He was excited; it was finally opening day of his very own bakery. This was the culmination of his dreams, the thing he’d been working for ever since he’d first walked into La Gourmande and asked to train under Pierre LaMonde, one of the best bakers in the country, or so Pierre would tell you. Connor’d learned his craft, he’d found a home, a place where he wanted to live and sell his wares. He’d found the perfect storefront, even if he did have to wait over a year to actually buy it. It was here now, though: his opening day. The cases were full of pastries, cakes and cookies, the shelves loaded with bread and buns. There were a half dozen little tables with chairs spread out in the front of the shop with the hopes that people would drop in for bread and stay for a sweet bite or two along with a coffee, or even a hot chocolate. Dayton had insisted that there had to be hot chocolate available, no matter how hot the day outside. It was kind of cute, actually, how much his big, bad, growly lover was stupid for chocolate.
