8. Roderick
RODERICK
As the day wears on, I charm Audrey by keeping the customers happy. And when Zara comes in at noon, I charm her with my baking success. “We had to save you a bagel and a pretzel to try because we sold the rest,” I tell her.
“Someone bought a dozen pretzels for her office after tasting them,” Audrey chirps. “She said it wouldn’t be right to keep them to herself.”
But the one person I cannot charm is Kieran Shipley. He avoids eye contact with me, even when I’m being super friendly.
I don’t take it personally, of course. He must be worried about our high school encounters. Maybe he thinks I’ll tell his family that...
Okay, I don’t have the first clue what he’s worried I’ll say. He obviously remembers me, and not in a good way. But I can’t tell if his chilly attitude is because he’s embarrassed, or because he’s a jerk. Either way, I don’t have any fucks to give about shit that happened in high school.
Maybe if I could get him alone for a minute, we could talk it out, though. Clear the whole thing up.
But Kieran leaves for the day before I get my chance. And then Audrey asks me to come back tomorrow and open the coffee shop with Zara. “We both want a chance to get to know you,” Audrey says.
“Excellent!” I say with a bright smile. “Sounds great.”
I sleep like shit that night in my car. You’d think being halfway to getting a job would’ve relaxed me, but instead, I lie there in the cold car and think of all the ways I could still screw it up.
If they run a credit check on me, will the bank say that my credit cards have just been canceled? Is that how credit checks work?
My bigger fear is that they’ll ask Kieran whether or not they should hire me, and he’ll talk them out of it. Kieran is one of those people who listens more than he talks. He can probably smell my desperation.
And he’s family. Audrey is married to Kieran’s cousin. “They’re a big, close-knit family,” she’d said as we chatted.
I’m doomed. And doomed people sleep poorly.
The result is that I’m bleary the next morning when I report for duty with Zara. The bagels and pretzels turn out great, but I’m sluggish behind the counter. I need more calories, too, but I don’t want to stop to take a break.
When Kieran shows up for work after the breakfast rush, Zara declares that she’s taking a break to check in on her daughter. “Can you bake another batch of muffins and some cookies for this afternoon?”
“Of course!” I say brightly, relieved to give up counter duty.
I can almost feel Kieran rolling his eyes. He’s not buying what I have to sell. He steps up to the counter, and I go into the kitchen, retreating to our separate corners like fighters between rounds. I put the muffins into the oven and wait.
I’m having a happy dream. The best kind of dream.
I’m in a gleaming restaurant kitchen, cooking a meal for the actor Henry Cavill. And he’s flirting with me. But I can’t tell if he’s flirting for real or just being friendly. As I set a plate down in front of him, I’m trying to decide whether or not to slip him my phone number.
“You’re really cute,” he says. “But it’s too bad we knew each other in high school. That ruins everything.”
“Why?” I ask Dream Cavill. But he can’t answer me, because the oven timer starts ringing loudly. I look around but can’t find it.
A few seconds into its persistent beeping, I startle awake and realize that pesty sound is not part of the dream, but real. With a gasp, I yank my head from my hands and rise from my stool so quickly that I sway on my feet.
I lurch over to the oven and check the pumpkin muffins. They’ll need another two minutes, so I close the oven door and shake my bleary head. Finally, I stop the timer’s infernal noise. I spot Kieran in the doorway, frowning at me. He’s the only witness to this shit show.
I haven’t even been offered the job yet, but I’ve already fallen asleep on it. This is not good.
“Sorry,” I try to say, but it comes out as a croak.
I clear my throat and try again. “I was just…” The sentence peters out, because there’s no excuse that I can offer.
Sleeping in my car is killing me. I look like death this morning and am now capable of slipping into REM sleep while the muffins bake.
It’s unprofessional, and I really hope Kieran doesn’t mention it to Zara and Audrey.
He probably will, though.
Kieran disappears without a word, which is just as well, I guess. Zara will be back any moment. I take out the muffins and set them on a rack to cool. Then I stir up a batch of oatmeal cookies with raisins.
Ten minutes later, as I’m dropping cookie dough onto a tray, Kieran enters the kitchen. He places a mug of steaming coffee on the worktable beside me and disappears before I can say anything.
It’s a pretty helpful gesture considering that Kieran hates me. Every friendly thing I say to him goes wrong somehow, and when we worked the counter together yesterday, it had seemed like I couldn’t stop bumping into him. Maybe he’s just clumsy, but it was probably my fault.
And although he likely brought me the coffee so I wouldn’t burn the place down by accident, I should still thank him.
I don’t get my chance until that afternoon. Zara retreats into the little office to order some supplies. The shop is in a rare lull, the only customers outside on the patio, wearing their coats in the weak October sunshine.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I ask Kieran.
“Why.” His forehead wrinkles. The dude does not want to talk.
But I plow ahead. “Just thought I’d introduce myself properly, because I hope we’re going to be working together.”
“Nice to meet you,” he grits out.
“Yeah. I can tell you’re thrilled.” I chuckle. “Look, we obviously went to the same high school?—”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t even remember.” He shuts me down with a few quick words. Then he swallows hard, betraying his discomfort.
And that’s when I get angry. Can we really not get past my teenage stupidity?
“Yeah, okay,” I say slowly. I cross my arms in front of my chest to show him that his brusque tone doesn’t scare me.
Although I have to lift my chin to look him in the eye.
He’s probably got four inches on me, as well as bulging biceps that I can’t help but admire.
It’s too bad Kieran Shipley wants nothing to do with me, because the man is as hot as he is grumpy.
And now I’m staring.
“I guess I must be thinking of somebody else,” I say so slowly that it sounds like a tease. “Pity, though. Because once upon a time I really enjoyed putting on a show for that other guy. Whoever he was. And I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it, too.”
And then—because self-preservation was never my strong suit—I give him a sleazy wink, turn on my heel, and disappear into the kitchen. But not before I glimpse a flash of red on his face.
I just made him angry. Awesome. I must not want to buy decent food or sleep in a real bed after all.
Nice going, Roddy. You’re fucking everything up again .
But if Kieran Shipley can’t deal with me, maybe this job was never meant to be.