Bailey Willis carefully balanced a three-tier stand filled with scones, pastries, finger sandwiches, and other sweet treats. She then pushed through the split kitchen door.

She passed her assistant, Jilly, who stood at attention in a proper English maid uniform in front of the elegant dining room. “Afternoon tea at table five. Bring the tea cart, please.”

Jilly smiled. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll even bring the sugar, milk, lemon, and clotted cream.”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Watch the sass, sweetheart.” She winked at Jilly to show she was joking and moved toward table five. When she arrived, she saw a grandmother and her two granddaughters dressed to the nines for a formal tea party. Absently, she wondered whether the two girls actually enjoyed being dressed up in all that lace and frills. At their age, she’d hated it. Mostly she’d dressed in jeans and tee shirts. Gently, Bailey settled the stand in the middle of the table. 

Most of their patrons grabbed at the delicacies before fixing their tea, but Millicent Franklin was a stickler for protocol. Bailey knew she preferred to pour and then serve her grandchildren cakes, one at a time. She smiled as Jilly approached with the tea cart.

Jilly curtsied and asked in a clipped British accent, “And who shall be Mother today?” 

Mrs. Franklin smiled. “I think it’s Lisa’s turn, and she’s been practicing.” The woman gazed fondly at the two children.

“Very good, ma’am.” Jilly stepped back from the cart and stood at parade rest.

Ten-year-old Lisa rose from the table, went to the tea cart, inspected its contents carefully, and nodded with approval. She turned to her grandmother and in a soft voice, asked, “How would you like your tea today, Grandmother?”

“Two sugars and a quick splash of cream, please.”

Lisa carefully placed the sugar cubes in a teacup, added some cream, and filled the cup with their chosen tea. She set the cup on a saucer and placed it in front of her grandmother. She turned to her older sister. “Mallory, may I serve you tea?” 

Mallory smoothed the pink cloth napkin on her lap and smiled sweetly. “Yes, please. Just a hint of milk for me, sister. I so enjoy a cuppa lavender tea. I don’t want to dilute the flavor.”

Jilly bit her lip and squelched a giggle. 

Bailey knew Jilly always found the younger patrons entertaining. But a break from character would impact the formality of tea. And that formality was what made Bailey’s tea shop, A Spot of Tea, special. Bailey shot Jilly a stern look, and she sobered. Her caramel-toned face and brown-green eyes settled into a more deferential expression.

Lisa quickly placed the teacup before her sister and then prepared her own. She returned to her seat and gazed at her grandmother expectantly.

 Mrs. Franklin smiled proudly. “Very nice, Lisa. Now what will you have? I believe our sandwiches are date cream cheese, chicken salad, and cucumber. Our scones are walnut, lemon blueberry, and some sort of other dessert scone.” She cocked an eyebrow at Jilly.

Jilly stepped forward. “Those are triple chocolate, ma’am.”

Mrs. Franklin nodded. “And the cakes are as I requested?” She gazed at Bailey. 

“Yes, ma’am. Sunshine cake, lemon poppyseed, and a strawberry torte.”

Before Mrs. Franklin could respond, they heard a loud crash, and then the sound of breaking glass. The floor seemed to shake.

Bailey paled and quickly curtsied. “Excuse me, please.” She hurried back into the kitchen where her chef, Spencer, held a substantial pastry brush and was swatting a man sprawled out on the floor. A black cowboy hat sat at the man’s feet. “Spencer, what the devil? We do not beat on our customers.” She extended an arm to the man and helped him to his feet. “Now, will someone please explain to me what’s going on?”

Spencer’s victim picked up his hat and slapped it on his leg, then reshaped the crown. He placed the hat on his head. His soft brown eyes, punctuated by crow’s feet that appeared carved into his tan face, gazed at Bailey, and his full lips curled up in a cocky grin. “Sorry, ma’am,” he drawled in a sexy baritone. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but my daughter sent me to pick up her order for my granddaughter’s birthday party. I saw how crowded it was out front, so I thought it best to come ‘round to the back door.” He made a face. “Not sure how I wound up on the floor. Guess I slipped.” He shrugged and chuckled. “Guess that happens to those of us ready for the pasture.”

Bailey squelched a sigh. Pasture my eye. He couldn’t be more than fifty, around her age. This guy could be on the cover of a romance novel. He was tall and sturdy, with curly dark hair, bushy eyebrows, and just a hint of a five o'clock shadow. And that voice. She could just imagine the man whispering into her ear after a night of passionate sex. A tiny shiver raced up and down her spine. She was exiting her forties, but her body was not immune to a handsome cowboy. Damn, he was fine.

Spencer planted his hands on his skinny hips and scowled. “He didn’t knock. He just whipped open the door and barged on in. Scared the bejesus out of me. I dropped a water glass.” He shot the cowboy a dirty look. “His boots must be wet, because he took a less-than-graceful tumble. You know, ass over teakettle? You may be all that in Texas, cowboy. But in Wisconsin, we wipe our feet before entering a building.” He clucked his tongue and tossed his head. “Everyone knows what happens when you track in snow.”

The cowboy held up his hands and tried to squelch a grin. “Hey, I apologize. In my defense, I knocked several times. When no one responded, I just thought it would be easier to come in…”