F R E Y A
I flipped the sign on my bakery door to "Open" and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla that was my happy place. Baking had always been my therapy, and after last night's drama, I needed a double dose.
I was just pulling a tray of perfectly golden croissants from the oven when the little bell above the door chimed. I straightened up, a professional smile on my face. "Welcome to 'The Sweet Spot'! What can I get for you?"
But the smile faltered when I looked up. It was him.
Luciano leaned against the doorframe, looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. He had a small, knowing smirk on his face.
"I'm looking for a baker who makes a mean red velvet," He said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. "The sweet spot? I wonde
