Technically, she would have beaten him for the top spot in their class.
But that technically was a whole other story. A secret she mostly wanted to forget.
Except it reminded her of his true character. Leo was like an éclair. Pretty and charming on the outside, but with a core that was all fluff and no substance.
As if sensing her apprehension, he threw his hands up, palms out. “Just talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Business,” he said. “A business proposition.”
Well, this was interesting. But it was absolutely, positively not going to happen. Everyone in Blossom Glen was aware that the Montgomerys and Castorinis did not do business together, and Tessa and Leo knew that better than anyone. “Did you have a wine-tasting at your restaurant today? Are you drunk?”
“Sober as a preacher.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward a little. “This can benefit both our businesses. I think it’s worthwhile for you to hear me out.”
What was he up to? He’d made a fortune in New York, or so everyone said. And he’d been in town for a couple months now, helping his dad in their restaurant and managing a local apartment complex. Wasn’t he busy enough? And what did he want with her?
She couldn’t help but notice that he smelled really good. Whatever clovey-spicy shampoo he used to wash those jet-black locks was…practically edible. Though truthfully, she was easily impressed these days. She hadn’t been this close to a man who didn’t smell like yeast in quite a while.
Plus, she reminded herself, women had been falling at his feet for as long as she could remember. Which was why his friends used to call him Leo the Legend.
“Can I get you something?” She waved her hand over the bakery case. To be polite. Because she was on the clock.
“I’ll have whatever you just had,” he said.
She frowned. Was he playing games? “How do you know what I just had?”
He tapped the corner of his mouth. “Because you’ve got a tiny little speck of chocolate right there.”
She quickly swiped at both sides of her own mouth, her cheeks lighting on fire. How was it that he could make her feel like an awkward sixteen-year-old again? “Fine. Sit down. I’ll get you something chocolate.” But it wouldn’t be the chocolate croissant she’d had. Because it was amazing, and he didn’t deserve it.
She gestured for Leo to sit down and walked into the back room. Thank goodness her mom usually took Tuesday afternoons off. If she knew Tessa had just invited Leo to stay and sully their bakery with his Castorini DNA, gorgeous though it was, she would fumigate the entire place.
Tessa walked over to a baking tray and decided to change her tactic. She selected a perfectly formed chocolate croissant to put on a plate. Despite the fact that she’d only stayed in this tiny town to help her mother and grandmother in the bakery after her dad died, while Leo left to attend the best schools on the planet, she wouldn’t let that bitter pill ruin her reputation as a quality baker. Life might have waylaid her dream of becoming a real pastry chef, but it hadn’t killed it. Until she could actually realize it, she’d studied tirelessly and taught herself as much about baking as she could. And so she was going to hand him the best one of the entire bunch.
Just let him try to find fault with it.
“Aren’t you living in New York?” she asked as she walked over to a table by the window where he sat scrolling through his phone. She set the plate in front of him and stepped back.
“Not anymore.” He gestured for her to sit down, like they were old friends, not frenemies. “Got my MBA, and now I’m back,” he said, eyeing the croissant. “To help my dad.”
Between his dad and her mom, it was a complete toss-up who was more obstinate. And she knew for a fact that in Leo’s case, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Whatever brought him here to actually speak to her had to be important.
She looked out the window and scanned the street nervously. “If anyone sees us in here together…”
He casually crossed his arms, which showcased biceps as nicely rounded and perfect as one of her petits pains. “Isn’t it time for that silly feud to end?”
She tilted her head. “Tell our parents that.” She wasn’t going to let her guard down with him, no matter how friendly he seemed. Those moony brown eyes might make other women melt, but not her, no siree.
“So, about business.” He took a bite of the croissant.
“Business,” she repeated. Talking business with a Castorini. What a weird day this was turning out to be.
“It’s no secret that…” His voice suddenly trailed off.
“What is it?” she asked as he went quiet. Was he choking on her croissant? She’d never performed the Heimlich on anyone. What if she did it wrong? How would she explain his dead body when they weren’t even supposed to be talking?
He didn’t seem to be in distress, though. Now he was holding up the croissant and examining it closely. “You made this yourself?”
“Yes…” she said carefully. If he dared to insult her baking, she was tossing him out. Of course, he would probably just bounce on the sidewalk with that perfectly tight behind.
He devoured another bite and licked his fingers. Which was just the tiniest bit sensual—enough to bring those non-butterflies back. “It’s phenomenal,” he said.
There went her cheeks again. Pretty soon she’d need a fire extinguisher. “Oh. Thanks,” she said as nonchalantly as possible, considering her face was probably the color of the chair covers.
“It’s no secret that neither of our businesses is doing that great,” he said.
That caught her attention. Because today they’d just lost their contract with an organic grocery store chain that had been bought out. “I’ve been telling my mom we need to diversify our inventory,” she admitted, finally taking a seat. “But she keeps insisting we’re a boulangerie, and that means bread only.”
He nodded. “My dad won’t accept any menu changes, either. Let alone farm-to-table, organic, new takeout options, or…anything. But he’s going to have to agree to do something, or our restaurant isn’t going to make it.” He took the last bite and made a noise in his throat that could only be interpreted as him really liking it, which left her strangely pleased. “I was thinking we could contract with you to use your bread. And maybe other things, too. Do you make desserts?”
He’d just said her magic word.
And he’d hit a nerve. “My mother would never go against tradition. It would change the whole business.”
But maybe that’s what they needed.