The Sweet Spot

15

Oliver's abrupt departure from the bakery left me rooted to the spot, heart pounding as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. The man's thinly veiled threats still echoed in my mind, and now Oliver had charged off to confront Jenna—or whoever was behind this mess—without a second thought.

I rushed to the door and stepped outside, scanning the street for any sign of Oliver. It didn't take long to spot him—he was marching down the sidewalk, his posture rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. I didn't know what he was planning to do, but I knew it couldn't be good.

"Oliver!" I called, hurrying after him. "Wait!"

He didn't stop, didn't even slow down, his strides long and purposeful. I practically had to jog to catch up with him, grabbing his arm just as he reached the corner.

"Oliver, stop," I said breathlessly. "You can't just—"

"I'm not letting this slide, Charlotte," he growled, yanking his arm free but finally turning to face me. His eyes were dark, stormy, filled with a fury I had never seen before. "They think they can threaten you? Your business? That's not happening."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. "I know, but storming over there and starting a fight isn't the answer."

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to rein in his temper. "I won't let them push you around. Not after everything you've worked for."

His words struck a chord deep inside me. There was something raw and protective in his tone, something that stirred emotions I wasn't sure I was ready to face. But this wasn't the time for that.

"Let's just... think this through, okay?" I said, my voice softer now. "I don't want you getting into trouble because of me."

He let out a sharp breath, his jaw still clenched, but after a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. But we're not letting this go."

I nodded, relieved that he was at least willing to listen. "We'll figure it out. Together."

The tension between us didn't disappear, but it shifted. We stood there on the sidewalk, the noise of the town around us fading into the background as we faced each other. There was so much left unsaid between us—about the bakery, about Sam, about whatever was happening between us—but right now, none of that mattered.

For now, we had to deal with the immediate threat.

That night, after the bakery had closed and Elliot was fast asleep upstairs, Oliver and I sat in the dimly lit kitchen, a heavy silence hanging between us. I had spent the rest of the day distracted, going through the motions of running the bakery but unable to shake the unease that had settled in my chest.

Oliver had stayed late, insisting on helping clean up even though we hadn't spoken much since our confrontation outside. Now, as we sat across from each other, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to press down on us both.

"I think it was Jenna," I said finally, breaking the silence. "The man who came in earlier—he mentioned trouble with our supply deliveries. And Jenna's been acting... off lately."

Oliver's expression darkened. "That doesn't surprise me. She's always been ruthless when it comes to competition."

I frowned, my mind racing. "But why now? I mean, we've always been competing, but things never escalated like this before."

Oliver leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. "Because you won the food fair. That put Sweet Dreams on the map in a way she didn't expect. You're a threat now, and Jenna doesn't handle threats well."

I sighed, rubbing my temples as the stress of the day caught up with me. "But threatening us? Trying to sabotage the bakery? That's a whole different level."

Oliver's jaw tightened. "She's desperate. When people like Jenna feel their position slipping, they'll do whatever it takes to hold onto their power."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around it all. "What do we do?"

"We fight back," Oliver said, his voice firm. "But smart. We document everything. Make sure we keep track of any suspicious activity. If she's trying to mess with your business, we'll prove it."

His words were reassuring, but there was still a part of me that was terrified. I had worked so hard to build Sweet Dreams, and now it felt like everything I had built was at risk. But knowing that Oliver was by my side, ready to fight with me, made the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter.

I glanced at him, my heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you. For everything."

Oliver met my gaze, his eyes softening just a fraction. "You don't have to thank me, Charlotte. I'm not letting anyone take this from you."

His voice was low, filled with a quiet intensity that made my chest tighten. There was something unspoken between us, something that had been building for weeks, and now, sitting here in the quiet of the bakery, it felt closer than ever.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything to bridge the gap between us—but before I could speak, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and Elliot appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Mommy?" he mumbled, his voice soft. "Why are you still awake?"

I smiled, my heart swelling with love for him. "Just talking with Mr. Steele, sweetie. You should be in bed."

Elliot padded over to the table, blinking up at Oliver. "Are you gonna teach me more chef stuff tomorrow?"

Oliver smiled—an expression that had become more frequent around Elliot. "If your mom says it's okay, sure."

Elliot grinned, clearly pleased with that answer. "Okay. Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Mr. Steele."

"Goodnight, buddy," Oliver said, watching as Elliot shuffled back toward the stairs.

Once he was gone, the moment between Oliver and me had shifted again. I felt the weight of the unspoken words settle back in, but now wasn't the time to address them. There was too much at stake, too much hanging over us.

But as Oliver stood to leave, something inside me stirred—a realization that had been slowly building over the past few weeks. I couldn't ignore the growing feelings I had for him anymore, not after everything we'd been through together. And I couldn't deny how much I had come to rely on him, not just as a partner in the bakery, but as someone I could trust.

As he reached the door, I stood, my voice coming out before I could stop it. "Oliver?"

He paused, turning to face me, his expression guarded but expectant.

"Thank you," I said again, though this time the words carried more weight than before. "For being here. For everything."

For a moment, Oliver said nothing, his gaze locked on mine. Then, with a small nod, he said, "Always."

And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him.

The next morning, I woke with a sense of unease lingering in the pit of my stomach. The events of the previous day still weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—something bigger than Jenna's threats or the trouble with our supplies.

As I headed downstairs to open the bakery, my phone buzzed on the counter. I picked it up, frowning when I saw a text from Sam.

We need to talk. I have something to tell you.

My heart sank as I read the message. I didn't know what Sam wanted to tell me, but the tone of his message sent a shiver of dread down my spine.

The bakery might have been under threat from Jenna, but now it seemed like my personal life was about to get even more complicated.

And I wasn't sure how much more I could handle.