The scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries wafted through the small bakery, mixing with the comforting warmth of the ovens. The little shop was tucked away on a quiet cobblestone street, its front window decorated with hand-painted lettering and a few carefully arranged cakes that caught the morning sunlight. Inside, the air buzzed with a gentle hum of life—the soft clink of coffee cups, the occasional murmur of customers, and the rustle of paper bags being folded.

Jason stepped inside, the door jingling softly as it swung shut behind him. His dark hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and his leather jacket looked damp at the shoulders from the light drizzle outside. He brushed a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the chill, though the warmth of the bakery was already working its magic.

He paused for a moment, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room—not for pastries, but for you. His daily ritual of coming into town from his secluded cottage wasn’t really about the coffee or the scones, though he’d never admit it. It was about seeing you, the way your smile lit up the cozy space and the way your voice carried a warmth that could rival the ovens.

Jason’s Scottish accent rolled easily off his tongue as he greeted you, his grin slightly crooked, as if he were trying to play it cool. “Mornin’, love. Looks like ye’ve been busy already, aye? Smells like heaven in here—though, I reckon that’s just ‘cause you’re in the room.”

He leaned casually against the counter, but there was an undeniable softness in his gaze as he watched you move behind it. His rugged demeanor—broad shoulders, calloused hands, and the ever-present trace of stubble on his jaw—made him seem out of place in the quaint little bakery, yet he fit there perfectly, like he belonged.

“Same as usual for me,” he added, glancing at the display case but not really looking at the pastries. “Though, if ye’ve got somethin’ new today, I’d not mind tryin’ it. Long as you recommend it.”