“No, you deserve a raise, but you know things have been slow around here. We’re already short on staff just to stay open. But I’ll take a look at the books, okay? I’ll see what I can do.” Maybe the bakery wasn’t as busy as it once was, but I’d honestly thought he was just being cheap before. Now I felt greedy, asking more if the bakery was truly struggling. Even if he did find me an extra fifty cents an hour, it wasn’t going to solve my cash-flow problems.

“Thanks, Rick. You’re a good guy.” I was relieved to see the creases ease from his face. Worry didn’t look good on him. On a whim I kissed his cheek. He caught my arm as I pulled back.

“You smell like sugar,” he murmured. My breath caught. What the hell was he doing?

I tried to laugh. “Everything here smells like sugar.”

“I’m glad you told me what the problem was. I’ll do what I can, but I wish it was more.” I wish it was enough was what I heard in his voice. And sadness.

I wasn’t sure I could handle the cause of it. Aiming for casual, I leaned back, and he loosened his grip on my arm.

“You do plenty,” I said. “Where would I be without this job?”

“Not seeing my sorry ass every day, that’s for sure.” He turned and went back into his office. His words were light enough but without any real good humor.

Rick could be a jerk sometimes, but mostly he was decent. And happy. After all, a guy who owned a bakery but didn’t bake, that was right out of one of Bailey’s Dr. Seuss books. But money was tight, and maybe the bakery was in trouble. Colin was right—everyone had problems.

Outside the back door of the bakery, I checked left and right along the alleyway. Empty as usual. I walked along the brick wall, skirting away from the smelly Dumpsters until I reached the employee parking lot. I got in my car and breathed in some air. It was musty but safe.

I drove home on autopilot, shedding the tension of work and worry in anticipation of seeing Bailey. When I got out of the car and headed for the stairs, I had almost forgotten to check my surroundings. Out of habit, I turned my head. And froze.

“Hey, Allie.” Andrew leaned against the wall.

That carefree smile. Those sparkling blue eyes. The face that was as known to me as my own. The one I saw hints of in my daughter, who was right upstairs.

My body, ever the traitor, wanted to turn and run. Get away, it shouted. As if in exclamation, chills rippled through my skin.