Chapter 5
Sean
The weekend sale had crept up on us fast. We’d been baking non-stop the night before.
We’d been prepping trays upon trays of bear claws and honey cardamom buns until the kitchen smelled like toasted heaven and my muscles ached in that good, satisfying way.
I’d printed flyers, sketched cute little bear doodles in the corners, and then gone around with Leo the day before, hitting every bulletin board, light pole, and shop window we could.
Leo was great, charming and chatty, and he made sure everyone we met heard about Bear and Bun’s 2-for-1 sale this weekend.
While we were out, we’d stopped by Wolf and Whisk, because, yeah, curiosity won.
That’s where I met James. Wolf. Tall. Charming. With a quick wit and flour on his cheek. He caught me staring and just grinned like it was a shared secret.
“Don’t worry,” he’d said, “friendly competition makes the pastries taste sweeter.”
I liked him immediately. He reminded me of Leo a little, with his disarming and boyish charm. But today? Today was game day.
We’d opened early, the glass display full and shining.
Beau stood behind the counter looking calm, but I knew the signs now. His shoulders were tight, his hands a little too still, and his jaw worked like he was grinding down nerves.
“Breathe,” I told him, brushing flour from my apron. “It’s early. People will come.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything. The rest of the crew milled around, trying to look casual but clearly hoping someone, anyone, would walk through the door.
The morning dragged. A few folks wandered in, bought a bun or two. But it wasn’t the rush we hoped for.
Cassian scowled dramatically at the espresso machine, Rafael tapped the counter with bored fingers, and Leo kept darting to the window like a golden retriever waiting for the mailman.
“We need to hand out samples,” I said quietly.
Beau blinked at me. “Samples?”
“Yeah. It’s a small town. People need a reason to trust us. Let them taste what we’re offering. Win them over,” I explained.
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know…”
“I’ll do it,” I offered. “Me and Leo—”
“I’ll come with you,” Beau said suddenly, almost too fast. “You made these buns. If people ask questions, you should be there.”
My heart did a little flip. “Okay,” I said, trying to sound cooler than I felt.
So we went. Just the two of us. Me carrying the tray, Beau hovering like a protective shadow. I knew some people looked at him and saw danger, but I was starting to see something else entirely.
He had this quiet steadiness. A softness, buried deep, but unmistakable once you felt it. The locals were hesitant at first. Some peeked out of windows and shook their heads.
But I smiled, offered buns, cracked silly jokes, and after a while, people started taking them. Asking questions. Laughing. It wasn’t instant magic, but it was movement.
“We tried our best,” Beau said as we rounded the corner back toward the bakery. “That was a good idea.”
“Don’t count us out yet,” I replied. “It’s still early.”
When we turned onto Main Street, I stopped short. “Uh… Beau?”
He followed my gaze, and there it was. Bear and Bun, crowded. A small line out the door.
We could see Rafael frantically helping customers, Leo dashing around with a tray, and Dorian pulling espresso like a machine.
James walked out of the shop just as we arrived, holding what had to be ten bear claws in his arms. He gave us a sly grin.
“You guys might be onto something,” he said to me, then winked. “These are killer.”
Beau gave a low laugh beside me. “Coming from a wolf, that’s high praise.”
“We need help!” Rafael yelled from inside, waving wildly.
“Let’s go,” Beau said, and I followed him in, the door slamming behind us with the jingle of a bell and the scent of cardamom and sugar in the air.
It was chaos, but good chaos. Laughter, chattering, orders flying fast. My heart thudded as I jumped in beside the others, grabbing tongs, refilling trays.
Somewhere in the mix, Beau brushed past me, and our arms touched. Just a second. I looked up. He was already looking at me.
And yeah, I was ready. Whatever this thing between us was, it was growing. Like yeast left to rise, quietly but inevitably.
Later that night, we’d mop the floors and lock the doors and maybe I’d finally let him in a little more.
The next day passed like most did lately. Warm air from the ovens, the steady hum of customers, and the quiet rhythm we were starting to fall into.
I could tell Beau was still riding the high from yesterday’s sale, even if he was trying to play it cool. He wasn’t the kind of guy who grinned and shouted about success.
No, Beau wore his wins like he wore his floured apron, quiet pride wrapped in humble restraint.
I waited until the end of our shift to tell him my news. He was wiping down the counter, sleeves rolled up and flour dusted across one strong forearm.
His hair was a little messy. Probably from running his hand through it a dozen times, and the sight sent a strange flutter through my chest.
Not the nervous kind. The kind that made you want to reach out and feel more. I cleared my throat, suddenly unsure of my timing.
Before I could speak, Beau glanced up and said, “Hey. I’ve been meaning to say thank you. For yesterday. The flyers, the samples, all of it. We haven’t had a day like that in a while.”
I blinked. “You don’t have to thank me. It was a team effort.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged one shoulder, lips quirking faintly. “But you were the push we needed.”
Heat curled in my stomach at the sincerity in his voice.
I’d gotten compliments before, plenty of them. But this? This was different. It meant more. Maybe because it was Beau. Maybe because I actually cared what he thought.
I let that settle for a beat, then finally said it. “I found a place in town.”
Beau looked up again. For a split second, I swore I saw something flicker across his face. Disappointment?
It was gone before I could be sure, replaced by a nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“That’s good,” he said. “Close by?”
“Two blocks away. Walking distance.”
His smile warmed, just a little. “That’s even better.”
I hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “I could use a hand moving in.”
That got his full attention. “Yeah?” he asked, eyes brightening as he tossed the towel aside. “You sure?”
I shrugged, aiming for casual. “It’s just one bag. Not exactly a moving truck situation.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Then why’d you need help?”
I didn’t answer. Just let the silence stretch, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Maybe he’d already figured it out. That I didn’t actually need help. I just didn’t want to do it alone.
We closed up the shop together, turning off the ovens and stacking the chairs like it was just another night. But something was buzzing under the surface.
Anticipation. Nervous energy. The quiet hum of something shifting between us. When we reached the room I’d been staying in, Beau paused in the doorway and took it in.
“You cleaned,” he said softly, stepping inside. “You didn’t have to.”
I glanced around at the made bed, the neatly folded linens, the swept floor, and the stacked tools I’d tucked back into the corner where I found them. It looked like no one had stayed there at all.
“It felt right,” I said, voice quieter than I expected. “You gave me a space when I had nothing. Least I could do.”
Beau’s gaze shifted to the backpack slung over my shoulder. His brow furrowed. “This everything?”
“Yeah,” I replied, eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s all I’ve got.”
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded once. “I’ll drive you.”
We didn’t talk much on the drive. The silence wasn’t awkward, just heavy with things we weren’t quite ready to say yet.
Every once in a while, I’d catch him glancing over at me, his hand resting on the gearshift like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should.
The soft lights of Sugarpaw Springs passed by in a blur until we pulled onto the side street where my new apartment was.
Nothing fancy. Just a sturdy brick building with scuffed steps and a faded awning. But it was mine.
Beau killed the engine and stepped out without a word, falling into step beside me as we approached the building. I noticed him scanning the neighborhood, eyes sharp and assessing.
Like he was checking for anything that might be a threat. That little detail, that subtle protectiveness, settled deep in my chest.
Inside, we caught the elevator just as a tired-looking mom and a wide-eyed little boy stepped in. Beau immediately tensed, like he was ready to back off and avoid making anyone uncomfortable.
But I reached out and touched his wrist. Just a light tug. An invitation. He followed me in.
The elevator creaked as it started up. The boy stared at Beau, blinking like he wasn’t quite sure if he was dreaming.
“I love your bear claws,” he said finally, voice bright and sincere. “You make the best ones.”
Beau blinked. Then, slowly, the biggest, most genuine smile I’d ever seen spread across his face. It softened him, lit him up in a way that made my breath catch.
“Thanks, kid,” he said, voice low and warm.
When we reached my floor, the mom offered a grateful smile, and Beau held the door until she and her son stepped out.
We walked the rest of the way to my apartment in silence, my heart thudding a little faster with every step. When we reached my door, I turned to him. He was so close. So steady.
And I was done running from what I wanted.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “About how you asked me out for coffee. More than once.”
Beau didn’t speak. Just watched me, expression unreadable but open. Waiting.
“I regret saying no,” I admitted, dropping my gaze for a moment. “I was scared. Still am. But… I don’t want to keep pushing this away. You said you’d wait until I was ready.”
“I meant it,” he said softly.
I looked up, holding his gaze. “Well… I’m ready now.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then a slow, warm grin curled across his face, and something inside me just… settled.
“Then I’m looking forward to it,” Beau said.
I didn’t invite him in. Not yet. But as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and smiled. Maybe I didn’t have everything figured out. But this? This felt right.