Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 44

The steady whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm air, carrying the faint metallic scent of disinfectant as Kaelani wiped down the inside of the oven. The clock above the counter ticked toward closing time, its steady rhythm the only sound between bursts of Tessa’s humming as she swept the front of the shop.

“Hey, can I come in early tomorrow to mop? Jeff’s picking me up tonight, and I don’t want him to catch me mid–janitor fantasy.”

Kaelani glanced over her shoulder, brow arched. “Two dates in one week? That’s a new streak for you.”

Tessa leaned on the broom, flashing a grin. “What can I say? The man knows how to handle a stick shift—and I’m not about to waste that kind of talent.”

Kaelani groaned, half laughing, half mortified. “Tessa, please. I bake pastries in here.”

“Relax, boss. You make things rise in the oven, I make things rise elsewhere.”

Kaelani sighed, “Yeah, and I can always count on my pastries not changing temperature every five minutes.”

Tessa slowed her sweeping, the bristles rasping softly against the tile. Her grin faltered just enough to show she’d caught the weight behind the joke.

“Hey,” she said gently, resting her chin on the top of the broom handle. “Screw that guy. He’s not worth another second in that head of yours.”

Kaelani forced a faint smile, eyes still on the inside of the oven door as she scrubbed away the grease. “Trust me, he’s not getting one.”

Tessa studied her for a moment longer, then nodded like she believed her—almost. “Good. ’Cause if he tries, I’ll toss him in that oven the next time you preheat.”

That earned her a small, real laugh—the kind that cracked the quiet and made the kitchen feel lighter again.

The bell above the door chimed, and both women turned.

Julian stood in the doorway, the low evening light catching on the sharp line of his jaw. The air seemed to tighten in his presence.

Tessa blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Wow,” she said, leaning on her broom. “You really can’t take a hint, huh?”

Julian’s expression barely shifted. “Relax,” he said, tone even but defensive. “I just came in for a honey cake and a coffee.”

Kaelani crossed her arms, one brow lifting. “You drove all the way here for cake and coffee?”

“Actually,” Julian said smoothly, glancing around the quiet bakery, “I was in the neighborhood.”

Kaelani scoffed, shaking her head. “We’re closed.”

Julian checked the sleek watch on his wrist. “Not for another fifteen minutes,” he replied.

Her patience thinned audibly in the breath she released. Without another word, she grabbed a paper bag from the counter, yanked open the glass display, and pulled out a honey–cinnamon cake. She dropped it into the bag with more force than necessary.

“Anything else?” She asked flatly, holding the bag out like she wished she could throw it at him instead.

Julian didn’t take the bag right away. Instead, he glanced toward the display case, feigning thoughtfulness. “Actually…” he said slowly, tapping his chin, “maybe I’ll take one of those lemon tarts too.”

Kaelani’s jaw flexed. She turned, opened the display again, grabbed a tart, and dropped it into the bag with a dull thud.

Julian nodded as though deeply considering his options. “And one of those—what are they called? The little ones with the sugar glaze?”

“Maple twists,” she bit out.

“Right. One of those.”

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