Charlie held her breath.

“You make my job easy, Cass.” He said it quietly, then quickly turned his attention back to his camera. Charlie wondered if she’d heard him right. Had Jake just admitted that he found her attractive? I think you’re pretty easy on the eyes, too, Jake. Oh, God. Don’t embarrass yourself, Charlie. Besides, he thinks you’re Cass. He doesn’t even really know you . . .

To hide her once-again-flaming cheeks—something that seemed to be happening frequently when Jake was nearby, or even at the mention of his name—Charlie mumbled something about having left something in her car and hightailed it toward the bakery’s back door.

Outside, she leaned against the backyard’s massive oak tree, the one she and Cass had climbed when they’d wanted a break from helping their parents in the bakery. It was cold and almost dark, but she needed a moment to regroup. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered a little, her breath coming out in crystalline puffs in the frigid winter air.

Come on, Charlie. Stop acting like you have a high-school crush. But the truth was, even in high school, Charlie had been more levelheaded about her crushes than this. She needed a day off, even though that was impossible at the moment. It occurred to her that she hadn’t taken a proper day off in . . . She couldn’t even remember the last time.

Charlie startled when a lumbering figure moved toward her. “Oh, hey, Bonnie.” She’d forgotten that Jake’s rescue dog was in the yard, burning off some energy while Jake and Charlie worked inside. Bonnie’s tongue lolled from the side of her mouth, and she looked like she was smiling. Charlie laughed when Bonnie put her furry head under Charlie’s hand and nudged, requesting some attention. She obligingly rubbed behind Bonnie’s ears.

Suddenly Bonnie pulled away, barking and taking off like a shot after something running through the yard. At first glance Charlie thought it was a large black squirrel, until she got a closer look.

Oh no—

That was no squirrel. That was . . .

“Gateau!” Charlie shouted, pushing off the tree and running across the yard after the black streak that was her sister’s cat. But Bonnie was ahead of her, giving gleeful chase. “Bonnie, no! Stop! Halt? Come! Arghhh!”

It was no use. Charlie had no clue which commands might work to stop Bonnie chasing Gateau, who now jumped from the snow-crusted ground to the trunk of the monumental oak, scrambling up it with surprising speed. Gateau hovered in the tree’s upper branches, swishing her shiny black tail while Bonnie stood on her back legs, front paws scrabbling uselessly against the gnarled bark, howling out her indignation that the game was over.

“Bonnie, sit!” Jake’s voice bellowed in the yard. Bonnie immediately came down on her haunches, her long pink tongue hanging out of her mouth again as she panted. She looked at Jake, waiting for his next command.

“What happened?” he asked.