The next morning, Sweet Sunrise Bakery buzzed with its usual hum of ovens and chatter. The chaos of yesterday's flour fiasco had settled, but the memory of Ethan's grin — and that faint brush of his hand — lingered in Lila's mind like powdered sugar on her tongue.

Marisol leaned against the counter, watching her friend glaze a tray of conchas with suspiciously dreamy focus.

"Okay," she said, raising a brow. "You've been smiling at that dough for five minutes straight. Spill it."

Lila nearly dropped the spoon. "W-What? I'm just focused."

"Focused?" Marisol teased, biting back a grin. "Focused on Ethan Rivera, maybe?"

Lila froze, caught red-handed. "Mari..."

"Oh, come on, Lila! You've got that look. The one you get when the guava jam sets perfectly. Except now it's about a guy."

With a sigh, Lila finally gave up pretending. "Fine. He's... sweet. And funny. And—ugh—he makes me laugh when I'm exhausted. It's just easy being around him."

Marisol smiled knowingly. "And the flour fight?"

Lila groaned, covering her face. "Don't remind me. I've never been more embarrassed in my life. I looked like a walking donut!"

"Please, you two were adorable," Marisol said. "He looked at you like you were the best thing since pan sobao."

Lila laughed despite herself. "You're ridiculous."

"But tell me you're not falling for him," Marisol pressed gently.

Lila hesitated, looking down at the pastries cooling in front of her. "I don't know... maybe. I mean, he's just the delivery driver, and I—"

"—am a total goner," Marisol finished for her, smirking. "Just admit it, amiga. You like him."

Lila sighed, her cheeks pink. "Maybe a little."

Marisol grinned triumphantly. "I knew it!"

Lila shot her a playful glare. "You talk like you're not secretly crushing on someone yourself."

"Me?" Marisol laughed, waving a hand. "I don't have time for that."

"Oh really?" Lila asked innocently. "Because I saw you checking out Diego last week when he helped Ethan carry in that flour order."

Marisol's face went red. "I—what—no! I was just—he was—lifting things!"

"Uh-huh. Lifting things very attractively, right?"

Marisol threw a towel at her, both girls bursting into laughter that echoed through the bakery.

Across town, Ethan was pulling into the delivery depot, whistling under his breath. His best friend, Diego, leaned against the side of his own truck, arms crossed, a sly grin already forming.

"Somebody's in a good mood," Diego said. "Lemme guess — Sweet Sunrise Bakery again?"

Ethan tried to sound casual. "What? I like their pastries."

"Sure," Diego said, smirking. "Or maybe it's the baker you like."

Ethan stopped mid-step. "You're imagining things."

"Am I? Because I've never seen you voluntarily take a morning route twice in one week."

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to smile. "Alright, fine. She's... great. Lila's smart, funny, she actually listens when I talk about the routes. And she makes the best cinnamon rolls I've ever had."

Diego chuckled. "Ah, so it's serious. You've moved past flirting to food-based devotion."

"Shut up," Ethan said, laughing. "It's not like that."

"Uh-huh. Sure it's not," Diego said, nudging him with his elbow. "So, what's your plan?"

Ethan blinked. "My plan?"

"You can't just flirt and deliver flour forever. Ask her out, bro."

Ethan hesitated, his confidence wavering. "I don't know... she's amazing, and I'm just—well, me. A guy in a delivery truck."

Diego shook his head. "Nah, man. You're the guy who makes her laugh. That counts for something. Trust me."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you the love expert?"

"Since I started making deliveries to that bakery with you," Diego said, smirking again. "You think I didn't notice Marisol watching me last week?"

Ethan's eyes widened. "Wait—she was?"

Diego grinned, cocky. "Yup. Looked like she was about to melt faster than frosting in the sun."

Ethan snorted. "You're imagining things."

"Maybe," Diego said, hopping into his truck. "Or maybe you and I both have a couple of sweethearts waiting for us behind that bakery counter."

Ethan rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smile. "You're impossible."

"Yeah," Diego said, revving the engine. "But at least I'm right."

As the trucks rolled out onto the sunlit streets, both men caught themselves glancing at their phones—half expecting, half hoping for a reason to swing by Sweet Sunrise Bakery again.

Back at the bakery, Lila was doing the same thing, pretending not to check the clock every few minutes, wondering when that familiar rumble of a truck might sound outside again.