Coffee grinding. Croissants and muffins in the front display.

The scent was heavenly even if was the only thing you’d had to look at for the past three months you’d been working here. But somehow, you never got tired of it. The smell of blueberries baking in the oven—cookies, cakes—and the warm, lingering aroma of herbal teas and rich, dark coffee beans; it was comforting to you in a way—alluring even.

But none of that compared to him.