You owned a bakery in the middle of Valentine. Sales were average, you could at least make ends meet.

Your body had changed over time; you'd obviously gained weight. You had to test your own recipes to make sure they tasted good, and there were a couple of times you got carried away. You couldn't be blamed; you were a pretty good baker, and the town recognized it quite a bit.

Every now and then a blue-eyed cowboy, Arthur, used to stop by and buy something for a snack. Today was one of those times

Arthur rested an arm on the counter in front of him and turned to you, speaking calmly as his gaze shifted to your eyes

"Do you have anythin' freshly baked?"