She was stuffed and happy when they made it to the desserts. Fabrizio had sent mini Cassata Sicilianas, which were sponge cakes moistened with fruit juices and liqueurs, layered with sweet, creamy ricotta and studded with candied fruit that reminded her of Starlight Bread. There were also babas—small yeast cakes saturated in syrup and rum and filled with cream. Cass took a heavenly bite of the rum cake, then stared down at her plate, lost in thought as the happiness gave way to a bittersweet sense of melancholy she wished would go away.

“Everyone has a different reaction to the desserts at Fabrizio’s,” Miguel said, watching her. “But I’ve never seen anyone look quite so sad.”

She shook her head. “I promise you, I’m happy. I’m just thinking about how much work I still have to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I test run the recipes for the next day’s show every night at home, just to make sure there are no kinks. And I still have to do that.”

“Which means . . .” Miguel said, standing and beginning to clear plates. “That I should wash up and get out of here, so you aren’t up all night.”

“Wait,” Cass said, not ready for their night together to be over yet. “It’s nice having the company. And besides, you inspire me.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back—not because they weren’t true, but because they were. She had told herself that she had to start reining in things with Miguel, that it wasn’t fair to him and it certainly wasn’t going to be fair to her sister to have to deal with this when she returned to L.A.

But that was before he had come to her door with dinner and turned a good day into a great one. That was before she had seen his handsome face again and realized how much she had missed him, even after just one day. “Any chance you’d like to stick around and be my assistant?”

The grin on Miguel’s face was a perfect reward. “I’d love that,” he said. “What’s on the menu?”

She picked up her phone and opened the recipe file. “Well, my sis—I mean, I have a sugarplum layer cake planned for tomorrow. But I was thinking maybe I could add one more element, just to give it some pizzazz and definitely outshine Austin’s recipe. This Cassata Siciliana gave me an idea, actually. The flavors remind me of one of our most important creations at the bakery my family runs in Starlight Peak.” As she explained Starlight Bread to Miguel, his eyes danced.

“I’d love to experience a Starlight Peak Christmas Eve,” he said. “That bread sounds amazing. The whole place sounds amazing.”

She held his gaze. “It really is,” she said, imagining Miguel in her hometown. “I’d love that, too.” She turned away and focused on gathering the ingredients she needed for the recipe, trying to ignore the lump that had formed in her throat. “I just need to figure out how to add the elements of Starlight Bread into this recipe . . .”