Chapter 2 Hawthorn
TWO
HAWTHORN
I should have said no.
The thought circled through my head for the hundredth time as I prepped the sourdough starter.
The bakery was dark except for the work lights over my station and quiet apart from the hum of the ovens warming up.
This was my favorite time of day. I was alone and focused, with nothing but flour, yeast and the rhythm of work I'd done for ten years.
Then the back door opened and he walked in.
Zale, the omega from last night with those bright blue eyes and a smile that had made something in my chest twist uncomfortably. He was bundled in a thick coat and scarf while his cheeks were pink from the cold, and he was exactly on time.
His scent hit me immediately. Honeyed sweetness with something sharp and bright underneath—lime maybe. My wolf roused himself, and was alert and far too interested in my new employee.
"Good morning." His voice was too cheerful for so early in the morning.
I grunted and pointed to the hooks by the door. "Coat goes there. There are aprons in the closet. Wash your hands at that sink for twenty seconds and get the soap up to your elbows. And put on a hairnet."
"Got it."
He moved with easy efficiency, hanging up his things and finding an apron without needing more direction. When he came back, his sleeves were rolled up and his hands scrubbed clean. He waited to be given the next instruction with no hint of exhaustion most people wore at this hour.
I should not have noticed the lean muscle in his forearms. I definitely should not have been thinking about how those hands would feel on me. Nope. I wasn’t doing this, though my wolf was encouraged by my random, early-morning thoughts.
"Coffee's in the pot." I nodded toward the corner, not trusting myself to look at him directly. "Get yourself some because you'll need it."
"What about you?"
“I already had three cups." I turned back to my dough. "Rule one: I don't do small talk before sunrise. Rule two: if you need a break, take it, but tell me first. Rule three: if you're going to quit, do it now before I waste time training you."
I was met with silence. I glanced back but Zale was pouring coffee, completely unbothered by my gruffness.
"I'm not quitting."
"Yeah, well. We'll see." I pointed to the massive bag of flour in the corner. "Bring that here. It’s a lifting test because it’s heavy.” It shouldn’t be a problem for him because he had shifter strength but I needed to know for certain.
Zale set down his mug and crossed to the fifty-pound bag. He hefted it easily, barely straining, and carried it over to my station. My wolf was way too interested in watching those muscles work.
"Good. You'll be doing a lot of that." I measured out flour and refused to look at him. "Today you're on prep duty. I'll show you once, then you do it. Questions?"
"No."
"Good."
I walked him through the basics of measuring ingredients, preparing baking sheets, and setting up the proofing racks.
He absorbed everything quickly and his movements became surer with each repetition.
He didn’t complain or make jokes about the hour, and he made no attempt to talk beyond clarifying questions.
It was unexpected and nice. Usually new hires either talked incessantly to fight off sleepiness or dragged themselves around.
But his honeyed aroma wrapped around me, distracting me as I worked. Whenever he moved near me to grab supplies or ask a question, it intensified. My wolf kept wanting me to move closer and find an excuse to touch him. But that wasn’t happening.
An hour in, I had him rolling out croissant dough while I worked on the morning's bread orders. The bakery had fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the soft thwack of dough, the gentle hiss of the ovens, and the occasional clink of equipment.
Zale leaned over his work as he focused and a strand of hair escaped his hairnet. He brushed it back absently with his elbow and my fingers itched to reach over and wipe away flour on his cheek.
"How's this?" Zale held up a rolled croissant.
I inspected it. The roll was tight and almost perfect for a first attempt. "Good. Keep going."
Pleasure flashed across his face for a second, but I caught it. Heat unfurled in my chest, confusing me enough to make me breathless. I turned away before I could analyze what had happened.
By four-thirty, we'd moved into the main baking push. Zale followed my terse instructions without hesitation, anticipating what I needed before I asked. When I said "oven," he already had the door open. When I reached for a pan, he was sliding it into position.
We moved around each other in the small space. His shoulder brushed mine as he reached for measuring cups and our hands met reaching for the same bowl. Each touch sent heat through me that had nothing to do with the ovens.
It should have been annoying, having someone in my space. Instead, my wolf was practically purring.
"You've really never worked in a bakery before?" The question came out before I could stop it.
Zale looked up from the muffin tins he was filling. "Never. Why?"
"You're not terrible at this."
His smile could have lit the whole damn bakery. "Was that a compliment?"
"It was an observation." But there was a warmth spreading over my lower region and I didn't like it one bit.
"I'll take it." Zale went back to the muffins, still grinning.
I needed to get my head straight. This was temporary. He'd said that he was just passing through. And even if he wasn't, I'd learned my lesson about relationships. Expecting anyone to understand the life of a baker, the brutal hours and complete devotion required led to resentment and heartache.
Roland had tried. We'd made it four months before he'd sat me down with tears in his eyes and told me he felt as though he was dating a ghost. I was never around for dinners or evenings or normal couple things. I smelled like yeast and fell asleep on the couch more often than in bed.
After him came Martin, who'd lasted two months. Then Jackson, who'd made it six weeks before calling it quits.
I'd stopped trying after that. The bakery had to be enough.
"Hawthorn?" Zale's voice cut through my thoughts. "The timer."
I blinked. The bread timer was going off and had been for who knew how long. I swore and grabbed my oven mitts before pulling out the loaves. They were darker than I liked with the crusts a shade too brown.
"Sorry." Zale looked worried. "I should have done something."
“It’s not your fault." I set the loaves down to cool more roughly than necessary. "I got distracted."
By you, my brain supplied unhelpfully, and how you fit into my space as if you belong here. And there’s your scent, your smile and how my wolf has decided you're someone I need in my life.
I shut that thought down hard.
"Why don't you take your break?" My voice was harsher than it should have been. "Fifteen minutes. There's a table in the other room."
Zale hesitated. "Are you sure? I can keep working."
“Take a break now."
He did as I asked though his face was a mask of confusion. I braced my hands on the counter and took a deep breath. I was fine. After the one-week trial, he'd move on and everything would go back to normal.
My wolf whined his disagreement.
Be quiet.
When Zale came back, he brought me a fresh cup of coffee without asking and our fingers brushed when I took it. His scent washed over me. I wanted to lean in, press my nose to his neck and breathe him in until I was drunk on him.
But I pulled back and took a sip of the coffee to give myself something to do.
Neither of us mentioned how we were both breathing a little harder.
The morning rush started at six when I unlocked the front door.
Zale stayed in the back like I'd instructed, prepping the next round while I handled customers. Mrs. Trent wanted her usual sourdough. Benjamin got his cheese danish and black coffee, and the Axley twins’ mittens were sprinkled with snow when they came in for cinnamon rolls before school.
Everyone asked about my new help. Being a small town, they'd noticed the second shadow moving around.
“It’s someone helping in the lead up to Christmas,” I repeated to each of them. That was a noncommittal reply and insinuated it was temporary.
Through the doorway, I could see Zale working but I forced myself to focus on my customers and not his hands or his eyes.
By eight, the morning rush had tapered off. Zale emerged from the back with a smudge of chocolate on his cheek. He was rumpled and tired, but his eyes were bright and he was bouncing on his feet in a way that did something dangerous to my heart."
"I think I'm getting the hang of it." He grinned. "This is fun."
Fun? When was the last time I'd thought of my work as fun instead of necessary? It was the thing that consumed my entire existence.
"Don't get too excited. Tomorrow we start the Christmas cookie orders."
"How many?"
"Last count? Three hundred dozen."
Zale's eyes widened. "That's a lot."
"Thirty-six hundred cookies. Yeah." I started wiping down the counter so I wouldn't reach out and remove that smudge off his face. "Still think it's fun?"
"Ask me tomorrow." But he was still grinning and his dazzling smile was undimmed despite hours of hard work before dawn.
My wolf was completely enamored and I was in serious trouble. I’d sworn I wouldn't let myself want someone who'd eventually leave when they realized the bakery would always come first.
"Go home," I said. "Get some sleep and be back at the same time tomorrow."
"Thanks, Hawthorn." He grabbed his coat. At the door, he paused. “You gave me a chance. I know I'm not what you expected."
He had no idea how true that was.
I nodded, and Zale left with a wave as the bell chimed cheerfully behind him.
Suddenly, the bakery was too empty and quiet, as though whatever was keeping the place alive had just walked out the door.
I looked down at the coffee he'd brought me. It was exactly how I took it. Black, strong and too hot. I hadn't told him that but he’d known somehow.
One week, I told my wolf firmly. That's all this is. Seven days and he’ll be gone.
My wolf didn't believe me for a second and neither did I.