Chapter Fifteen
Juniper
I'm standing at the sink, the warm water rushing over my hands as I scrub the last of the breakfast dishes. My brother is perched on one of the stools behind me, casually scrolling through his phone. His relaxed laughter fills the room, a sound that always makes the day feel a little bit brighter.
“So, any luck with the job hunt?” Jacob asks, looking up from his phone with a curious glint in his eyes.
I turn off the faucet, wiping my hands on a dish towel as I lean against the counter. “I dropped my CV off at The Opal a couple of days ago. It would be an amazing opportunity if they called me back.”
One of his eyebrows climbs toward his hairline. His interest is piqued. “The Opal? That’s the best place in Cody. They’d be lucky to have you.”
Before I can respond, my phone rings, breaking the morning peace. I glance at the screen, and my heart skips a beat when I see the hotel’s name flash across it. “It’s them,” I whisper, more to myself than to Jacob, as I quickly answer the call, my hands slightly trembling.
“Hello, this is Juniper,” I say, pretending my voice isn’t shaking despite the adrenaline surging through me.
“Hello, Ms. Harding,” a pleasant voice responds. “This is Maria from The Opal. We’re pleased to inform you that we’d like to invite you for an interview and a demonstration of your pastry skills.”
I can hardly contain my excitement, my pulse quickening with each word. “Thank you so much! When should I come in?”
“How does tomorrow at 10 a.m. sound?” Maria’s tone is professional yet warm.
“Perfect,” I reply, barely able to keep the glee out of my voice.
“Great. We’ll see you then.”
I hang up the phone, a wide smile spreading across my face. “I got an interview!” I exclaim, practically bouncing on my toes, the joy bubbling over.
Jacob’s face lights up with a grin as wide as mine. “That’s awesome, Juniper! You’re going to knock their socks off.”
To celebrate, I suggest we dance. Jacob’s been cooped up too much lately, and it’s time to get him moving. I flick on some upbeat music—the kind that makes your feet tap and your heart lift. I start swaying to the rhythm, feeling the music loosen my limbs.
Jacob laughs, a sound that’s both surprised and delig hted, as he gets off the stool to join me. His movements are a bit stiff at first, his body hesitant, but soon enough, he’s loosening up, letting the music guide him. His laughter, full of life and joy, fills the room, and it’s infectious.
“Come on, Jake, you can do better than that!” I tease, spinning around him with exaggerated flair.
He grins, trying to keep up with my moves. “Hey, give me a break! I’m not some professional dancer like you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, please! Professional dancer? You’re just trying to flatter me.”
He chuckles, grabbing my hands and making me twirl with him. “Maybe, but you’ve got some serious moves.”
“You don’t have to be a pro,” I say, pulling him closer. “Just have fun with it.”
“Alright, alright,” he concedes, his grin widening. “But if I step on your toes, you can’t hold it against me.”
“Deal,” I reply, laughing as we continue to dance, the joy of the moment washing over us.”
We dance around the kitchen, the music loud and lively, our bodies moving in sync.
It feels good to let loose, and forget about the stress of the job hunt and the burden of responsibilities for a little while.
Jacob’s laughter is contagious, and soon we’re both breathless, collapsing back onto the stools, panting but grinning like fools.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” I say, still catching my breath, my fa ce flushed from the exertion.
Jacob nods, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit it was fun.”
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I wake up early in the morning. My nerves are buzzing with anticipation as I carefully select my outfit—a professional yet stylish dress that strikes the perfect balance between elegance and practicality. I want to make a good impression, and first impressions are everything.
As I step outside, the cool morning air greets me. I inhale deliberately, mentally pushing down my anxiety, steeling myself for the day ahead. I’m determined to show them what I can do to prove that I’m the right choice for this job.
When I arrive at the hotel, the opulence of the lobby still takes my breath away, just as it did the first time I walked through these doors.
The chandeliers glitter like drops of liquid gold, casting a warm glow over the marble floors.
The air smells faintly of fresh flowers and expensive perfume, a scent that speaks of luxury and refinement.
I walk up to the receptionist, who smiles warmly at me, her demeanor polished and professional.
“Good morning. I’m here for an interview and a demo,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, though my heart is racing with anticipation.
“Ah, yes, Ms. Harding. Please follow me,” she replies, her tone courteous as she leads me through a maze of hallways. The hotel is vast, each corridor leading to another, filled with the quiet hum of activity that speaks of efficiency and elegance .
As we enter the kitchen, my heart plummets. Standing there, with an air of casual authority that commands attention, is Zade.
What is he doing here?
My hands curl into fists at my sides, fury coursing through my veins as I stare him down. “Zade, what the hell?” I demand, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. The words come out sharper than intended, but I can’t help it—he's the last person I expected to see here.
He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement, as if he finds my reaction amusing. “I want to see if you can really bake,” he replies smoothly, the words laced with a teasing edge that makes my blood boil.
I feel my face heat up with anger, and I'm about to turn and leave when the receptionist adds, “Mr. Patterson recently acquired the hotel. He's our new owner.”
I stop in my tracks, shock rooting me to the spot. He bought the hotel?This can't be happening. As I'm about to storm out, Zade follows me, his long strides quickly closing the distance between us.
"Juniper, wait," he calls after me, softer now, sounding close to begging. “I know you need this job. The hotel is Cody's already; it's not like I'm building a resort here anymore. I told you that. I just want to see what the pastry chef can do before hiring.”
I whirl around, my eyes narrowing. “You’re playing games with me, Zade! ”
“Honestly, I’m not.” He says. “You’re talented, Juniper, and you can help make this hotel something special. Please, give it a chance.”
His sincerity takes me by surprise. I study him for a moment, weighing my options. Finally, I sigh. “Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m doing this for you. I’m doing it because I need this job.”
He nods, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Understood. Let’s get started.”
The staff is instructed to leave the kitchen, and soon it's just me and Zade. I can feel his eyes on me, devouring me with every movement.
"Make an apricot pie," he tells me flatly, like he's already my boss.
I nod, trying to steady my hands as I gather the ingredients. His presence is unnerving, and I can feel his gaze burning into me, making me hyper-aware of every step I take.
I start by making the pastry dough, my fingers working quickly to mix the flour, butter, and water.
As I roll out the dough, I can feel Zade's eyes tracing the curves of my body, his intense scrutiny making my skin tingle.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my thoughts keep drifting to him—the way he looks at me, the raw desire in his eyes.
“You’re really watching me like a hawk,” I snap, trying to distract myself from the heat building inside me.
“Just making sure you don't slip up,” he replies smoothly, leaning against the counter, his eyes never leaving me .
“Afraid I might be too good?” I challenge, arching an eyebrow as I line the pie dish with the dough.
“We'll see about that,” he says, his lips curving into a smirk.
I prepare the apricots, slicing them thinly, and arrange them in the crust. I can feel Zade's presence behind me, close enough that I can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. It lights a fire that spreads through my body, and I have to bite my lip to keep from losing focus.
“You know, you could give me some space,” I mutter, mixing the sugar and spices.
"Why? Am I distracting you?" he throws back, clearly messing with me.
“Yes,” I admit. My voice is almost a whisper.
He chuckles softly, the sound sending another shiver through me. “Good.”
I pour the mixture over the apricots and then place the pie in the oven. The next few minutes are excruciatingly long as we wait for it to bake.
“Why are you really here, Zade?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“To see if you can make a decent pie,” he answers, but his eyes say something entirely different.
“And?” I press, wanting to know more.
“And to see if you can handle the pressure,” he adds, his gaze intense.
Finally, the pi e is done. I take it out of the oven, and the golden crust and bubbling filling look perfect. I set it on the counter to cool, my hands trembling slightly.
Zade steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He picks up a fork and cuts a piece of the pie, bringing it to his lips. He takes a bite, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the taste. When he opens them again, they are filled with a fierce intensity.
“It’s incredible!” He exclaims.
Before I can respond, he closes the distance between us, his hand reaching up to gently remove my glasses, setting them aside with care.
Then he leans in and kisses me. It’s not just a brush.
It’s not aggressive either. It lands somewhere in between—certain, warm, a little desperate.
Like he’s been thinking about this too much and finally stopped trying to hold it in.
“Zade, what are you doing?” I breathe, pulling back just enough to speak.
He doesn’t back off, just mutters real low, “You’re stuck in my head, Juniper.”
My chest tightens. “This… this is insane.”
“Maybe,” he says, his hand finding mine. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how. Part of me wants to leave.
Run. Pretend none of this is happening. The other part—the louder part—leans in and kisses him again.
Softer this time. Slower. My hand finds his shoulder without thinking, and I feel the way he exhales against my cheek like he’s been waiting for that second kiss .
Somewhere in my brain, I know I should stop. I should say something to set the boundary. But I don’t. Not yet.
"You're hired," he blurts out, words coming out heavy, no filter.
I blink. “What?”
He looks at me, not joking. “The pie. The way you work. You’re hired.”
“Oh.” My voice is small. I step back slowly, needing the space. “This still has to stay professional.”
“It can,” he replies. “But let’s not lie to ourselves, Juniper. There’s something here.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing between us.”
His smile is soft, not mocking. “Sure.”
I turn to go, not trusting myself to stay in this kitchen one second longer.
Before I reach the door, he steps close again—not too close. He gently sets my glasses back on, his fingertips brushing the side of my face. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t push.
“Go home,” he says quietly. “Rest. You’ve had a long day.”
I leave without looking back. My heart’s still racing.
Outside, the air feels colder than before. I can’t tell if I’m shaking because of the win d—or because of him.