She opened her mouth to ask but totally lost her nerve. She told herself that it didn’t matter. Liar. Liar. Instead, she said, “So we’re in agreement that the kiss was a mistake and it shouldn’t happen again?”

He was quiet for a moment—longer than was necessary—as though he was actually giving the question some serious thought. Finally, he said, “It won’t happen again.”

She nodded in agreement. “Can we pretend like it never happened?”

“If it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

He pried up a floor tile, then he turned to her. His gaze lowered to the pastry box in her hands. “Looks like you’ve been busy. Who’s the lucky person?”

“You. If you want them.”

“What flavor are they?”

She lifted the lid and tilted the box so he could see inside. “Blueberry muffins.”

“They look good.” His voice lacked emotion.

She wondered how long this awkwardness would last. “I’ll just put them here on the counter.” As an ominous silence settled over them, she said, “What can I do to help?”

“I leaned the mirror against the wall in the front room, you could work on it.”

Her heart gave an excited leap at the memory of the giant mirror she’d bought at the estate sale. She liked to think of it as a jewel in the rough. It was going to take a lot of work to make it look like new, but then again is that what she wanted? Something new? Or something with a story of its own written in each crack and crevice of the ornate frame?

Beauty is found in the flaws. It was something her grandmother used to tell her.

So perhaps there wasn’t that much work involved. She could work on the large chips and cracks but leave the smaller ones to add character just like laugh lines added to a woman’s beauty.

In the end, the mirror would complement the chandelier. But it was going to have to wait a little longer.

“I can start it after lunch,” she said.

He paused and glanced at the time on his phone as though he couldn’t believe it was lunchtime already. “It is noon.”

She wanted to slip away and avoid him until he left town, but it was impossible. Aside from them living across the hall from each other, she’d promised to do her part to help with the bakery. She’d just have to pull up her big girl panties and get on with things.

“I’m going to grab something to eat across the street at Hamming It Up,” she said. “Can I grab you something?”

“You don’t have to bother.”

“I don’t mind.” It was the truth.

He paused to give it some thought. “I’m not picky. Surprise me.”

“A couple of sandwiches coming up.”

“Sounds good. It’s become my favorite deli. And could you get me a pickle spear?”

“Absolutely. I always get one with my order. I’ll be right back.”

And so she rushed across the street to the deli, which was busy as usual. But they had a few people working the counter while there were more in back making sandwiches, so the wait wasn’t that long.