Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
I should have specified a day for him to come by.
Clementine glanced at the time on her phone, then out the large picture windows of the bakery with a heavy sigh. It had been four days since she’d visited the tattoo shop. Four days since she’d apologized and asked him to “Come by the shop sometime next week and we’ll make a plan” . Granted, it was a vague invitation and maybe she should have exchanged numbers with the man. Given his visits to the bakery, she thought they’d have the opportunity to talk about it more. Unfortunately, she’d been pretty busy with weddings and hadn’t been at the shop when he usually came by.
She had to keep reminding herself that this was nothing like what happened with Xander. Both men were attractive and fired up the part of her brain that crushed on people. But there were differences. For one, Oakley sought her out the first few times. He didn’t flirt with innuendo and touch her unnecessarily. And he shared things about his past. Xander never even told her his surname or where he worked, let alone his past. He liked squeezing her shoulder or tucking her hair back, even though those touches made her want to shake him off. But when she was crushing on someone, all the things she usually hated didn’t seem to matter. She wanted Xander to like her too, so she ignored everything else.
This is not a crush. They are not the same. We are just friends . If she repeated that to herself enough times maybe she’d start to believe it.
Dropping onto the bench at the large tasting table, she wondered if going by the tattoo shop would be a good idea. Her staff had gone home about an hour ago, so maybe A Fine Needle would also be done for the day. Chewing on her bottom lip as she weighed her options, Clementine scanned her bakery. The lights were off, except for the one above her, and the shutters were down. The front door was still unlocked, the last thing on her close-up list of things to do before she left.
It was pretty small for a place that had the kind of footfall they did. Large windows covered one side of the shop, looking onto Main Street. Daisy had helped her decorate them with planters filled with pretty flowers that provided a sense of privacy and added a little something to the display. Two small round tables were set against the windows. Opposite that was the display case, order and cash counter. That section was large with three portions with two shelves each and was always filled with every pastry they made. There was a bit dedicated to the flaky baked goods too. Behind the counter was a coffee station that Luna handled like a rockstar.
Then there was the wedding tasting section. Originally, the space where the large table now resided held four other two-seaters, inviting more people to sit and relax. When wedding cakes became her highest seller, Clementine needed room for the couples to sit and enjoy the cake she presented them.
Ten years ago, when she’d opened the bakery, it was exactly how she envisioned it. But now her vision was changing and in order to bring that to life, she needed more room. Which required her to have time to meet with a realtor and visit locations, go through her finances and make sure that she could afford something bigger.
She startled when her phone buzzed on the table and she looked at the text preview—her brother was texting on the family group—before her eyes moved to the time. She was still considering going by the tattoo shop, because something could have happened or he was out of town or… the options are endless, don’t go down that road . Their last interaction had been good, comfortable even, but had she been reading too much into it? For all her people skills, there was still so much that Clementine got wrong. She wasn’t always good with body language and smiles could just be smiles , nothing else. But there was a part of her that believed he wasn’t being nice to her as sport. Xander had done that, unknowingly or not, flirting and teasing to get free desserts from her.
When she’d made Oakley the offer, she made sure to ask for something in return.
Fifteen minutes and then I’ll go , she told herself and picked up her phone. The Kinney family chat—aptly titled Next of Kin(ney)—was suddenly very active. Some days there were barely any messages, other days it was overflowing with silly forwards from her parents.
Callum
Sandra and I have some news.
Mama
Is it a baby?! It’s a baby, isn’t it?
Dad
Renu.
Sandra
What my husband failed to tell you is that we’d like to do a family call this weekend to give you all the news.
Callum
Right, I hit enter too fast.
Mama
But is it a baby?
Camden
Jeez, Ma. Family call.
Dad
How does Sunday work for everyone?
Sandra
Sunday is great, August. Thank you.
Mama
That’s days away!
Callum
Cam? Tiny? Would love to have you two part of the call.
Camden
Ugh, fine.
Clementine
Let me know what time, I’ll be there.
Mama
You better answer when I call, Callum James Kinney.
Camden
You have zero chill, Mama.
Mama
Mamas don’t need chill.
She snorted at the last text, because she could hear her mother say it. She’d been saying that for years, because Renu Kinney genuinely did not know how to chill. She was the best mother in the world, but she was high-strung. The minute her older brother, Callum, got married she’d been not so subtly hinting at babies. Now with this update, she was going to be spiraling.
Getting to her feet, she decided to cut her losses and head out, so that she wasn’t too late. She carried the large boxes that were set on the kitchen counters two at a time to her truck parked in the back. Once she’d stacked them carefully so they wouldn’t tip over, Clementine returned to the shop just as the bell above the main door chimed. Frowning, she cursed herself for not locking up first, and hurried to the front. A loud gasping sound reached her and she stopped at the sight of Oakley bent at the waist, breathing heavily.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he panted, one hand on his chest. He straightened up and she hated how the first thing her brain registered was: he’s so handsome. His jeans, hoodie and ball cap were all the same shade of dark blue, his wireframe glasses were slightly fogged up and even through the lenses, she could see the dark circles under his eyes. He pulled off his cap and dragged his tattooed hand through the messy blond strands.
So handsome .
“I wanted to be here on Monday, but it’s been a ridiculous week.” He was still breathing heavily and she held her hands up in a calm down gesture so he would relax. “I’m really sorry, Clementine.”
Ugh, why does he have to say my name that way? She nodded and forced herself to stay steady. “Been pretty ridiculous for me too. Did you run here?”
“No.” He shook his head and then winced. “Yes, I did.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she told him, suddenly feeling guilty for all the thoughts she had earlier. He waved off her concern and she glanced at the time. They could still make it. “Do you have anywhere else to be tonight?”
“I’m all yours.”
Do not read into that, self. Do. Not. “I’ve got an errand to run, wanna come with me?”
His face split into a wide smile and her knees wobbled, because that’s the kind of effect he had on her. This is how her feelings deepened and made her imagine things that weren’t there. She could not go down this road again. Instead, she walked past him to lock the front door and pull down the blinds. Then turned off the lights as she led the way to the back. She gestured to her truck and he got in, tossing his bag in the back, as she strapped herself in as well. The scent of ocean breeze drifted over and she gripped the wheel tight as she backed out onto the street. She hoped that she would survive the drive with him being this close and smelling that good.
Just as expected, he’d asked questions about where they were going, but she kept it vague. So when she pulled up in front of Wildes Haven, he peered at the sign in confusion. Smiling to herself, she hopped out of the truck and opened the back where the food was stored. She heard the passenger door close as well and separated the six boxes into piles of two as Oakley came around the side.
“Where are we?”
Nodding at the sign, she said, “A shelter for unhoused and displaced folks.”
When she was at school in Newark, Clementine would drive down to Wildes every weekend and volunteer at the shelter. Unfortunately the years she was at pastry school and getting her business up and running, she didn’t have enough time to volunteer. But she stayed in touch with Eloise Wilder, the woman who funded and ran the shelter.
Once Pretty Baked was open, she made a deal with Eloise. As many times a week as she could, she’d swing by with leftover items. She’d been doing this every Friday for the past four years and knew how much of a difference a sugar hit made to someone’s day—proof of that was beside her, effortlessly picking up two boxes.
The doors where she’d parked swung open to reveal two men. They eyed her and Oakley, before coming over to help.
“I know how popular your bakery is. There’s no way you’ve had this much excess at the end of the day,” Jim, the older of the two men, said.
“Had a little time on my hands today,” she replied, aware that nobody would believe her.
Jim was right, half of the things she’d brought were freshly made. Most of the time, she brought two to three boxes. It was rare for the displays to have this much leftover. But on slow days, when she needed to burn off some energy, she would bake. Given how confused she was about this whole Oakley thing, she’d baked up a storm and brought all of it to the shelter.
“You new at the bakery, kid?” Jim asked Oakley who shook his head, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.
“He’s a friend, just helping out.”
Jim led the way inside with Oakley following obediently. She locked her truck and joined them, pulling the door shut behind her.
“This is a lot more than we expected, Clementine,” Eloise said as she came around the corner, waving at the boxes on the tables.
“I had some extras of the extras, so figured I’d drop them off.”
Eloise gave her a look like she didn’t believe a word, but said, “Would you like to stay for first service?”
“Sure,” she told the older woman with a small smile and stepped aside as other volunteers started unloading her boxes. She turned to grab aprons and bumped into Oakley instead. His hands landed on her hips to steady her and all her muscles tightened to stop from letting him know how being touched by him made her feel.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and took a step back, her body instantly missing his touch. “So, what are we doing here?”
She exhaled shakily and looked everywhere but at him. “I bring leftovers from the bakery to serve during lunch and dinner. First service is what Eloise calls the first sitting. They have about four sittings per meal, more if the lines are longer.”
His eyes widened and a smile stretched across his beautiful mouth. “Can I help?”
“Of course, young man,” Eloise said as she returned, matching his wide smile. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Eloise Wilder and according to my ancestors, my family founded this wonderful town we live in.”
“It’s great to meet you, Ms. Wilder. I’m Oakley, friend of Clementine.”
“Then you are most welcome to help us out tonight. Jim, get these two aprons and let’s get started.”
Eloise flashed Clementine a smile and walked off. Jim tossed them aprons and grabbed a tray of dessert and carried it outside. She sighed, looping the apron over her neck and tying it around her waist. When she glanced at Oakley, he had stripped off his maroon coat and was in the process of peeling off his hoodie. And like in every rom-com known to womankind, his T-shirt rode up with the hoodie and exposed a wide section of his stomach. His trousers were sitting low on his hips, so she got a good look at the V that pointed to what some would call the promised land. But it was the hint of defined abs that made her body hum. She caught herself, though, before Oakley finished taking off his hoodie, by focusing on grabbing the last tray of baked goods.
“All right, put me in, chef,” he said, coming up beside her.
He didn’t mean the innuendo, don’t get distracted.
Instead, she handed him the tray and pointed in the direction everyone else had gone. Once she was alone, Clementine allowed herself a few minutes to catch her breath. She’d gone through all of the emotions that evening—frustration, irritation, disappointment, desperation and attraction—and now that he was there, she wasn’t sure if she was going to survive.
They stayed for first, second and third service. By which time, the infuriatingly handsome man had made friends with every single person that walked past him. Jim and Toby had adopted him as one of their own, Eloise kept shooting her looks and their regulars wanted to know if he was single because they knew the perfect girl for him. Oakley blushed through most of the attention, and it was still so endearing.
When the next set of volunteers came through, Eloise relieved them from duty and then invited Oakley to visit again.
As everyone crowded around him to shake hands, she tossed their aprons into the bin in the back and pulled on her coat. It was no surprise to her that people had taken to Oakley so easily—he had come across that way from the moment they met. She was the only one holding him at a distance because she was afraid of what would happen if he got too close. She untied her hair and dragged her fingers through the thick strands as he said bye to everyone and started putting everything back on. Despite telling herself not to stare, it was impossible to look away. She’d been distracted by the plain white T-shirt he’d worn under the apron, the way it hugged his torso and flaunted his strong arms. Not to mention the cap he’d turned backwards and glasses he’d worn all through service.
He fit her type to a T—lean, but well-built, tall and charming, then add in glasses and tattoos and she was a goner.
“That was definitely not how I expected to be spending my evening,” he said, adjusting his glasses. He was smiling so wide it was a miracle his face hadn’t split in two yet. “What’s next?”
She tilted her head. “How are you always in such a good mood?”
“Life’s too short to be in any other mood than happy.”
She rolled her eyes and heard him chuckle as they walked out to her truck. He said bye to a few more people before hopping in.
“How long have you been doing this?”
His intoxicating scent wrapped around her again, but she concentrated on the road. “Started volunteering when I was in college. When I opened Pretty Baked, I figured out a way to give more than just my time.”
He whistled. “You’re quite something, Clementine.”
“ Clem ,” she corrected. She liked the way her name sounded in his deep and soothing voice, but it was also very unsettling how much she liked it.
“Happy to call you Clem, but why don’t you like your full name?”
“It prompts people to break out into song every now and then,” she responded quickly and by the confused look on his face, she snorted. “You’ve heard of “Oh My Darling, Clementine” by Bing Crosby, right?”
“You have a song, seriously?”
“My father insists that I wasn’t named after the song, but I don’t quite believe that.”
He chuckled and when she glanced over, found him scrolling through his phone. All of a sudden, her truck was filled with the sounds of Bing Crosby singing the wretched song. She’d loved it when she was a kid, because it was so soft and sweet, plus, her dad would dance with her every time he put it on. As an adult, she wanted the song to never exist in the world again.
“There’s a Neil Young version too,” he said, switching to the rock version that she’d heard as well. She regretted telling him about it, because she knew that he wouldn’t have found it on his own.
“Okay, we don’t have to go through every version of the song.”
“There are more ?”
“Oakley,” she whined, surprising herself with the way she said his name, but she wasn’t going take it back. However, it worked, because the music stopped and she could finally hear herself think. “Thank you.”
“Don’t want to upset my place as your friend this early on.”
A snort escaped her as she pulled into the first empty spot she could find. She hadn’t intended for her day to get this long and could feel the exhaustion set in, but she would see this evening with Oakley through. It was the least she could do.
“Um…did you bring me here to end my life and dispose of my body?” he asked as they hopped out of the truck.
“It’s my second favorite place in Wildes. This is where I come to hide out.”
As he came up beside her, she noticed that he’d taken his cap off. His blond hair was a mess, but it still looked so good. To someone new, the area did look a little dangerous. Everything was closed and lights were off, but she knew where to go. With a wave of her hand, she walked to the doorway built into the wall in such a way that you could only see it at a certain angle. She heard him gasp in response as he followed, his warm body way closer than she was prepared for. Pushing a large door open, she stepped into The Hive and felt the first real smile of the day tease at her lips.
The scent of freshly baked bread floated over and she almost moaned, but held herself back. The large mismatched chairs, the bookshelves crowded with paperbacks and the vintage lights hanging everywhere were exactly what her soul needed. The only person she’d brought there was Mack and he’d felt like the space was closing in on him, so he never came back. She didn’t usually have company when she visited The Hive, so bringing Oakley there was a very big deal.
“My darling Clementine!” a voice called out and she grunted unhappily and shrugged out of her coat. Oakley chuckled behind her as Grover repeated the greeting and came around the corner. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten tired of my little hovel.”
“My own hovel is taking up a lot of my time.”
Grover hummed and then looked her companion up and down, an excited gleam in his eyes. “And who is this?”
“Oakley West,” he said, tattooed arm appearing around her. She didn’t even bother to hide the way she stared at the veins running along his forearm as he shook hands with Grover. “Clementine’s being my food guide.”
“Grover Capaldi, enchanté.” He did a whole dramatic bow that made her roll her eyes. “She brought you to my literal hole in the wall? I better whip out my best crockery, then.”
With a flourish, Grover turned around and walked off, leaving them in the entryway. Shaking her head, she moved to one of the oddly shaped tables. The high-backed chairs were her favorites, with soft cushions she could sink into and sturdy backs she had slept against countless times.
“Do you trust me to order for you?” she asked once Oakley was seated as well.
“Uh…yes?”
Narrowing her eyes, she bit back a smile as she looked over the menu briefly. Grover returned with plates and cutlery and after a guffaw at her insistence they didn’t need it, took their order and vanished out of sight again.
“So…” he started and she arched an eyebrow for him to continue. “Are we going to sit silently the whole evening?”
“What do you expect us to do?”
“Talk? Get to know each other.”
She made a face and she instantly regretted it. Sighing, she nodded slowly. “Sorry, I’m obviously not good with people. We can…get to know each other. Sure.”
This is why I don’t make friends, it’s too much.