He’s a man used to women melting at his feet. I’m not entirely made of sugar.

Smile and swagger exudes from the Labelle men, and I’m immune to it. That’s still no match for their father, who I met on his frequent trips to the pastry shop where I work. The meddlesome man has his last single son so spooked, Cam lies to him with tales of us fake dating.

I shut that ruse down real quick. Because there is no faking the spark between Cam and I.

I mean, my muffins are a pastry chef’s worst nightmare, yet Cam keeps coming back for more. And I’m no better, getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Said jar being a euphemism, by the way.

It should be said, if you find a man who can handle your type of crazy, lock him down. And I make a tornado seem like an opportune time to fly a kite. But Cam is determined to keep his rule of no repeats. No commitments. And never fall in love again.

I’ve never backed down from a fight, but how do I compete with the woman who made him a widower?

She has all of Cam’s firsts. I want to be his last.