Chapter 4
SETH
It wasn’t until Friday that Seth was able to ask someone about his odd visitor.
Business had picked up over the week, the townspeople either warming up to Seth or craving carbs enough to override their hesitancy. But there’d been no one Seth felt comfortable with interrogating about one of their own.
And then late Friday morning, Luke and Colby appeared again, little Colby chanting a familiar refrain.
Seth grinned at them. “Guess what I haaaave,” he sang, making showcase display hands at the small selection of glazed and chocolate donuts in the corner of his case.
Colby shrieked with delight, earning an eye roll from the teenage goth girl who’d ordered a black coffee and a plain brioche bun at opening, had parked at one of Seth’s tables, and had been typing furiously at her laptop for the past few hours.
Seth served Luke and his son, and Luke gestured to a table. “Mind if we sit and hang for a while? He’s really into chairs right now.”
Sure enough, Colby was already clambering up one of the chairs, stubby legs flailing for a minute before he got his grip. He barely reached the top of the table when seated, but he was undeterred, holding out his hands for more bites of donut, minus the icing.
“Not at all,” Seth said. Then, because he wasn’t one to waste a golden opportunity, “Hey, do you know a kid in town? Doesn’t talk much, maybe nineteen or twenty? Dark hair and brown eyes. Really, um…good-looking?”
Seth felt like a creep as soon as he’d finished speaking—had he really had to mention the good-looking part?—but Luke was already nodding. “Riley? Yeah, he’s a local, more or less. Lives deeper in the woods with his moms. Think he was homeschooled; we never saw much of them until this past year.”
Seth nodded back at him in a way that was maybe bobble-headed, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Cool, cool. And is he in the habit of, perhaps, accosting people?”
“What?” Luke looked genuinely shocked by the question, which was mildly reassuring. “No. If anything, the kid’s overly cautious. Shy. Keeps his distance. You’re lucky to get two words out of him most of the time.”
The teenage goth suddenly spoke up. “I think they’re serial killers.”
Luke turned in his seat to stare at her while Colby muttered under his breath, “See-wull kehs.” Luke gave him another bite of donut without looking.
“Who is?” Luke finally asked, when the goth girl didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
“The whole family.”
“Violet,” Luke chastised with a frown. “That’s unkind.”
Of course they already knew each other. The familiarity made Seth smile. The joy of a small town.
Violet swept black bangs out of her eyes, finally glancing up to give Luke a look of deep disdain. “I mean it as a compliment.”
“I’m not sure anyone would consider it a compliment,” Seth called cheerfully from behind the counter.
The look of disdain was immediately turned his way. “Washington has one of the highest serial killer rates per capita, you know. Statistics are in my favor.”
“Why do you think they keep to themselves so much?” Seth asked. He directed the question to Luke because Violet definitely already had her theories.
Luke rubbed a hand over his scruff, considering. “Rumor is they adopted him from a rough situation. Needed time to acclimate.”
“Oh.” So this Riley was, like, some traumatized kid looking for a little kindness. Damn, Seth really should have let him in the other day. What was a little intense staring to start the morning, anyway?
“They say you’re a spy,” Violet said, completely monotone, her focus back on her laptop.
Since Luke didn’t respond except with an aggrieved sigh, and little Colby seemed a bit young for espionage, she could only be talking to one person.
“Little old me?” Seth straightened in surprise, more or less delighted by the accusation. He’d been called a few things—a flirt, a die-hard optimist, a person with an unhealthy amount of energy in the early hours—but never something as exciting as a spy. “For whomst?”
“That creepy research institute.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Luke winced, like Seth might be offended by what he was about to say.
“There’s some scientific research station opened up this week,” he explained.
“I think they study marine life? Or maybe forest growth? People were hoping they’d be bringing jobs with them, but they seem to have brought their own people. Nobody likes that much.”
“And you think they have an undercover baker on their roster?” Seth asked Violet, fighting to bite back his grin.
Violet looked up again, narrowing her black-lined eyes at him. “Timing’s suspicious.”
Seth leaned over his counter, placing his chin on his fist, entertained as all get-out. He might have a new favorite customer, sincerest apologies to the adorable Colby. “Are you here to keep an eye on me, then?”
Violet waved a hand, then returned to furious typing. “I’ve got better things to do.”
“I’ve noticed.” Seth gestured to her laptop. “What are you working on over there?”
The teenager gave him her haughtiest look yet. “I’m writing erotic fanfiction about Hannibal Lecter.”
Seth could only nod. That sounded exactly right.
Seth wasn’t surprised to find Riley hovering outside his bakery door at quarter to six the next day.
He felt almost like he’d summoned his quiet stalker by asking questions. And maybe summoned him for a second chance to be a little kinder. Seth felt oddly responsible for him. Like they were connected somehow.
Which he wasn’t. And they weren’t.
But Seth knew what it felt like to be on the outside, still trying to find his people. He’d been lucky enough to figure it out early—who he was and what he wanted to surround himself with—but that wasn’t always the case for young men who didn’t fit into any easy mold.
Maybe this Riley was looking for his people too. Or maybe he just wanted some pastries. Whatever his reason for showing up, Seth wasn’t going to turn a hungry kid away.
He was stocking the display case when he saw the shadow at the front window. Seth returned the tray to the rack stand before heading over to unlock the front door, holding it open just wide enough to poke his head out.
Riley was wearing the same collared jacket and another pair of worn jeans, his hair slightly messy in that careless, heartthrob way that could have been genuine or could have required a fistful of mousse and a diffuser.
“It’s freezing out here,” Seth said by way of greeting. “Why don’t you come inside?”
Riley’s dark eyes were just as intense as Seth remembered, boring into him without mercy. He didn’t say anything to Seth’s offer, but when Seth turned around, Riley was right behind him, following him inside.
Seth couldn’t hear Riley’s steps—the kid was light on his feet, that was for sure—but he could feel the heat against his back and smell the scent of forest invading his bakery.
“Take a seat,” Seth said without looking, heading back behind the counter, where his coffeepot was already up and running. “I’m having coffee. You want some?”
When he turned to catch the answer, Riley was already sitting obediently at one of Seth’s two-seater tables. He shook his head.
“Hot cocoa?” Seth offered.
Another head shake.
“Tea?”
A pause, and then Riley nodded.
Seth grabbed an English breakfast tea bag and, after a moment of deliberation, selected one of his ceramic mugs rather than a to-go cup. He filled the mug with hot water, then grabbed a plate, tossing a broken maple-pecan scone on it.
He set both in front of his guest. “This broke coming off the pan,” he said, pushing the plate a little closer. “It’s yours if you want it.”
“Thank you.”
Riley’s voice was just as pleasant as Seth remembered, still low and soft, even when he wasn’t murmuring vague threats about eating innocent bakers.
“You’re Riley.”
Riley didn’t seem surprised that Seth knew his name. He only nodded.
That odd dichotomy was still there—the face of a lost, pretty kid, the eyes of someone who’d seen more than their fair share. Seth fought not to stare, although he only would have been matching his guest vibe for vibe if he did.
“I’m Seth.”
“Seth,” Riley repeated. And then he smiled, full and wide.
And yeah, the dark and brooding look really worked for this kid, but that smile? Devastating. He was sort of devastating. Seth needed to watch himself. He couldn’t go getting smitten with a guy barely out of his teens. It screamed creepy old man vibes, and he wasn’t having it.
He cleared his throat, turning away again. “There’s milk and sugar on the counter. Stay as long as you like.”
He went back to stocking the case. They didn’t speak for a few minutes, although Seth’s music filled the silence and kept everything from feeling too awkward. Seth was usually better at mindless small talk than this, but his guest’s presence had him strangely off-kilter.
“Pretty.”
Seth looked up from his task to find Riley watching him again. He felt his cheeks go hot against his will. “Um. What is?”
Riley pointed upward, and it took Seth a second to realize he was pointing to one of the speakers in the corner of the ceiling.
Seth relaxed, pressing a hand to his cheek and willing the warmth to go down.
“Oh, the music? Thanks. I can share the playlist with you.” He grabbed his cash drawer and started setting up the register.
“I like a mellow mix in the morning, you know? Unless I’m extra tired, and then we’re going pop divas all the way.
Get the blood flowing.” He did a little shimmy in demonstration, stopping when he only received a blank stare. “What are you into?”
It took a moment for Riley to answer. “Everything. Nothing. I’m in the forest a lot. Have to be quiet. No music.”
The words were a little disjointed, but they were more than Seth had been expecting. He paused in the act of loading the till to look fully at his guest again, who was already watching Seth closely.
Always watching, this one.
“You like to…run in the forest?” Seth asked, trying to parse through Riley’s meaning.
After a moment of hesitation, Riley nodded. “Running.”
Seth grinned. “I run too. Sporadically,” he amended.
“I’m faster,” Riley said immediately.
That surprised a laugh out of Seth. “I’ve no doubt. I prefer more of a slow trudge. It’s the arm swinging that gives the illusion of a run.” He gave a little demo, laughing again at how dorky he knew he must look.
Riley didn’t laugh with him. He was staring so intently that Seth suddenly wondered if he had flour on his face. He touched a hand to his forehead to check. Sometimes he smeared it there when he wasn’t paying attention.
“I like your headband,” Riley said after another moment, a roughened edge to his voice.
Seth tried to remember what he was wearing today. A tangerine print, he was pretty sure. “Thank you.”
“And your hands.”
“My hands?” Seth looked down. “Oh, my nails, you mean! You can borrow some polish, if you like. Next time you come in.”
Seth had a bad habit of giving makeup away to customers after compliments. But he’d made genuine friends that way—his gorgeous pal Sascha came to mind, the little minx—so maybe it was actually a good habit.
And it seemed like maybe Seth had a friend in the making here, albeit an unconventional one.
It was nice to have company as he opened.
Even with his intensity, Riley had Seth weirdly at ease.
He didn’t seem to expect to be entertained or catered to.
He didn’t seem to expect anything at all, except to be in Seth’s presence.
Seth’s alarm went off, and he hurried to turn his sign over. He had customers almost immediately, which was a relief.
First there was Violet, an alarmingly early riser for her age. She gave him and Riley both long, appraising looks, then ordered a black coffee and a glazed donut, immediately claiming one of the other tables with her laptop.
Next was an older man who ordered a bacon roll and a cherry turnover to eat in. Seth served him up, turning around to hide his gleeful smile that all three of his tables were seated after only ten minutes. He didn’t do a victory dance, exactly, but it was a close freaking call.
If he rearranged that plant in the corner, he could probably fit another two-seater in here. Maybe it would be worth doing. His business was mostly intended for takeaway, but it was cozy having a little crew here with him.
Seth turned back around to find Riley at the counter, leaning in over the till.
Jesus.
Seth kept himself from yelping in surprise, but only barely.
He somehow hadn’t noticed the inches Riley had on him before, but the kid was really quite tall.
He should have been gangly, even, but the breadth of his shoulders matched his height.
They were really quite…impressive, those shoulders.
Seth hadn’t been filled out like that at nineteen; that was for sure.
Stop. Perving.
“Thank you, Seth,” Riley said quietly, his dark eyes as intent as ever. He’d set his empty plate and cup down neatly on the counter. Seth hadn’t even seen him eat the scone.
Riley’s gaze darted to Seth’s lips, then back to his eyes, quick as a blink. He seemed to be searching for something in Seth’s face, maybe, but hell if Seth knew what it was.
And then Riley turned away, heading out into the gloom without another word.
Seth hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until the bell chimed over the door. His cheeks were hot again, flushed like he’d been standing too close to his ovens.
In the corner, Violet cleared her throat, giving Seth a pointed look, as if to say, See?
Yeah, Seth was going to have to be very, very careful there.