Chapter 12

• The next morning Sparrow’s Bakery smelled like flour dust, fresh paint, and a slow-roasting storm. Sunlight poured through the front windows in lazy stripes, catching the faint swirl of sugar Sadie flung around like she owned the whole damn town.
• She stood barefoot again — didn’t matter how many times Beau threatened to nail her boots to her feet — in a soft old tank knotted at her waist, cutoff shorts riding high on tan thighs still dusted from the barn. Her hair was twisted up in a sloppy bun, stray pieces curling loose at her neck. She looked like trouble that just woke up sweet.
• Beau was half-hidden behind a stack of lumber by the front window, fitting a new shelf bracket with a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind his ear. He’d been there since sunrise — hammerin’, swearin’ soft under his breath every time she brushed too close.