Hale, the dwarven baker.

I hop down the stairs to the side alley, then scurry around to the front of the bakery. The smell of bread and pastries is irresistible here, and therefore, I don’t resist.

Hale, the dwarven baker, is behind the counter. He’s young and strong, with hair the color of sunset, and hands that can make the best cinnamon rolls on the continent. I watch as he passes an enormous loaf of bread to a city guardsmen. “That ought to make you quite a few friends at the watchstation this morning,” Hale says.

The watchman shrugs. “Friends? This is all for me.” He tucks his shield-sized loaf under his arm, twitches his cloak away from his toes, and leaves the shop, not neglecting to tip his hat to me on the way out. I nod and wink in return, and then take my place at the counter.

Hale grins at me. “Good morning! What looks good to you today?” He gestures to an assortment of rolls and tarts on the counter.

I look over his wares, and frown. “I don’t see any…”

He produces a cinnamon roll from behind the counter, and offers it with a flourish. “I saved this one for you. On the house.”

I smile and accept. “I think I shall marry you,” I tell him, and take a moment to inhale the pastry’s wonderful perfume.

He laughs. “I had no idea that a fresh cinnamon roll would be the key to your heart.”

“Yes, you did. That’s why you keep feeding them to me.” I take a bite, and it’s as heavenly as it smells.

“Would you like a few to take with you?”

“I’d like about a thousand. Just fill my bedroom with them and come back in autumn.” I take another bite, and lick a little frosting off of my lower lip. I notice that Hale watches my tongue.

I glance through the kitchen door, but I don’t see any activity. “So are you running the shop yourself today?”

“Not for long. My sister will be back from the market any moment. We were low on eggs.”

“Mmm.” I swallow another mouthful. “So I have the day off, but I don’t feel like going out. I was thinking I might have a lazy day at home.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

“In bed.”

“Of course.”

“With a friend.”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it, and looks at me curiously. I take the opportunity to lick some frosting off of one of my fingertips, slowly, watching his eyes the entire time.

He clears his throat. “I’m sure she’ll be back at any moment.”

“I hope so. I’ll be upstairs.” I pause. “In bed.” Then I pop the last of my cinnamon roll into my mouth and head back up to my room.

I don’t have to wait long. When he lets himself into my room, I’m in my bed, as promised, wearing nothing but a bedsheet. I brush a little hair out of my eyes and smile, and he shuts the door behind him.

“Should I have brought more cinnamon rolls?” he asks, with a grin.

“That might have been interesting,” I tell him, “but, honestly, that’s not what I’m planning to put in my mouth.”

After that encouragement, it doesn’t take him long to get out of his clothes, and then…