost me everything?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling guilty. I hadn't meant to accuse him of not understanding, but the truth was, I didn't really know what he had been through. I only knew the public version of his story—the scandal, the fallout, the retreat to Willow Creek. But there was clearly more to it than that.

Oliver took a step closer to the counter, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've failed more times than you can imagine," he said quietly. "And you know what? It doesn't matter. What matters is that you get back up and keep going. If you're too afraid to take risks, you'll never get anywhere."

I bit my lip, not sure how to respond. There was a hard truth in his words, but it didn't make the fear go away. The food fair felt like a massive risk, one that I wasn't sure I was ready to take.

"You should enter," Oliver said, his tone softer now. "You've got something special here. But if you're too afraid to put yourself out there, no one will ever know it."

I blinked, surprised by the rare compliment. Coming from him, it meant something. But still, doubt gnawed at me.

"What if I fail?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

He shrugged. "Then you fail. And you learn from it. But at least you'll know you tried."

I stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. I hated to admit it, but he was right. I had been letting fear hold me back, letting it dictate my decisions. And maybe that was why business had been so slow. Maybe I hadn't been taking enough chances, hadn't been pushing myself to do more than just the "safe" thing.

Oliver's eyes softened just a little as he watched me, and for the first time, I felt like he was speaking to me as a peer, not just some amateur baker who needed constant critique. He understood what I was going through. He'd been there, too.

"Why do you care?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Why are you pushing me to enter?"

For a moment, Oliver's expression grew guarded again, but then he let out a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Because I see potential in you," he said simply. "And because I know what it's like to be afraid of failing. But if you let that fear control you, you'll never move forward."

His words hit me harder than I expected, and for the first time in a while, I felt a spark of determination flare up inside me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to stop playing it safe and take a chance on myself, on my bakery. If I didn't, I'd always wonder what could have been.

I let out a breath, feeling the tension in my chest loosen just a little. "Okay," I said quietly. "I'll enter the food fair."

Oliver gave me a small nod, but there was a hint of approval in his eyes. "Good. Now, stop worrying and get to work. You've got a competition to prepare for."

I smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over me. It wasn't going to be easy, and the fear of failure was still there, but I knew I couldn't let it hold me back any longer.

As Oliver turned to leave, I called after him. "Hey, Oliver?"

He paused at the door, glancing back at me.

"Thanks," I said, my voice soft but sincere.

He gave me one last look, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Don't thank me yet, Little Rabbit. You've still got work to do."

And with that, he was gone.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, my mind racing. The food fair was coming up fast, and there was a lot to do, but for the first time in a while, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could handle it.

Oliver Steele might have been grumpy and impossible, but he was also right.

It was time to take a chance. Time to stop being afraid.

Sweet Dreams Bakery was going to the food fair.

And I was ready to fight for it.