“I know how she feels. Work can be all-consuming. It’s hard to remember there’s more to life than the show.”

“ ‘The show’?”

“Oh, I just meant, like, work can be a sort of circus show . . . You know?” Charlie sipped her water, hoping Jake didn’t notice she was flustered.

“I can only imagine.” Jake took a canvas pouch from his small backpack and opened the sides until it formed a square-shaped bowl. “Things can get intense at the fire station, but I get days off. Which seems like a tough thing to manage when you own a bakery.”

“It’s hard to take a break,” Charlie said, thinking of Cass and how this was the longest she’d ever been away from the bakery. She wondered if her twin was missing her regular routines in Starlight Peak. “There’s always more to do.”

Jake nodded. “Especially when you love what you do.”

“I do love it.” Charlie, of course, meant her career in L.A., but between the familiarity of home, the bakery’s comforting predictability, and being here at the top of the peak with Jake and Bonnie, breathing in the fresh winter air . . . she could almost imagine an alternate reality. Here in Starlight Peak, with Jake.

Jake poured water into the bowl, and Bonnie eagerly came over and sniffed, clearly hoping for something delicious. But rather than have a drink of the water, she started to eat mouthfuls of snow from right beside the bowl. They both laughed, and Jake shook his head.

“I’m still adjusting to this one,” he said, patting Bonnie on the back while she licked at the snow. “Cody was a puppy when we got him, so I trained him from the start.”

At Jake saying “we” Charlie’s stomach clenched as she thought of the beautiful woman in the photos on Jake’s camera.

“Cody was your dog before Bonnie?”

“Well, I guess he’s my dog still, technically,” Jake replied, capping his water and sticking it back into his pack. “But he lives with my ex. It wouldn’t have been fair to drag him here.” His mouth twisted like he’d eaten something sour, and suddenly Charlie realized what Faye had meant about the “custody” situation. It was about Cody the German shepherd.

“Cody looked like a real sweetheart. Especially with that one floppy ear,” Charlie said. “I don’t know the circumstances, but that must have been so hard. To leave him behind.”

Jake squinted in the sunshine, and then made a snowball to throw for Bonnie, who delightedly chased it, barking as she did. “It was. It is, I guess.” He threw another snowball. “But it’s not all bad,” he added. Charlie flushed at his words, and at the way he flashed her a smile when he said them.

Jake was just about to throw yet another snowball for Bonnie when he turned toward her. “Hang on . . . How do you know Cody had one floppy ear?”

Charlie started to stutter out a reply, then held up her hands. “Okay, full disclosure. I may have taken a peek at your photos before I brought the camera back. I wasn’t prying, I promise. I just . . . I saw the pictures you took of the bakery, of me, and I scrolled back a bit too far. Sorry. I know it’s really none of my business.”