Chapter 4 Hawthorn
FOUR
HAWTHORN
The order came in on a Wednesday morning, and it was exactly the kind of thing I should have said no to.
"Fifty gingerbread houses?" I stared at Cynthia Bateman, the head of the town's Christmas festival committee. "By Saturday?"
"I know it's last minute." Cynthia had the decency to look apologetic. "But the bakery we ordered from in Ivybrook just closed unexpectedly. You're our only hope, Hawthorn. The kids are counting on it. Each family decorating their own gingerbread house at the festival is a town tradition."
Tradition. The word that made it impossible to refuse in a place this small.
I sighed. "Fine. But it's going to cost extra for the rush."
"Whatever you need." Cynthia beamed. "You're a lifesaver."
After she left, I contemplated the sheer amount of work ahead. Fifty gingerbread houses meant hundreds of individual pieces that included walls, roofs and chimneys. They all had to be baked, cooled, and packaged with royal icing and candy for decorating. And that was on top of the regular orders.
I was going to be living in this bakery for the next three days.
"That sounded intense." Zale emerged from the back, wiping his hands. "Fifty houses?"
"Yeah." I started calculating ingredients in my head. "We'll need to work really late. If you can't do it, tell me now."
"I can." He didn't hesitate. "What do you need me to do?"
I took a deep breath. I'd gotten so used to doing everything alone that having someone step up without complaint felt strange.
"We'll start after the morning rush. I need to draw up templates first and figure out the assembly line."
Zale nodded. "I'll prepare everything we need for tomorrow morning now, so we can focus on the houses later."
He was already thinking ahead. My wolf was so proud of his work ethic. But Zale was an employee, nothing more.
By seven that evening, we were deep into gingerbread production. The scent of ginger and cloves washed over us and despite the work ahead, I experienced a smidgen of the Christmas spirit I’d been missing.
I'd cleared one of the big work tables and we'd fallen into an efficient rhythm. I rolled and cut the dough while Zale transferred pieces to baking sheets and managed the ovens.
But I was constantly aware of him as he moved around me and rolled up his sleeves. And there was no escaping his enticing scent and my wolf was paying far too much attention to him.
"How'd you end up running a bakery?" Zale asked as he slid another tray into the oven. "Did you always want to do this?"
I didn't usually talk about my choice of career. But the late hour and the comfortable quiet between us had loosened my usual restraint.
"My grandmother owned this place. I spent every summer here as a kid, learning from her." I pressed the knife into another sheet of dough. "She taught me everything. When she got sick, I took over. That was ten years ago."
"She'd be proud of you."
The simple statement moved me and I had to blink away the sting of tears.
"Maybe. Or she'd be yelling at me for working too hard and never taking a day off."
"Smart woman."
I glanced up. Zale was watching me with those blue eyes. But there was no judgment in them.
"The thing about running a bakery," I explained, "is that it doesn't stop. Bread doesn't care if you're tired or sick or if it's Christmas morning. People expect fresh pastries at six a.m., which means I'm here before two every day. No exceptions."
"That's why your exes left."
It wasn't a question but I nodded anyway.
"They tried. Roland lasted the longest at four months. But eventually they all discovered I'm married to this place. There's no room for anything else." I shaped another wall piece with more force than necessary. "So I stopped trying. It's easier this way."
"Is it?" Zale's voice was almost a whisper. "Easier?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because the truth was that before he'd walked into my bakery, I'd convinced myself it was fine. I had my work and my purpose. That was enough.
But now there was someone who showed up without complaint and who anticipated my needs. He also made the coffee how I liked it without being told. And his scent had my wolf pacing with want while his smile tried to dismantle my carefully constructed walls.
"The timer." I’d been saved by the bell.
Zale pulled out the latest batch of golden brown gingerbread with crispy edges. He was getting good at this.
We worked with the only sounds being the rolling pin, the oven door, and the scrape of the knife against the dough. It should have been awkward after what I'd revealed, but it wasn't. Zale didn't push or try to fix anything. Instead, he kept working beside me.
Around nine, I straightened up and stretched. My back hurt. "We should take a break. You've been at this since two-thirty this morning."
"So have you."
"I'm used to it."
"Doesn't mean you don't need to stop for a while.” He was already heading to the front. "I saw some apple cider earlier. Want some?"
Before I could answer, he was gone. I looked down at the hundreds of gingerbread pieces cooling on racks around us. We still had a way to go but we’d made a huge dent in it.
Zale came back with two mugs of heated cider that smelled of cinnamon. He handed me one and leaned against the work table next to me. My mind wandered and imagined what lay under his clothes.
"Thank you for helping with this.” I sniffed the cider. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." He took a sip of his drink. "Besides, this is fun, in an exhausting, flour-everywhere kind of way."
I almost smiled. "You have a strange definition of fun."
"Maybe.” His eyes met mine. “Or maybe you've forgotten what it's like to enjoy the work instead of just surviving it."
The words hit too close to home. I’d stopped loving what I did and it had become a back-breaking chore instead of a passion.
I ran my gaze over his cheeks flushed from the heat of the ovens. There was a streak of molasses on his jaw. But he appeared to be completely at ease in my space as if he belonged here.
My wolf was absolutely certain he did and was yammering in my ear about him staying long-term.
"You've got something on your cheek." I reached out without thinking and my thumb brushed off the molasses.
Zale's sharp intake of breath cut through the quiet. His eyes widened and his lips parted. We were so close I could count his long eyelashes and his honey and lemony scent wrapped around me, making me its prisoner.
I should get back to work. This, whatever this was, was a terrible idea. He worked for me and he’d be out of my life in a few weeks. I'd sworn off this kind of complication.
But I couldn't move. My hand was still on his jaw, and he was leaning into the touch. His gaze dropped to my lips and traveled over my chest and lower still. Heat flooded through me.
The phone rang and we jerked apart. The moment was shattered and my wolf howled and threatened to take his fur. He hoped Zale’s beast would do the same and they could hunt together.
I grabbed the phone with unsteady hands. My heart was pounding in my ears. "Hawthorn's."
A customer asked about an order. I went through the motions of confirming details but my mind wasn't on bread. It was on the man standing three feet away and how much I'd wanted to close that final distance and kiss him.
When I hung up, Zale was staring at the gingerbread pieces as though they held the secrets of the universe. He was also breathing a little too fast.
"We should finish up.” I didn’t trust myself to be with him in the same room much longer. "It's getting late."
We worked for another hour, but the easy rhythm from before was gone. Now I avoided any accidental brush of hands and I fought the urge to get close to him.
By eleven, we'd finished all fifty houses and they were packed with piping bags of royal icing and containers of candy for each family.
"You should go home.” I started cleaning up. "Get some sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine. I don’t want to face dirty dishes when we walk in tomorrow.
"Hawthorn." Zale put a hand on me. The touch sent a tingling warmth up my arm. "You need sleep too."
The heat from his hands surged through me and my wolf sat up and paid attention.
"One more hour," I conceded. "Then I'll head upstairs."
"Promise?"
It’d been a long time since someone had worried about me.
"Promise."
Zale grinned, and my traitorous heart cantered before launching into a full blown gallop. "Good. Same time tomorrow."
He grabbed his coat. "Hawthorn? I enjoyed working together tonight."
Then he was gone, the bell chiming behind him.
I stood in my empty bakery, surrounded by hundreds of gingerbread pieces and the lingering scent of honey and lemon. My thumb still tingled where it had touched his jaw.
My wolf was pacing, telling me we shouldn’t be apart.
And my heart was not listening to reason.
My wolf agreed and for once, I didn't have the energy to argue with him.