"Mom? Why are you out of breath?" Jordyn demanded as Autumn let herself into the cottage.

She walked right to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, ripping off the cap and taking a long drink. Was it hot in here or was it her?

"Mom!"

Autumn jerked, water sloshing out of the bottle. "What?"

Jordyn spread her arms. "I said, why are you out of breath?"

"Oh, I just realized that I had some stuff to take care of here, so I hustled back."

Her kid cocked her head; Jordyn was smart—she could sense bullshit a mile away. Her strong common sense was one of the reasons why Autumn allowed her to stream at all on that gaming platform.

Jordyn opened her mouth to refute her mother's claim, but she suddenly pivoted towards the door. "Uh, Mom—why is your hot boss standing outside?"

"Shit," Autumn swore, setting the bottle on the counter.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I'll let you know when I do."

Pushing back her hair, Autumn attempted to make herself somewhat presentable. She crossed the room and opened the door. "Mr Westbrook."

He stood there, irrefutably handsome, with both hands in his pockets. "Ms Milford. May I come in?"

Autumn sighed. Might as well get this over with quickly, so she could get back to work. "Sure. Jordyn? Please go up to your room while Mr Westbrook and I have a talk."

"Go to my room? Seriously?"

"Go, please."

Jordyn rolled her eyes. "This is so weird. I'm going to listen from the balcony." She turned and raced up the stairs. Autumn followed her until she was certain she heard a door close.

"Sorry about that," Autumn told Mr Westbrook.

His lips twitched. "Strong-willed girl. Like her mother, I suppose."

Autumn folded her arms and sighed. "No, she gets that from her father."

"Oh."

Shoving those old memories aside, Autumn gestured for Mr Westbrook to come into the living room. He closed the door behind him and followed at a respectable distance.

"So," Autumn said, dropping onto the couch. "What can I do for you?"

Mr Westbrook sat on a chair nearby. Clasping his hands between his knees, he looked up at Autumn. "I want to apologize."

She blinked. "For what?" If anything, she had been the one answering his signals.

"For making you uncomfortable. I—I admit, it's been a long time since I've been interested in a woman and obviously, I've gone about it all wrong."

Autumn began to tell him not to worry about it, but then she realized what he was saying. "You're ... interested in me? Why?" She was a single mother and baker, someone who was barely hanging on. What the hell did she have to offer a millionaire?

Mr Westbrook looked up, idly twisting the watch on his left wrist. It wasn't a large, bulky timepiece, but something small and simple. "I'd like to find out if that's all right with you."

Autumn swallowed hard and glanced at the kitchen counter where her bottle of water sat. She was suddenly very thirsty—and not in the way kids today used the term. "Mr Westbrook," she began slowly, "thank you—that's very flattering, but I don't think we have anything in common."

He paused and looked at the floor. "I was born the son of a poor farmer in Pennsylvania," he began, lifting his chin. "Both of my parents died within a year of each other. I couldn't handle the farm by myself, so I ended up selling it and using some of the money for my education. The rest, I invested. I worked long hours at some very difficult jobs, but eventually, those investments paid off. And now, I get to do what I always wanted: paint, garden, and enjoy nature. What doesn't go towards paying for my staff and this estate's upkeep, I give to local charities. So, Ms Milford ... we're not as dissimilar as you might think."

Autumn just stared at him.

"We're both hard-working, persevering people who just want to do what we love," he added when she didn't say anything.

When he put it that way, they did have something in common. Autumn took a deep breath. She wasn't a risk-taker by any stretch of the imagination and she was only here to provide a very specific service—not to pick up men. But ... "You are very persuasive, Mr Westbrook." He really was making himself out to be the perfect man. She just hoped that it wasn't all a ruse. He seemed a little too old to be doing this on a dare. But then again, who could understand the mind of rich people? She was baking with blood on his request, after all.

He reared back suddenly, alarmed. "I don't mean to pressure you."

His concern was endearing. "Just a little," she replied, making a gesture with forefinger and thumb. She leaned forward slightly. "But you have to understand one thing, Mr Westbrook."

"That is?"

"My daughter comes first. I don't care how much money you have, I don't care about your connections—Jordyn is my priority."

"That's right!" Jordyn exclaimed from the second floor.

"Jordyn!" Autumn called out. "Stop eavesdropping!"

Her daughter poked her head around the corner. "This is the first guy you've ever agreed to go out with, Mom! I have to see it for myself!"

Sighing, Autumn pushed the hair back from her face. Jordyn was right, though. Ever since Jared left her and gave up his parental rights, she'd kept men at arms-length. But Jordyn was older now, and she did feel something in Mr Westbrook's presence—even if she wasn't sure what that was, either. Maybe ... maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"So," Autumn said, looking into Mr Westbrook's ocean-colored eyes, "does that work for you?"

He smiled and turned to wave at Jordyn. "Yes."

"Although, I'll be here, baking for your event," Autumn reminded him, pointing at the kitchen with the bags of dried blood on the counter. "That doesn't exactly make for an exciting date." She was giving him one last chance to back out.

Mr Westbrook grinned. "I'm not an exciting man, Ms Milford. And besides, I don't mind watching you bake—as long as I can have some."

"You can eat the blood ones!" Jordyn called down, causing Mr Westbrook to chuckle.

Autumn shook her head. "You can eat as many as you'd like. You're paying for it, after all."

"I am, aren't I?" Smiling, Mr Westbrook checked his watch and stood up. "I have some event things to attend to," he said, pulling a face. "I'll see you tomorrow morning ... Autumn?"

"Yes, you will!" Jordyn shouted, causing Autumn to blush. She was going to kill that kid—or, at least, unplug her gaming set up.

Autumn stood up as well. "Yes ... Corbin."

He smiled and left. The door wasn't even part-way closed before Jordyn ran screaming down the stairs, throwing herself at her mother.

"A millionaire, Mom!" she exclaimed, hugging her tight. "How cool! Aunt Marnie will die when she hears about this!"

Yeah, Autumn thought, watching Corbin's retreating figure. Very cool. She looked down at her daughter. "You do know what this means, though, right?"

"What?" Jordyn straightened, bouncing from foot to foot.

"You'll need to be on your best behavior while he's around."

Jordyn snorted. "That'll be another day."

"I gave you four already."

"Five to be nice to Daddy Warbucks."

Autumn sighed dramatically and kissed the top of her head. "Fine. Five." Five nights of streaming to keep things running smoothly. All in all, it was a good trade.

Now, all she had to do was make sure she had enough ingredients to make more cinnamon rolls. She had a breakfast date with a millionaire.