Crissy buried her fingers in the bread dough, inhaling the warm, yeasty smell that surrounded her like a blanket. She didn't even care that Valentine's Day was two weeks away. She didn't even care that she would be spending it alone, except for the company of a bottle of wine, a dozen of her heart-shaped sugar cookies, and a towering stack of romantic comedy movies.

As long as she could bake something, anything, she could forget the outside world and that nudge of loneliness in her gut. Nothing else mattered when she lost herself in the detail of icing a cake or getting croissants to just the right buttery, flaky softness. Relationships sucked anyway. Food was there for her, always had been, always would be.

Amy slapped her hands on either side of the kitchen doorway, startling Crissy from her reverie. Amy leaned in, her blue eyes wide.

"Crissy, you have to come see this. Right now," she said.

"I'm busy," Crissy hedged. "I've got to get these rolls in the oven and..."

Amy shook her head. "Don't care. It can wait, I promise you, it can wait." She clamped a hand around Crissy's arm, tugging her away from the comfort of her dough.

"I'm telling you," she continued. "Bread is the least of your concerns after you feast your eyes on this."

She slipped behind Crissy, steered her out of the kitchen and into the bustling chaos of the coffee shop. And there, impossible to miss, was a group of firefighters, four men, two women. They talked and laughed together as they waited in line at the register Amy had abandoned.

But it was the firefighter standing on the edge of the group that caught Crissy eye. Tall, broad shouldered, with the arms of a god. Blond hair a little on the long side but not so long that it was unkempt or made him look ragged, far from it. An easy smile and a quiet, deep laugh that made Crissy sway a little at the sound.

"What did I tell you?" Amy said, pleased with herself. "Delicious, isn't he?"

As if he had heard above the buzz of the coffee shop, the firefighter turned and looked right at Crissy. He smiled that smooth, soft smile and nodded. Rather than smile back, Crissy panicked and, like an idiot, fled. She yanked Amy back into the kitchen.

"Keep your voice down," she hissed.

"It's not like he can hear us or anything."

"Maybe he could. How do you know?"

"You should go take the register," Amy said with a shove. "I'll handle the baking for a bit. He's third in line, he'll be up front before you know it and then he's all yours."

Crissy shrugged Amy's hands off her shoulders. "No, no way."

"Come on, Cris," Amy groaned. "He saw you, he smiled at you. All good signs. You have to get over your relationship intimacy issues at some point. What better time than to start with a gorgeous firefighter?"

Crissy bristled at that then shoved the offended feelings down. Amy meant well, she wanted to see Crissy happy, that's all.

"Stop, Amy," she said in a tired voice. "Please. I have no intimacy issues, thank you very much. I just...I'm not really ready for anything at the moment. I've got orders for the shop backed up for two months. I can't afford a relationship right now."

Amy leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms.

"That's not the whole truth," she said, raising an eyebrow. Crissy quailed at that look, the look that said Amy could see straight through Crissy's defenses to her mushy, wish-washy true feelings on the subject.

"Crissy," Amy sighed. "I know Rob was an asshole and it's going to take a lot of time to get over the things he said..."

Crissy turned back to the dough at the mention of her ex-fiancé. This was not the direction she wanted the conversation to take. It was one thing ogling the good looking guys that came through the coffee shop on occasion, it was a whole other deal bringing up the trainwreck that was her former fiancé.

As soon as Crissy's fingers brushed the pillowy surface of the dough, she let out a sigh of relief.

"I don't want to talk about Rob," she said. "I want to do my job and finish these sweet rolls. And I want you to do your job and deal with the customers. And don't say anything embarrassing to that firefighter."

"All right, you win this round," Amy relented. "But if that firefighter asks about you, I can't promise that I won't flirt in your stead."

It felt good, being alone with her bread dough again, the simple task of kneading, and rolling, and shaping it into sweet rolls a soothing balm to her mind and her frayed nerves. She could still see that firefighter in her mind's eye though...

Two years had passed since Rob broke off their engagement and during all that time, she hadn't even once considered another relationship. No one-night stands, no happily ever afters, nothing. It wasn't that she was waiting for Rob to come back to her or change his mind about what he said to her. She knew that was never going to happen. She might have a soft spot for the sweet impossible fantasies of a cheesy romantic movie, but she did not harbor any unrealistic fantasies about Rob anymore. He pretty much shattered any and all good thoughts she had about him the moment he...

Crissy glared at the kitchen wall. Two years gone and she couldn't get over the bastard. She hated herself sometimes for letting him get to her. She punched the dough, her fist sinking deep, then immediately regretted it. She fluffed it up again, being gentler this time, and shoving Rob from her mind.

A light tap drew her attention and Amy stood at the doorway again, looking smug as a cat.

"His name is Quinn," she said.

"That's...nice. Why are you telling me this? I don't need to know."

"He sends his compliments to the chef."

With that, Amy walked away, throwing a little smile of triumph over her shoulder as she went.