Chapter 31

• The bell over Sparrow’s squeaked soft when he pushed through the door at six a.m., arms full, boots thumpin’ on the scuffed tile she’d half-finished scrubbing last week. The new sign out front still smelled like fresh paint — Sparrow’s Bakery, bold and pretty, the name that’d keep her mama’s nickname warm long after the last biscuit cooled.
• Sadie was bent over the big mixing table, hair twisted up in a loose knot that’d come undone before noon if she kept fussin’ with it. She had flour on her cheekbone, a smear of buttercream on her wrist, bare legs peeking out under the hem of an old skirt she’d tugged on half-awake just to beat the morning sun. She didn’t hear him at first — too busy muttering to herself about measure twice, cut once, don’t burn the damn scones.
• Beau cleared his throat when he set the big box down on the edge of the counter — an old pie box, carefully packed, steam still clingin’ to the wax paper tucked inside. She jerked halfway upright, elbow nearly knockin’ the flour tin off the shelf behind her.